Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Thankfully, the municipal building is only a six-block walk from the hotel, and fifteen minutes later, I’m heading toward the entrance doors.
George nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees me approaching. His eyes are big and round, and his body language is throwing off all sorts of signals telling me to stay away.
But I know what’s at stake here, and despite my history, I have no intention of barreling in here with my guns blazing.
When he sees that I’m not stopping my advance, he excuses himself from the counter and meets me halfway.
“They’re working on finding out why they pulled the permits now, sir.”
I’m almost surprised he didn’t get a text message memo about canning the use of sir, but evidently, everyone has actually stayed busy since I left. I’m impressed.
“We don’t even know why they pulled them yet?”
George shakes his head. “No. From what I’ve been able to figure out, one of the city council members was coming by the job site and didn’t think something was in compliance.”
“An inspector has to make that decision, don’t they?”
“Yes, sir. But out of deference to his standing with the city, I guess they’re honoring his request until an inspector either confirms or denies it.”
“So, it’s the reason he felt like we were in noncompliance we don’t know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right.” I sigh heavily and run a hand roughly through my hair. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
He blinks. Rapidly. Like, an abnormal amount, and Greer is obviously right. I am a tyrant.
Shit.
“Sir?”
“It seems like you’ve got everything under control here.”
“Yes, sir.” George nods and stands up a little straighter. Without the weight of my temper, he’s six inches taller.
“I’m going back to the job site to tighten everything up. Until we know what’s stuck in this guy’s craw, we’re going to have to make sure every aspect of the job is clean and correct.”
“I agree. I’ll have a talk with the guys when I get back for the day.”
I appreciate his work ethic, but after a glance at my watch, I wave him off. “It’s almost three. Just stay here until you get it figured out, and we’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow.”
“You sure, sir?”
I nod. “The city isn’t going to make any decisions or do any inspections after hours.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to the guys first thing tomorrow, then.”
“Perfect. Thanks, George.”
His mouth opens and closes so many times, I just have to walk away and head back to the hotel site. There’s no upside to wasting the amount of time it’s likely to take him to understand my new attitude.
After a quick check-in with Sarah and letting George’s guys know he’ll be tied up at the municipal offices for the rest of the day, I head into the conference room I’ve been using as a temporary office and grab my laptop and suit jacket.
I have a four o’clock meeting with the NOLA hospitality board across town and just over thirty minutes to get there. I’m already pulling my phone out of my pocket, about to call an Uber, but when I spot Greer in reception, I get an idea.
Swift and light on my feet, I step into one of the small restroom corridors and out of her view. And instead of clicking on Uber, I pull up my text inbox, find the anonymous advice-giver, and send a message.
Me: You there, anonymous? I have something to tell you.
No response. So, I send another.
Me: It’s incredibly important.
And another one.
Me: So important that you’re not going to want to miss it…
And that’s when I see it. Greer, reaching into the pocket of her blazer and pulling out a phone. She glances around the room a few times, before turning her back to the workers milling about near reception and looking down at the phone in her hands.
It’s her. It has to be her.
Instantly, I type out another text as I quietly walk toward her.
Me: Trust me, you don’t want to miss this really important something…
The instant I hit send, I’m standing close enough to see the phone in her hands buzz, and the screen lights up. I watch as her fingers tap across the keys and then, the instant they release, my phone vibrates.
Unknown: Any day now…
It is her! Holy shit. That little fucking minx. She’s the mystery texter.
A part of me is shocked, but another part of me knew it all along. Only Greer would use insane, sometimes incomprehensible text messages to try to get advice to me.
And for some unknown reason, I’m smiling like a loon as I type out another message and hit send.
Me: Okay, fine. I’ll tell you right now.
Stepping up to Greer, I place a gentle hand on her shoulder and whisper, “Gotcha.”
The instant the little text bandit—with the evidence still in her hands, mind you—locks eyes with me, I smile, lean even closer, and whisper into her ear, “Thank you.”