world and brought them to Austin. He had spent money and spared no expense. But five years and $5 billion later, there was still no cure. The doctors gave the boy a year.
Consequently, while Russell Reeves was beloved and admired by everyone, he was envied by no one. He was viewed as a tragic figure in Austin. And he was standing in Andy's doorway.
"May I come in?"
Andy dropped the newspaper and stood. Max sensed something was up, so he stood, too.
"Mr. Reeves. Yes, sir. Please come in."
Reeves glanced over at Max. "Does it bite?"
"Only Jo's muffins. Name's Max." Andy stuck his hand out. "I'm Andy Prescott."
Andy had never before shaken the hand of a billionaire. Or even a millionaire, except for Tres.
"Andy, I'm Russell Reeves."
Russell Reeves' net worth made him seem bigger than life, but he was actually no bigger than Andy. His suit was tailored and expensive and draped like silk over his shoulders. He had once worn thick glasses, but Andy had read that he had gotten laser eye surgery. His black hair, once famously thick and curly, was now thinner and shorter and gray on the sides. None of the girls at Whole Foods would call him handsome, but they'd be all over him like politicians on special-interest money. Especially Suzie. Fifteen billion dollars in the bank improved a man's looks.
Russell Reeves was frowning.
"You get mugged?"
"Trail biking. Took a header on the greenbelt yesterday."
Reeves nodded then surveyed the small office.
"No wasted space. I like that."
"You do?"
Reeves smiled. "When I first started out, I lived at work, an old building in the warehouse district. Couldn't afford an apartment, so I showered at the Y." He gestured at the open window. "No air-conditioning, like this place."
Violin music drifted in from next door. The student was advanced. Reeves cocked his head to listen.
"Nice."
"Comes with the rent."
"Mind if I sit down?"
"Oh, yeah, sure, Mr. Reeves."
They sat across the card table from each other. Russell Reeves studied Andy for a long, uncomfortable moment; the last time Andy had felt this uneasy was when he had met with the dean of the law school to learn whether he had been admitted.
"Andy, I need a lawyer."
"You've got hundreds of lawyers."
"This is special."
"You got stopped speeding through a school zone?"
Reeves smiled. "A little more special than a speeding ticket, Andy. I want to fix SoCo."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing a billion dollars can't fix."
"I don't represent developers."
"Ah, a man of principle."
"Uh, no. I've just never been asked."
"Oh. Well, Andy, I want to purchase those eyesores—old abandoned grocery stores, strip centers, slum apartments—and build quality low-income housing so regular people can afford to live in SoCo. Town homes with pools and playscapes for kids."
"We've been trying to get the city to build low-income housing down here for years."
"Governments are bureaucracies, Andy. I have the money and power to cut through the bureaucracy and get things done. The same people said it couldn't be done in East Austin, but we did it. And I want to do it here. Austin should be for all people regardless of wealth and I want you to help me make it that way. Andy, I want you to be my lawyer in SoCo."
"Why me?"
"Like I said, Andy, I've got the money and power to make this happen at city hall. What I don't have is the trust of the people down here. They'll say I'm trying to take over SoCo. Change it. Make it like North Austin."
"People down here don't trust anyone north of the river."
"Which is why I need a lawyer who's trusted south of the river."
"I do traffic tickets."
"You're a lawyer, aren't you?"
Andy glanced up at his diploma hanging on the wall next to the American IronHorse poster.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"And you know everyone down here and everyone knows you?"
Andy shrugged.
"And everyone down here trusts you?"
Another shrug.
"And you office above a tattoo parlor, so I'm betting you've got a tattoo?"
Andy nodded.
Consequently, while Russell Reeves was beloved and admired by everyone, he was envied by no one. He was viewed as a tragic figure in Austin. And he was standing in Andy's doorway.
"May I come in?"
Andy dropped the newspaper and stood. Max sensed something was up, so he stood, too.
"Mr. Reeves. Yes, sir. Please come in."
Reeves glanced over at Max. "Does it bite?"
"Only Jo's muffins. Name's Max." Andy stuck his hand out. "I'm Andy Prescott."
Andy had never before shaken the hand of a billionaire. Or even a millionaire, except for Tres.
"Andy, I'm Russell Reeves."
Russell Reeves' net worth made him seem bigger than life, but he was actually no bigger than Andy. His suit was tailored and expensive and draped like silk over his shoulders. He had once worn thick glasses, but Andy had read that he had gotten laser eye surgery. His black hair, once famously thick and curly, was now thinner and shorter and gray on the sides. None of the girls at Whole Foods would call him handsome, but they'd be all over him like politicians on special-interest money. Especially Suzie. Fifteen billion dollars in the bank improved a man's looks.
Russell Reeves was frowning.
"You get mugged?"
"Trail biking. Took a header on the greenbelt yesterday."
Reeves nodded then surveyed the small office.
"No wasted space. I like that."
"You do?"
Reeves smiled. "When I first started out, I lived at work, an old building in the warehouse district. Couldn't afford an apartment, so I showered at the Y." He gestured at the open window. "No air-conditioning, like this place."
Violin music drifted in from next door. The student was advanced. Reeves cocked his head to listen.
"Nice."
"Comes with the rent."
"Mind if I sit down?"
"Oh, yeah, sure, Mr. Reeves."
They sat across the card table from each other. Russell Reeves studied Andy for a long, uncomfortable moment; the last time Andy had felt this uneasy was when he had met with the dean of the law school to learn whether he had been admitted.
"Andy, I need a lawyer."
"You've got hundreds of lawyers."
"This is special."
"You got stopped speeding through a school zone?"
Reeves smiled. "A little more special than a speeding ticket, Andy. I want to fix SoCo."
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing a billion dollars can't fix."
"I don't represent developers."
"Ah, a man of principle."
"Uh, no. I've just never been asked."
"Oh. Well, Andy, I want to purchase those eyesores—old abandoned grocery stores, strip centers, slum apartments—and build quality low-income housing so regular people can afford to live in SoCo. Town homes with pools and playscapes for kids."
"We've been trying to get the city to build low-income housing down here for years."
"Governments are bureaucracies, Andy. I have the money and power to cut through the bureaucracy and get things done. The same people said it couldn't be done in East Austin, but we did it. And I want to do it here. Austin should be for all people regardless of wealth and I want you to help me make it that way. Andy, I want you to be my lawyer in SoCo."
"Why me?"
"Like I said, Andy, I've got the money and power to make this happen at city hall. What I don't have is the trust of the people down here. They'll say I'm trying to take over SoCo. Change it. Make it like North Austin."
"People down here don't trust anyone north of the river."
"Which is why I need a lawyer who's trusted south of the river."
"I do traffic tickets."
"You're a lawyer, aren't you?"
Andy glanced up at his diploma hanging on the wall next to the American IronHorse poster.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"And you know everyone down here and everyone knows you?"
Andy shrugged.
"And everyone down here trusts you?"
Another shrug.
"And you office above a tattoo parlor, so I'm betting you've got a tattoo?"
Andy nodded.
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