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“Cornered?”
He answers my question with one of his own. “Your money isn’t just in the casino, is it?” He gives me a shrewd look. “You’re too smart for that. You’re diversified. Stocks, bonds, whatever. Then there’s online gambling—you have a stake in it. If the Grand River fails, you’ll be fine. Luster only slightly tarnished.”
My father loved the Grand River with his entire heart. The casino isn’t going to fail. “What does that have to do with Mitchell?”
“Mitchell isn’t diversified,” he replies. “He’s a big fish in a small pond, and with each passing day, the pond gets smaller. Every year, there are fewer tourists. His underground poker rooms aren’t bringing in a lot of money. His strip clubs neither—people get their porn on the Internet now. And then there was the Birks bust.”
Last year, Warren Birks, who was on the City Council, was caught on tape accepting a bribe from one of Mitchell’s people. The Feds hadn’t found enough evidence to charge anyone, but Birks was forced to resign, and Mitchell’s influence has been dramatically curtailed.
“Sure, he looks rich,” Randy continues. “He acts rich. But make no mistake, Mitchell is in trouble. The construction contracts from the city have dried up. Everyone on City Council is spooked. Nobody wants to be arrested by the Feds.”
We find his ball nestled in a clump of weeds. Randy selects an iron from his bag and hits it, and the ball cooperatively rolls onto the edge of the green.
It takes me two more shots to get there myself. I finish the hole at two over par, while Paulson smirks about his birdie.
We walk to the next hole. “Which brings us to the Grand River,” Randy continues. “Denton Mitchell likes to think of himself as a power player. He wants to be important.” He gives me a sideways glance. “He will escalate. You want to protect what’s yours; I get that. But what will you do when people start to get hurt?”
I ponder that question all the way through the next six holes, and the subsequent beer in the club house.
Mitchell looks prosperous, but scratch the surface and the money is Vittoria’s, and God knows the man has a chip on his shoulder about it. Randy Paulson is right. The parking lot is an opening salvo. This will get dirtier. Much dirtier.
I need an edge, and I need one fast. Something that will stop Mitchell in his tracks. Before people get hurt.
People like my employees, who will be collateral damage in this fight.
People like Ed Wagner, who is trapped in a no-win situation.
People like Noah, who is caught in the wreckage as the people he loves the most fight with each other.
People like Gabriella, who is at risk if Mitchell finds out about our connection.
Offer Ed Wagner a job,my conscience nudges me. Don’t let Gabby go to Mitchell’s poker rooms. Convince Carter there’s no need to spy on Noah’s father.
I could fix much of this situation with a handful of phone calls.
But I don’t, because Carter would view my actions as a betrayal. And I’m not sure if my friendship with him would survive.
Yesterday, Gabby told us a story about her boss not noticing that she hadn’t come into work, and I told her I could relate. I inherited my wealth. The local business association can give me awards till the cows come home, and there will always be people who think the only reason I’m successful is because of my family.
Money is a blessing. I’m not stupid; I know its power. But sometimes, money can be a curse. It pins labels on people. It erects barriers.
Carter is my friend. More so, he’s the only one who treats me like a normal person. Always has. When my father was dying, Carter had been there for me. When I was thrown into a position of responsibility, Carter believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.
This is my weakness, and I know it. I know what the right thing to do is, and that’s offering Wagner a lifeline. But if I do so, I would be risking the most important friendship in my life, and I can’t. All I can do is nudge.
