The Acura hummed in the quiet of the curb. Steam from their coffee cups climbed the dashboard, fogging the lower half of the windshield.
Outside, the afternoon drizzle had thickened into a heavy mist, blurring the taillights of passing cars into long, red smears against the grey of the city.
“Tabitha’s… something,” Amelia said as she shifted in her seat.
“She’s an acquired taste,” Chase replied, his hands resting loosely on the steering wheel. “Like black licorice. You either get it, or you spend your whole life trying to avoid the flavor.”
“I think I like her. I like how she sees through people. It’s like she’s been watching the world her whole life and not buying the act anyone is selling.”
Chase smirked, watching a drop of rain race down the side window. “That’s how she gets you. Once you realize she sees the truth, you start wanting her to approve of yours.”
Amelia turned toward him. “So,” she said, “I almost forgot, what’s the BIG ‘Announcement’ your friend got you hyped up for? You promised the Orangeside version of the truth.”
Chase sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back into the headrest. “Vincenzo wants me to work for him. Officially. Not just as outside counsel, but as the engine of a new division he’s calling a ‘Philanthropic Venture Arm.’ He wants me to be the face of it—the guy who convinces the neighborhood that selling out is actually just buying in.”
“Selling out to whom? El Viento?”
“To ‘human futures,’” Chase said. “He wants to acquire the local staples. Revitalize the city. He specifically mentioned he has a team looking at places like Summers Brew.”
Amelia froze, her hand hovering over the rim of her cup. “He wants to buy the café?”
“He wants to buy everything, Amelia. He’s playing SimCity and we’re just the NPCs he hasn’t assigned a task to yet. He called it ‘monetized benevolence.’”
She stared through the fogged glass at the wet pavement. “And you told him no?”
“I told him I wasn’t shopping.” Chase looked away, his reflection in the side window looking older than he felt. “But the firm is shaking. We had a rogue associate, and the Viento board doesn’t handle betrayal well. If Michael & Cole sinks, I might be waving away the only lifeboat I’ve got left.”
Amelia reached out, her fingers catching the sleeve of his jacket before settling firmly on his arm. “Chase. You’re not responsible for the ship. You’re just a passenger who knows how to tie knots. If the firm crashes, you’ll find the Wright path. You always do.”
He laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “That’s a horrible metaphor…and pun.”
“I’m working on it,” she said, her grip tightening. “But seriously—don’t let him use your voice to buy the city. You don’t want to owe him your soul just because he’s willing to pay the rent.”
Chase swallowed hard. “He asked about the clinic, too. Said animal wellness was an untapped vertical.”
Amelia’s expression hardened instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“I told him to leave you out of it,” Chase said.
“Good. He sees everything as his. Even human life.”
“He calls us ‘human resources,’” Chase corrected.
He idled at the curb outside her building. Amelia turned in her seat.
“I’m glad you said no,” she said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You don’t belong in his world, Chase. You’re too… Wright.”
Chase couldn’t find the words to reply.
She smiled.
“Coffee again?” she asked, her hand on the door handle.
“Always.”
She squeezed his hand across the gearshift before stepping out into the mist.
He sat, watching until the heavy door of her building clicked shut and the lobby light flickered on.