Company logos. That contractor smell of cologne and dust.
Behind them, a fourth man stepped forward like the main character.
Late 30s. Maybe early 40s.
Expensive watch.
Perfect hair. Smile sharpened into a weapon.
“Mr. Brooke?” he asked, like it wasn’t a question.
“That’s me,” I said.
He held out his hand.
“I’m Elliot. From E&M Development.”
I knew the name.
Everyone in town did.
He bought land like gum. Grabbed it.
Chewed it. Spit it out.
“I’m not selling,” I said before he could start.
His smile twitched but stayed on.
“I’m not here to argue,” he said. “I’m here to present an opportunity.”
