up.
“That’s him,” Morgan said. “That’s the man with the money, I bet you.”
“Morgan,” he said. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is?”
Morgan got up to follow Frank into the restaurant. The phone continued to ring.
“I smell something, Frank,” he said. “And it ain’t just fish.”
“What’s that?”
“I smell money.”
Frank rolled his eyes, picked up the phone.
“Mr. Bravo?” The voice on the line was measured, confident.
“Speaking,” he said.
“And how are you today, sir?”
“Been better. Been worse.”
Chuckling on the line. Too agreeable, Frank thought. He’s humoring me. Already he didn’t like this guy.
“Who is this?” he said.
“Mr. Bravo, my name is Alonzo Cryder. I am the acquisitions director for a real estate development company called Vista Properties. We’re out of Atlanta. Mr. Bravo, may I have a few moments of your time?”
“You out of it? Or in it?”
“Beg pardon?
“Atlanta. You said you were out of it.” Frank always hated that expression. How could you be out of something if you were in it? God knows he was never out of Utina, no matter how much he wanted to be. Morgan waved to catch his attention, then scowled and shook his head at Frank. “ Be nice ,” Morgan mouthed silently. He raised his right hand, rubbed his thumb against his fingers.
“Oh, no, we’re here in Atlanta,” said Cryder. “Quite. We’ve been here for nearly thirty years. We’re specialists in Georgia and Florida development, Mr. Bravo.”
“You don’t have to keep calling me Mr. Bravo. I go by Frank.” He didn’t want to give this guy the wrong idea, make him think they were chums, but being called Mr. Bravo always rankled him. It made him think of Dean.
More chuckling. “Oh, thank you, Frank. You know, I never like to presume.”
“So what can I do for you, Alonzo?” Frank said.
“Well, I will cut right to the chase, Frank. I would like to come see you to discuss the possible acquisition of your restaurant property.”
“It’s not for sale.”
“Well, I realize it’s not presently on the market. But I thought you might be interested in having a discussion about the potential opportunity we might be able to offer you.”
Frank looked out through the back door of the kitchen. It was nearly noon, and the sun was bright across the water, making diamond tips and sequins across the surface.
“Why?” he said, after a solid pause.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to buy it?”
“It’s a lovely piece of land,” Cryder said.
“Yes, I know that.”
“And our company’s president—he has some fondness for your area. He is thinking of acquiring the property as a pet project—something to just hang on to for a while, maybe one day turn into a retreat for his family.”
What was this asshole talking about? “A retreat?”
“Yes, something simple. A place to take the grandkids, get away from the rat race, you know. It’s so far away from everything. It’s so quiet there. Maybe not the best place for a business, as you may be aware, but a nice place to get away from it all. You know what I mean, Frank.”
Frank did not know. But he was beginning to suspect. Cryder was trying to devalue the place, make it appear that the only sensible use for a spot of land like this was for some rich old fart to sit around with his grandkids and pretend to be an outdoorsman. As if.
“It’s pretty hot here,” Frank said.
“Oh, well, yes. It’s hot everywhere in Florida.”
“No, I mean business. We’re hot. We’re busy. The restaurant is worth good money as it is.”
“But you’re not making money, Frank.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Not real money.” Alonzo paused. “Have you ever thought about real money, Frank?”
“Money’s money, Mr. Cryder. It’s all real to me.”
More chuckling. “Alonzo. It’s Alonzo. Well, we’ll see. We’ll see. I think you and I should sit down and talk
“That’s him,” Morgan said. “That’s the man with the money, I bet you.”
“Morgan,” he said. “Didn’t your mama ever tell you if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is?”
Morgan got up to follow Frank into the restaurant. The phone continued to ring.
“I smell something, Frank,” he said. “And it ain’t just fish.”
“What’s that?”
“I smell money.”
Frank rolled his eyes, picked up the phone.
“Mr. Bravo?” The voice on the line was measured, confident.
“Speaking,” he said.
“And how are you today, sir?”
“Been better. Been worse.”
Chuckling on the line. Too agreeable, Frank thought. He’s humoring me. Already he didn’t like this guy.
“Who is this?” he said.
“Mr. Bravo, my name is Alonzo Cryder. I am the acquisitions director for a real estate development company called Vista Properties. We’re out of Atlanta. Mr. Bravo, may I have a few moments of your time?”
“You out of it? Or in it?”
“Beg pardon?
“Atlanta. You said you were out of it.” Frank always hated that expression. How could you be out of something if you were in it? God knows he was never out of Utina, no matter how much he wanted to be. Morgan waved to catch his attention, then scowled and shook his head at Frank. “ Be nice ,” Morgan mouthed silently. He raised his right hand, rubbed his thumb against his fingers.
“Oh, no, we’re here in Atlanta,” said Cryder. “Quite. We’ve been here for nearly thirty years. We’re specialists in Georgia and Florida development, Mr. Bravo.”
“You don’t have to keep calling me Mr. Bravo. I go by Frank.” He didn’t want to give this guy the wrong idea, make him think they were chums, but being called Mr. Bravo always rankled him. It made him think of Dean.
More chuckling. “Oh, thank you, Frank. You know, I never like to presume.”
“So what can I do for you, Alonzo?” Frank said.
“Well, I will cut right to the chase, Frank. I would like to come see you to discuss the possible acquisition of your restaurant property.”
“It’s not for sale.”
“Well, I realize it’s not presently on the market. But I thought you might be interested in having a discussion about the potential opportunity we might be able to offer you.”
Frank looked out through the back door of the kitchen. It was nearly noon, and the sun was bright across the water, making diamond tips and sequins across the surface.
“Why?” he said, after a solid pause.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to buy it?”
“It’s a lovely piece of land,” Cryder said.
“Yes, I know that.”
“And our company’s president—he has some fondness for your area. He is thinking of acquiring the property as a pet project—something to just hang on to for a while, maybe one day turn into a retreat for his family.”
What was this asshole talking about? “A retreat?”
“Yes, something simple. A place to take the grandkids, get away from the rat race, you know. It’s so far away from everything. It’s so quiet there. Maybe not the best place for a business, as you may be aware, but a nice place to get away from it all. You know what I mean, Frank.”
Frank did not know. But he was beginning to suspect. Cryder was trying to devalue the place, make it appear that the only sensible use for a spot of land like this was for some rich old fart to sit around with his grandkids and pretend to be an outdoorsman. As if.
“It’s pretty hot here,” Frank said.
“Oh, well, yes. It’s hot everywhere in Florida.”
“No, I mean business. We’re hot. We’re busy. The restaurant is worth good money as it is.”
“But you’re not making money, Frank.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Not real money.” Alonzo paused. “Have you ever thought about real money, Frank?”
“Money’s money, Mr. Cryder. It’s all real to me.”
More chuckling. “Alonzo. It’s Alonzo. Well, we’ll see. We’ll see. I think you and I should sit down and talk
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