Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“If you have a proposal on how that can happen, I’d be open to looking at it,” Hale offered.
He felt Elsa’s hand land on his thigh and squeeze.
Jadyn was staring at him intently. “Are you serious?”
Hale shrugged. “Creating a program of low interest or no interest loans so people can do needed upgrading, stabilizing or increasing their property value without forced buyouts.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Real estate and urban renewal isn’t something I know much about. But I’m willing to learn.”
“Can we put you in touch with someone?” Gemma asked.
“Absolutely,” Hale answered, to another weird squeeze of his thigh by Elsa.
Gemma smiled. “Fabulous.”
“No offense, man,” Braelin said. “You just get tired of the shit.”
“No offense taken,” Hale assured him. “Seriously. The conversations need to be had and you shouldn’t shy away just because someone might get offended. But the bottom line is, they shouldn’t. It’s truth. I’m telling you something you already know when I say we all have to face it, or nothing will get done.”
Braelin jutted up his chin to Hale.
Hale dipped his back and then scooped up some more mashed potatoes and gravy to shove into his mouth, making a mental note to ask Gemma for her gravy recipe, because it was the best he’d ever had.
They were in his Escalade on the way home, Rocco following in one of the company Tahoes, when Elsa broached it.
“I hesitate to point this out, but you’re a busy man, and you just offered to wade into the Brooklyn regentrification issue, which you might not know is a thing.”
“I know it’s a thing.”
She said no more.
“You don’t think I should get involved?”
“Not for me to say.”
He took in a breath, and then he said, “Sweetheart, we may have had words the other day, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to listen to your opinions about pretty much anything.”
“Okay then. Traditionally Black neighborhoods are being taken over, Hale. This is a very big deal to people who are finding themselves forced out of spaces that have been theirs for decades. You don’t live in Brooklyn, or New York.”
“I’m in New York a lot of the time.”
“What I’m saying is, you can’t save everybody. You can’t become aware of an injustice, throw a bunch of money at it, and time you don’t have. This is meaningful to them. It’s their home they’re losing. Part of their identity. And for you, it’s a cause.”
“I don’t understand how that’s bad.”
“It’s not, exactly.” He heard her blow out a breath. “I’m just concerned you’re already stretched too thin. And without hesitation, you jump into something else.”
“I care,” he said softly.
“I know, honey,” she replied in the same tone and leaned over to kiss his cheek. She sat back and mumbled, “I love that about you.”
He loved she did.
He loved she put that out there.
But even so, the way she said it made it clear she still worried.
He ignored that.
He’d be fine.
And eventually, she’d see he was.
Then she’d let it go.
He fucked her totally vanilla that night, missionary, and after he made her come then did the same himself, he whispered in her ear, “Wanna be my girlfriend?”
Her arm and legs convulsed around him.
He lifted his head and looked down at her, so he got to see the soft, happy expression on her face when she answered.
“Yes.”
The next evening, he was sitting in the corner of his couch where he’d been when she interviewed him, ignoring his laptop for once and reading a book.
She was sitting in her corner, knees bent, feet to the cushion, phone in hand, laptop on the couch by her feet, notebook against her thigh, empire building.
He knew this when she announced, “The Mankowitz interview is set. It’s going to take place in LA in three weeks.” She lifted her gaze from her phone to him. “Any chance you’ll be there then?”
“There is now.”
She shot him a radiant smile and went back to her phone.
He was smiling too as he went back to his book.
About ten minutes later, he was reaching for his glass to take a sip of wine when he heard her quiet gasp.
He looked to her. “What?”
She dropped her phone hand to her lap, an expression he couldn’t read on her face. “Did you warn Nora about Paloma Friedrichsen?”
Paloma Friedrichsen was Tom’s ex. The woman he had between Genny and Mika. An ex-supermodel, she was now famous for being famous along with famous for dating men who were far more famous than she.
She’d been angry Tom ended things with her when he met Mika, and she was the kind of woman to act on that anger. Months ago—it might actually have been a year ago now—Elsa had warned him Paloma was up to some shit. She’d advised he sic Nora on her. And it was good advice. Nora might be old money and utter class, but she kept her claws honed for when they were needed.