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It’s the opposite of his aunt’s Kingdom of Beige.
“Almost like a fraternity house for grown-ups,” Felix observes.
“See that?” Mr. Odell points a triumphant finger at Felix. “I knew the concept had legs, as soon as Bradley came to me with it. A real communal environment, for people who appreciate a certain lifestyle, with none of that weird West Coast shit, pardon my French. You could eat meat and wear normal clothes. Get a haircut. There was even going to be a barber shop on-site.” He taps one of the smaller annotations, at the approximate location of Castle Claude’s kitchen. Which they probably wouldn’t need, what with ordering pizza every night.
“I hadn’t pegged Bradley as a Big Ideas person, but I guess I underestimated him,” Mr. Odell muses, filling the speechless silence. “I wouldn’t have minded a place like that myself, for the occasional weekend.”
I hide my real thoughts behind a forced smile. The concept is lifted directly from the community my grandmother and her friends have built at Castle Claude, only with basic dude trimmings. Not that lack of originality is the worst of it.
“He was all fired up,” Bradley’s stepfather continues. “This was going to be his first project as a lead developer. But he was already talking about expanding from there. Maybe setting up his own shingle. BRO Builds.”
“And you were on board with that?” Felix asks.
“There were a lot of upsides. Bradley could have lived there, which would have gotten him out of the house. And with his buddies paying rent, most of his expenses would be covered. Cheaper to reno than rebuild anyway. Slap on a coat of paint, buy some big TVs, we could have been in business.”
“This was a change of plans, then? The frat house for grown-ups?” I’m using the term “grown-ups” extremely loosely.
“Oh yeah. We had a different project in mind for that parcel, until Bradley made his pitch. I figured, why not? Let him shoot his shot. At least on a trial basis.”
“And now?” Felix asks. “Probably no point without Bradley.”
I’m holding my breath, wondering if Mr. Odell can feel the tension radiating from the random teenagers camped out in his office.
“No, that put an end to BRO Town.” He delivers this earth-shaking news so casually it takes a beat for the meaning to compute.
“Really?”Oops.That was too eager. You’d think this was my first time playing a role. “I mean, that’s understandable,” I course-correct, like the junior business type I’m pretending to be. “Under the circumstances.”
“You have to roll with the punches,” Mr. Odell agrees. “The good news is that we already had another option in the works. Something that was pitched to me a while back. There were a few speed bumps in the way, but I think we’ve got those sorted.”
“What kind of… bumps were they?” Felix asks.
Bradley’s dad waves this off. “Nothing our legal department couldn’t handle. Plan B should be good to go any day now.”
“Could you give us a hint?” I make a pinching motion with my fingers, like all I’m asking for is an itty-bitty sliver of information.
“Let’s just say we’re going with broad market appeal. Major customer base. Think about the type of buyers we have around here, and you’ll get close.”
The phone on his desk buzzes. He snatches the receiver. “Talk to me.”
While Mr. Odell listens, I replay his answer. It’s not much of a leap to guess it’s the same project Bernie is trying to get off the ground. They already have the plans; all they need now is permission to knock down Castle Claude.
Felix is raising his eyebrows at me, trying to get my attention. He tips his head at Bradley’s father, and I tune back into the conversation.
“I can see you now,” he tells the caller. “Have Carlie send you straight back. That’s fine. Thank you, Detective.”
I shoot Felix a panicked look. There can’t be more than one detective working on a case for the Odell family, which means Detective Ortiz is on his way here, and that man is too sharp not to recognize us. We need to book it out of this building, preferably without looking like we’re running from the law.
Mr. Odell hangs up the landline, frowning when he sees we’re still in his office. “Looks like we’re out of time,” he says, unsmiling. “You kids have a good day, now.”
He doesn’t have to tell us twice. “Thank you so much,” we say, talking over each other as we back toward the door.
