Page 11 of Collin, Episodes 7-9 (The Residency Boys #3)

The mayor extended her hand. Collin shook it, keeping it short and professional. Whether he managed not to blush, he wasn’t sure.

“Good to meet you, Collin.” The mayor shot Mr. Reevesworth a look. “So, Richard, what is interesting about this young man? You only bring interesting people.”

Mr. Reevesworth chuckled. “You know me too well. I found Collin at a symposium at the university a while back. I like his work around aquaponics and local economies.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Curious indeed. That’s not an industry we have around here.”

Her assistant, a tall man with almost white-blond hair approached. “Ma’am, lunch is ready to be served.”

“Thank you, Jonathan. Jonathan, this is Collin. He does research into aquaponics.”

Jonathan regarded Collin with pale blue eyes for a moment and extended his hand. “Ma’am, I’m not sure how much research he can do. He doesn’t have gills.”

Mayor Kapoor laughed with her mouth opened and eyes crinkled up. “Jonathan.”

Jonathan’s lips twitched. He cast his boss an indulgent look and turned back to Collin. “I’m sure you can hold your breath.”

Collin grinned. “Long enough, yes.”

They sat at the table; a city counselor and another assistant joined them.

Jonathan and Collin mostly kept their peace, rising to pour more coffee and seltzer at points.

The way Jonathan knew his boss’s wants, handing her hot sauce before she even thought of it and handling her chair, struck Collin deeply. He filed it away for later.

The conversation was fascinating and mostly focused on a proposed extension and expansion of the intercity trains.

Shirley, a brunette with blue eye makeup at the end of the table, gestured with her fork above her Greek salad.

“The alderman in that ward is absolutely against it. He can’t not be.

We put a train through there with his permission, and the voters will have him out.

They might even have you out, ma’am.” She nodded at Mayor Kapoor.

The mayor thinned her lips. “It’s a risk. One I’m willing to make if we have a chance of actually getting the project finished.”

“They don’t want to be developed.”

“But they want the city to keep offering up CNAs at cheap rates and housekeepers and teachers and utility workers. Where are those people supposed to live?” The mayor glared at her tea. “Those people vote, too, you know.”

Shirley sighed, shoulders slumping. “They don’t fund campaigns.”

“Not necessarily.” The major straightened up. “If enough people move into the area before the next election, that would change things.”

“Nothing moves that fast.” Shirley shook her head.

Collin glanced up and down the table and tentatively raised his hand. Everyone looked toward him. Mr. Reevesworth inclined his head. “What are you thinking, Collin?”

“What about a distraction?”

Shirley’s forehead wrinkled up. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t this neighborhood, this rich one, used to have a train?

Can you publish stories about the train?

People there are really proud of their original neighborhood character.

Capitalize on it. Let them do the talking.

Agree with them, publish old pictures with the train in them, talk about ‘restoring the neighborhood.’ Make the train something unique, special.

You don’t have to connect to the main system as long as it gets close enough for commuters. Connect it later.”

Jonathan leaned forward, eyes on Collin. “Propaganda.”

Collin shrugged, coloring. “I prefer to think of it as helping people think about what you need them to be considering.”

Mayor Kapoor tapped the side of her thumb against her chin and cut her eyes toward Jonathan. “We haven’t tried the historical character part before, not in these neighborhoods. We’ve always been focused on how to get people to change.”

“But if we focused on protecting their favorite old restaurants and stores and even offered to keep corporate chains out…” Shirley’s voice trailed off.

“With this scenario, we basically do everything but focus on the train and adding housing and just work on making the neighborhood like it was back in the heyday. We could work with the local historical societies.”

“It might be better if the initial push didn’t come from the mayor’s office,” Mr. Reevesworth offered. “At least for the historical societies. If they came to you, demanding the improvements, then you could appear responsive.”

The conversation turned to particulars and possibilities. Collin shoved feta cheese and olives into his mouth and tried not to feel faint. Someone brought up crime rates. Mr. Reevesworth leaned forward, extolling the benefits of alleviation over enforcement.

“You’re essentially asking for an entire change of the nature of city enforcement.” The mayor sighed. “I love you, Richard, I do, but the reality is that we can’t do that much.”

Mr. Reevesworth sat back. “If I sink five hundred million into that neighborhood, would you take a grant for the local police department and actually use a mental health response unit? They’re doing it in Colorado. It’s a budget saver. The numbers are solid.”

Mayor Kapoor spread her hands. “Say we take your mental health unit, where am I even going to send the patients once they’re picked up? We don’t have enough psych wards for the patients who are trying to check themselves in.”

Mr. Reevesworth leaned forward. “Then open a new hospital.”

She rolled her eyes. “You think I haven’t workshopped that? I can’t get a city-funded clinic through. And half the prescriptions are going to come back as ‘stable housing’. We already know this. Why do you think we’re talking about housing and transportation? It’s a full circle.”

“I’ll open it.”

“Open what?”

“A hospital.”

“You bring me a proposal for a hospital”—the mayor pinned Mr. Reevesworth with two bright, dark eyes—“and that, that I will be able to get through. That I will have the votes for, hands down. I could pass that yesterday.”

Mr. Reevesworth was deep in thought as they stepped out the door of the mayor’s office. The mayor was going out with them on her way somewhere else.

“Reevesworth, you’ve been served.”

Collin looked up. It was Barker, the cologne guy. He pushed his way directly in front of Mr. Reevesworth and shoved a file at him.

Mr. Reevesworth sighed. “Served? For what?”

“For not being the legitimate heir to Reevesworth Industries and associated companies.”

A slow, unpleasant smile flowed over Mr. Reevesworth’s lips. Everyone in the atrium had turned toward them, the mayor included.

“Who’s suing?”

“A direct descendant.”

“Name?”

“Dana Reevesworth, daughter of your great uncle. Everything he owns goes to his most direct blood descendant.”

“He didn’t have children.”

Barker’s face cracked in a nasty grin. “He does now. Sign.”

Mr. Reevesworth looked over the front-facing paper. “Collin, do you have a pen?”

Collin fished one out of his pocket and handed it over.

Mr. Reevesworth signed. “My lawyers will make the appropriate contacts. Your five minutes is up.”

Barker snorted and snatched back the signature sheet. “See you in court, Reevesworth, if you make it that far. We’ve requested a complete freeze of your assets, you know, seeing as they aren’t yours. As of now, you have nothing. You are nothing.”

Collin’s blood ran cold.