The bartender hands each of us our drinks, and I slip a twenty-dollar bill into his tip jar before turning back around to face the gathering.
Time to get down to business.
“Heard you called Huxley.” I sip my drink. I keep my eyes ahead, making sure to give off the vibe that I’m not happy.
“I did,” Regis says, not even bothering to hide his arrogance. “I felt like the call needed to be made.”
I stick one hand in my pocket. “Why?”
“I felt like you were preoccupied with other things, not seeing the damage her ideas could have to the building.”
“And what exactly was I preoccupied with? Because, as I recall, I was present for that entire first meeting, and all I saw from you was misogynistic behavior that will not be tolerated.”
From the corner of my eye, I see him shift, and then he says, “You were preoccupied with her. I saw the way you stared at her mouth, got lost in her words, sided with her ideas.”
Insecurity constricts my throat. Is that fucking true? I don’t recall looking at her a certain way or paying attention to her more. Either way, it’s not his fucking place to make that kind of call.
Before answering, I take a sip of my Scotch and then turn toward him. He’s still facing the crowd and I speak very carefully, so he can hear everything clearly.
“You must be mistaken, Regis, because she’s a colleague, nothing more, and unlike some other men, I’m sure someone like you, I have the ability to keep my mind focused on the project and not the woman attempting to use her voice. What you might have seen as affection or one-sidedness toward Miss Gardner was merely the ability to listen attentively to an intelligent woman, a woman who’s a partner in our business.” I step a little closer. “Did you hear that? A partner. Do you know what being a partner with Cane Enterprises entails?”
I wait for him to answer, but all he does is swallow back his drink.
“Being a partner means we’ve vetted you. We’ve made sure that not only are you credible, but we have confidence in putting our name on your brand. Miss Gardner and her business, Sustainably Organized, is a partner. She’s fully trusted by all three of the Cane brothers. We’ve invested in her company to help our company, so any problem you might have with her is a problem with us. Do you understand that?”
He nods.
“And when working in the future with Miss Gardner, you will not only listen to her suggestions, but you will respect them.”
He nods again.
“Because if you don’t respect Miss Gardner, then your days working with Cane Enterprises are numbered.” I grip his shoulder and lighten my voice as I say, “Have a good evening, Regis.”
Asshole.
How the fuck did we end up working with him?
As I go to move past him, a large man in an all-black suit walks up to me. There’s an earpiece in his left ear, and there’s no doubt who he works for. “Mr. Cane, the mayor would like to have a conversation with you.”
Perfect. The sooner I can talk to him, the sooner I can get the hell out of here.
The guard walks me past the main ballroom and through a series of halls before opening a rather grand door to the mayor’s office.
“He’ll be with you shortly.” The door clicks shut behind me, and I take that moment to observe the room. It’s the mayor’s private office. I’ve been in here only one other time. I know there’s a secret door behind one of the bookshelves, and just like the Oval Office, there’s a door hidden by the seams in the wallpaper, an entrance only the mayor uses.
In the middle of the room is a large mahogany desk that has been used by every mayor of San Francisco for the last God-knows-how-many years, but the pictures on the credenza behind the desk, those are specific to the one and only Eugene Herbert, the current mayor of San Francisco.
The secret door slides open and Eugene walks through with a large smile on his face and a cigar in hand.
“JP Cane, I’m so glad you could make it.” Eugene comes up to me and takes my hand in his.
I offer him a solid shake and say, “Mr. Mayor, thank you for the invite. It’s always nice to catch up with everyone.” It’s painful how fake I’m acting right now.
“You can drop that Mr. Mayor crap.” He laughs and gestures to the seating area. I take a seat in a brown leather chair directly across from him. He leans over to the coffee table and opens a small box, offering me a cigar.
I hold up my hand. “I’m good.”
“Not sure I’ve ever seen you smoke, Cane.” He flicks open a wooden Zippo lighter and takes a few puffs of his cigar before it’s lit.