“Still don’t see what this has to do with us,” Samson says, but my brain is already spitting out all kinds of different scenarios. None of them good.
“I now own this building,” Pierce reveals.
“You’ll be our landlord,” Samson says.
“In a matter of speaking, yes.”
“And what does that have to do with your proposal?” I ask.
“Nothing, really. Unless you don’t find it acceptable.”
I scoop up the folder and leaf through it. The usual legal jargon that no one understands, until I get to the last page. I draw in a breath, raise my eyes and force my voice to remain level. “You’re planning on canceling our lease.”
“Only if you don’t meet my price increaseor?—”
“Take you on as our promoter.”
“That’s illegal,” Samson barks.
“No, I can assure you it’s quite legal. I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I’m also a lawyer, and although I haven’t practiced in years, I do know the law.” He waves his hand over the contract. “Feel free to take it to your own lawyers. You’ll find out it’s completely legitimate.”
“And if we don’t take what you’re offering?”
“There is a way around it all.”
Samson and I exchange a look. “We’re listening.”
“It’s very simple and really is the best way . . . sell Club Wicked to me.”
“No fuckin’ way,” Samson barks.
“Hear me out.” Graham raises his palms. “By owning the building and the club, I absorb the lease and all the costs of running a building of this size. Plus the headaches of the day-to-day workings of such a huge space.”
“Forget it,” Samson says.
“Not happening,” I add, then cut my glance to Jax, who is uncharacteristically quiet. He’s usually the one I have to rein in, but he hasn’t uttered a word one way or the other.
“If you think of this rationally instead of emotionally, you’ll see that?—”
“That we’re being fucked.” Samson pushes off the couch. “There’s no fuckin’ way we’re selling Wicked to you or anybody else.”
Graham calmly turns to me. “I’m sure you’re able to see the importance?—”
“Quit with the fuckin’ bullshit,” Samson bellows. “You set this up from the beginning. You?—"
I raise my hand, and Samson swallows his words.
“I have one question. Was this your plan all along?” I ask. “Was our last meeting just a way to reel us in andthen?—”
“I had bids on a few investments in Vegas, but I had no way of knowing which ones would come through.” Pierce shrugs. “You have to admit you have a prime piece of real estate here on the corner of Flamingo and Las Vegas Blvd. And since your front door is on Flamingo, the taxes and rental space is much lower, while benefitting from the traffic the Strip generates.”
“And if we refuse to sell?” I pin him with a look that demands an answer.
“That would be very unwise from a business point of view.”
“How so?” I know what the fucker is gonna say, but I want to hear him say it out loud.
“You’d have an increase in rent, plus my fee as a promoter.”
