“Restructure what, for fuck’s sake?”
“They want to neutralize the problem. And Weston, darling. Right now, you’re the problem.”
“They can kiss my ass,” I said.
She stood from her chair and pointed her bony finger at me. “Fix it. Clean up your image. Look stable and relatable. Even if it is all pretend. We both know you’re very good at pretending. I’m going to the PR department to talk to Kylie about cleaning up your damn image, and you’re going to listen to her or else.” She left my office.
A couple of hours later, my PR manager, Kylie, entered my office.
“I threatened Page Six with lawsuits, and they don’t care. They won’t retract the story since they have a video of the shouting match in the street.”
“FUCK!” I shouted, leaning back in my chair and running my hand down my face. “I pay you damn good money to fix things. FIX THIS!” I shouted, pointing at her. I stood from my chair and slipped on my suit coat. “I need some fresh air.”
I left the office and walked a couple of blocks to clear my head. Passing by The Morning Blend, I stopped, opened the door, and stepped inside. My phone rang, and Reece was calling.
“Hold on a second, Reece?” I answered, snapping my fingers at the barista to get her attention. “Large black coffee,” I said. “Tell me it’s done, Reece?”
“It’s not done. Avila is stalling,” he said.
I threw some cash on the counter, grabbed my coffee, and sat down at a small table over by the window.
“He sent me a two-page email stating how he’s been in business for over forty years in the same exact location. He’s asking, and I’m quoting him, so you don’t shoot the messenger.”
“What is he asking?” I gritted my teeth.
“Whether there’s room to be reasonable,” Reece said.
I chuckled. “Room to be reasonable? He rents the property. Since when does he think he can negotiate against the man who owns it?”
“He wants to keep the same number that he did three years ago, Wes.”
“The number is the number. I don’t care what lease he signed three years ago. I own the building now, and the terms are mine. If the bakery can’t make the rent, the bakery can find a cheaper zip code. I couldn’t care less. He’s already paying well below market.”
“Listen, Wes. And just remember, this isn’t coming from me personally. I’m telling you that if you don’t negotiate with Avila, there’s a version of this where he makes his way to a reporter, and the headline reads:Castile Properties Evicts Beloved Family Bakery of Forty Years.Kylie is already trying to dig you out of one mess. Do you really want another hanging over you?”
“I don’t give a fuck if they’ve been there for forty years. Forty years later, and they still don’t own the floor they stand on. That’s not my problem. That’s a life-choice problem Avila made for himself. You get him to sign the lease by the end of the week, or I will personally slap the eviction notice on his door. Got it?”
I heard Reece let out a long sigh. “Yes, Wes. I got it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I ended the call and tossed my phone on the table. As I sipped my coffee, I heard a voice behind me.
“Must be nice.”
Turning my head, my eyes locked on a beautiful woman sitting at the table behind me. How did I not notice her when I walked in?
“Sorry?” I spoke.
“Having that much.” She waved her hand. “And caring that little.”
“Do you always make a habit of listening in on other people’s phone calls?” My brow arched.
“Not usually. But I couldn’t help but overhear how awful you were being. If you’re going to publicly destroy a man’s livelihood for the past forty years, you should probably lower your voice.”
“Excuse me?” I cocked my head.
“The bakery owner you’ve apparently decided to toss into the street like yesterday’s muffin,” she said.
“I couldn’t help but chuckle. “A muffin?”
