“Uh,” a deep voice replied. “It’s Emmett, actually.”
I straighten, walking back into the house. “Oh. Hey. Everything okay?”
“All good. Listen – Jax told me you were involved with something to do with the beta housing? Outside the city?”
Frowning, I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Logan walks in, his shirt spattered in red paint, and I hand him another bottle.
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “I put some plans together a while back, but I was never able to get Erikkson to take them to the Council. Something about the budgets, but knowing what we do now, I’m pretty sure that was bullshit.”
“I’d say so. Look, David Cohen is really pushing me on this position. I’m not sold, but I do want to get out there and take a look, get more of a feel for how things are working. You free to come? I can grab you in half an hour.”
I check the time. “Sure. I can bring the plans with me.”
“Great. Thanks, Gray.”
Logan’s hands slide around my waist as I hang up. “Who was that?”
As I explain, his eyes fly up. “Sounds like he is considering it, if he wants to go take a look at the beta housing.”
A frisson of excitement runs through me. “Maybe. Guess we’ll find out.”
* * *
Emmett and I settle outside a small coffee shop, and I spread the plans out.
“Hell of a difference.” Emmett shades his eyes as he looks around us. “From Navarre, I mean.”
I know exactly what he means. The street around us is run-down as hell, litter overflowing the tiny bins, flowerbeds empty. Even the cars look beat-up, a reflection of the hierarchy. Betas don’t typically have higher-paying jobs here, most reserved for alphas and even the odd omega. The Council position is the exception, not a rule, and it’s always felt more like a box-ticking exercise than anything else.
I explain to Emmett, and he nods. “I thought so. Cohen seems keen to change that, though. Make it more equal across the three designations.”
“If he said it, I’d believe him. Tristan is even more passionate about it, and he’s taking over from David when he retires.” I point at a spot on the plans. “You see this spot here? It’s just a worn out piece of land. We could build temporary homes here, and move people around in batches, then move them back in when their homes are ready.”
“How would we fund it?” Emmett asks. “And where would we get the contractors? You’d need specialists for some of this, and Navarre might not have the right skills.”
We bat ideas back and forth for hours, getting our drinks topped off before we’re ushered out at closing time by the friendly but firm older beta owner.
“So,” I ask as we settle back into Emmett’s truck. I slide the rolled-up plans under my seat as he reverses out of his parking space. “What do you think?”
He sighs. “I think it could work. It’s a lot of work, though. At least a few years. And the Council would have to agree the funding, although it looks like they’ve been massively underfunding this area for years.”
“I think Erikkson was probably skimming off the top.” It makes sense, given what we know. “But definitely still underfunded, in any case. You should take the job, Emmett. It doesn’t have to be a figurehead with no purpose. That’s just what Erikkson made it.”
He rolls his eyes. “You sound like Jessalyn.”
But his fingers tap restlessly on the steering wheel, and he looks distracted when he drops me off. “Can I borrow those plans?” he asks. “I want to take another look, maybe make some notes.”
“Keep them. I have copies.”
I grin to myself as I walk back in, whistling. It felt good to get back to what really makes me tick, and to talk it over with someone else who feels as invested as I am. I’ve spentyearstrying to get people to pay attention to those plans, building a name for myself by designing more flashy, city-center pieces like the opera house.
I hope Emmett takes the job. We could use someone like him, someone who understands what hard work looks like and can put it to use where it’s needed.
“Lo?” I call, pushing open his studio door. He has his back to me, his shoulders hunched as he leans over an easel with his headphones over his ears.
I don’t want to disturb him, so I grab a seat on the couch at the back of the room, tilting my head back and closing my eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of turps and oil.
My eyes open when the door squeaks quietly. Sienna pops her head around the door, her gaze moving to Logan. I wave at her, and she pads over to me, curling into my side.
