I gave a slight nod. Got it.
Harlan started his presentation. After about five minutes, James cut him off, which to be honest, was four minutes and ten seconds longer than I’d expected.
“I’ve heard enough,” he said, annoyed.
Harlan jolted in his seat. “I can give you the condensed version, if you prefer.”
James leveled him with a look. “This is bullshit. Delgotto said it was impossible to give us everything we asked for, and your amateur slides aren’t going to convince me that you can.”
Harlan laughed. “I hate to speak ill of a competitor, but Franklin can be a little … old-fashioned in his thinking. I like to think outside of the box.”
My face brightened. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”
I snuck a glance at James, who was giving Harlan a steely gaze.
I turned back. “We like to think outside the box too.” I let the words hang, then added, “We think creativity in all areas is underrated.” I paused again. “We want to partner with someone who is open to new ideas—and willing to take risks.”
Harlan stared at me for a beat. “What kind of risks are we talkin’ about here, Amber?”
“I’m talking about greasing a few sticky wheels if the engine gets stalled on the tracks.” I kept my tone casual, like I was talking about building permits, not bribing people.
He nodded slowly, as if weighing my statement. “Do you anticipate any engines getting stalled?”
James spoke up. “If you run enough engines, they’re all bound to stall at one point or another.”
Harlan nodded. “True. True.”
“Delgotto understood what we meant,” James said. “We didn’t have to spell it out for him.”
Harlan lifted his hands in defense and laughed, like this was all good-natured banter. “Now hold on there, Jeff. I never said I didn’t get it. I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“I’m not sure we’re even readin’ the same book,” James said, disgust drenching his words.
Indecision flickered over Harlan’s face, quickly followed by determination. “I understand your concern, Jeff, but you have to understand mine. We’ve just met. I can’t disclose my full repertoire of tricks for greasing those wheels to the wrong people.”
“You’re calling us the wrong people?” James stood. “Then I don’t see any reason to waste any more of my time.” He gave me a sharp look. “Amber.”
“Wait!” Harlan called, panic cracking his voice as James headed for the door.
James stopped and turned back, his face a mask of cold contempt.
“We can discuss a few things,” Harlan said quickly, “so you understand the scope of my services. But I value discretion on all sides.”
James held there for a long moment, studying Harlan like an ant under a magnifying glass. Then he sat again, wearing a look of bored impatience.
Harlan turned to me, his eyes darting between us like he was scrambling for his next move and coming up empty.
He wasn’t going to give us anything unless we proved we were just as dirty as we were hinting. I decided to take a chance and maybe get more out of him than we’d planned.
“Mr. Harlan,” I said slowly, like I was talking to a preschooler.
“Miles,” he said. “Please, call me Miles.”
“Miles,” I repeated. “There’s a reason we came to you. We were told that you’re willing to help with … sticky situations.” I let that bait hang. “Especially since you’ve had a few sticky situations of your own.”
His face went blank. “Where did you happen to hear that?” he asked carefully.
“We may be new to Little Rock,” I said, “but we do have some friends in town. Friends of the family.” I grimaced. “Friends of Jeff’s father, originally, and now friends of ours. When we were asking for developer recommendations, your name came up.”
