The Investor

I was stiff. Every muscle locked up. The cut on my hand from the roof repair throbbed.

But the sun was out.

I was sitting at the counter, drinking Don Ramón’s coffee (which I had paid for with my construction wages), when Yulissa stopped typing.

"Uh, Jefa?" Yulissa called out, looking out the window. "We have a situation."

"Police?" Sofía asked, freezing over a stack of invoices.

"No," Yulissa said, her eyes wide. "Money. Serious money."

I walked to the door.

A black Mercedes-Maybach was idling at the curb. It was sleek, polished, and looked completely alien parked next to the fruit vendor’s wooden cart. The windows were tinted pitch black.

The neighborhood had stopped moving. The motoconchos slowed down. The domino players stood up.

The back door of the Mercedes opened.

A man stepped out. He was in his sixties, wearing a bespoke navy suit that cost more than this entire block. He adjusted his sunglasses, looked at the faded sign of Imprenta Mercedes, and then looked directly at me.

"Oh no," I whispered.

"Is that him?" Sofía asked, standing beside me.

"That's the investor," I said. "That's the man I humiliated on stage."

Giovanni walked toward the shop. Two large men in suits (security) flanked him.

I stepped out onto the sidewalk to meet him. I wasn't going to let him corner me inside.

"Giovanni," I said, trying to project confidence despite wearing a neon yellow construction vest over a stained t-shirt.

Giovanni stopped. He took off his sunglasses. His eyes were cold, shrewd, and unreadable.

"Max," he said. His voice was gravel. "You are hard to find. My team said you were in a hotel. Then they said you were... here."

He gestured vaguely at the peeling paint of the building.

"I moved," I said.

"I see." Giovanni looked at Sofía, who had stepped out to stand next to me. He didn't dismiss her like Cata had. He assessed her. "And this is the associate?"

"This is Sofía Mercedes," I said firmly. "The owner of this business. And my partner."

Giovanni nodded once. "Ms. Mercedes."

"Mr. Moretti," Sofía said, her chin high. "Welcome to the real Santo Domingo."

Giovanni turned back to me.

"The Ministry of Tourism called me," Giovanni said. "They want to condemn the hotel. They say it is structurally unsound because of the materials you exposed."

"They're right," I said. "It's a fire trap."

"It is a fifty-million-dollar investment," Giovanni countered, his voice dropping. "If that building comes down, Max, Sterling-DeLuca isn't the only one who loses. I lose. And I do not like to lose."

He stepped closer.

"Cata says you are having a breakdown. She says you are vindictive. She says the marble in the warehouse in Jersey is real."

"She's lying," I said.

Giovanni stared at me for a long, agonizing silence.

"Convince me," he commanded.

"What?"

"Take me to the site," Giovanni said. "Show me the bones. If you are lying, Max, I will leave you here to rot with your lawsuits. But if you are right... then you are the only one who can fix it."