Page 23 of Mad Rivals
“Went to Van Buren.”
“Goddammit, Madden. You had one job,” he hisses. “And to lose it to Van Buren?” He shakes his head as his lips tighten. “All the companies that put in bids, and it had to be his.”
Oh, that reminds me… “What exactly is the history between the two of you?”
“That’s not your business,” he spits. “How did we lose this? I signed off on the proposal. There’s just no way they could’ve found a better way.”
“Well, they did.”
“I’ll talk to SCS. I knew I shouldn’t have sent a boy to do a man’s job.” He grabs his phone, still sputtering with disgust.
I ignore the pang in my chest from his words. Now’s not the time to dissect how they hurt.
Not when I have to stop him.
I can’t let him do this.
He may be a cutthroat businessman, but I’m not.
I’m a football player first and foremost.
And I’m attracted to the woman I want to work with on this thing. If he calls and gets his way, he’s going to blow my shot.
It’s a stupid reason to stop him from making the call. But, admittedly, it’s not thewholereason.
The truth is…I don’t want to handle this project alone. I’m still learning, and I have an entire team behind me to help make this a success. But only having to deal with the commercial side—the side I actuallylike—is a bit of a relief.
Not that I’d ever admit that to Thomas Bradley. But it’s the truth. I didn’t want to have to deal with residential. That’s not my specialty. I didn’t buildapartment complexesorhousesout of Lego bricks. I built fire stations and truck stops. I built from the Lego City brand, and before it was rebranded to that, from the Lego Town sets.
“Before you make that call, can I ask you a question?” I ask, scrambling to figure out what the hell I’m going to say but also knowing I need some answers.
He narrows his eyes at me, but he sets his phone down without dialing it. “What?”
“Is Van Buren your enemy?”
He looks uncomfortable at my question, and I’m even more curious to hear the answer. “You could say that.”
I shouldn’t do this. I should stop myself. I should choose the road of less manipulation.
But I don’t.
“Then don’t you want to keep your enemy close?” I ask.
He tilts his head before he leans on his elbows and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth.
I continue before he can come up with a reason why this is a bad idea. Trust me, I already know all of them.
“What about getting someone on the inside to see how their process works? Think of all we could do with that. Get me in there, and I can work my magic. I’ll get access to their client list, their best project managers—hell, their best janitors. Whatever you want from the top down. And it’s not just that. We’ll have to master plan together, and all the infrastructure and zoning will be us. They’ll have their tiny residential corner, and we’ll get credit on the rest.”
He eyes me a little warily, and for a beat I’m worried I’ve overstepped.
And then he says the words every kid craves hearing from his father. “I’m so proudof you.”
They’re the words I wanted. I just don’t want them under these circumstances. Not in the context of lies and manipulation.
I have no real intention of taking VBC down. I’m just trying to use the language I know he speaks.
“Okay,” he says with a short nod. “Let’s do this. Let’s see how it goes, and let’s see what you bring me from VBC.”
