10. Amber Hart, second reprise again
Public records are full of information, if one knows how to search them. Amber does. Dona Dominguez's property is owned by a holding company. The holding company is owned by a Mr. Blakely, but the address is false. Mr. Blakely also owns another company, though. Sloppy, if he's trying to cover his tracks - the other company has a website with a real phone number. Likely just tax evasion then, rather than anything too nefarious.
Qualified Management is run from an old brick office building, shabby in a city of steel and glass towers. The suite is on the third floor, and Amber passes several empty offices, a private detective, and one that just advises "Discreet Services" in simple black letters on frosted glass on her way up. It's definitely not exactly the hallowed halls of power, which strikes Amber as a little strange - QM was making decent money, as best she could tell. Surely they could afford a nicer office? Her meeting with Mr. Johnathan Blakely, CEO, was scheduled for just late enough to give her a chance to get ready, but still an hour or two after business would normally close.
A knock on the door sees Blakely himself opening the door. He's middle-aged, has the kind of face that gives one the impression of constant nervousness, and has a firm handshake. His office is neat, degrees on the wall, carefully neutral business texts in a bookshelf. "Now - you said you wanted to speak about a purchase deal?"
"Well, informally about the possibility of one," she nods agreeably. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Ah. That informally. Very well." He gives Amber the kind of casual once-over of someone appreciative of her looks without really intending to make a pass. "I'll get my coat."
Amber suggests a rather nice restaurant within walking distance, nicer than she'd usually frequent, and the bar along one wall. She looked it up before she arrived, and scouted it briefly on her way in. If they're going to be discussing the purchase of entire buildings, then she clearly represents the sort of person with money to spare, and given how little of her wages she usually spends on necessities, she can afford to pretend for an evening. She's wearing a nice sweater, tight enough to show off the curves of her chest without being so tight that it's obviously its function.
The bartender in a place like this has obviously seen just this kind of meeting happen a thousand times before, and gives them a respectful space without seeming like he's giving them that space. Small talk passes, Blakely is a little awkward, but... Amber realizes that he's trying to hide desperation. He wants to do anything to make this deal work, but knows that Amber knowing that would harm his position. Finally they get to the meat. "So, QM has a long list of properties that we manage, but I imagine you have a specific one in mind."
"The building on 42nd, yes. We already manage other buildings in the neighborhood, so it would fit our portfolio. But the question I have to lead with," she leans in a bit closer, catching his eye and holding it with her own gaze, "is why you're selling it."
"Ah, that one. Yes- I'm afraid it's not for sale." She can see some of the hope die in his eyes as she speaks. "It's already being sold to... other interested parties."
Amber leans back with a disappointed sigh. "Well, the records did seem a bit too good to be true, makes sense it would be the first of the lot to get snapped up," she takes a very, very small sip of her drink to keep up appearances, leaving open space in the conversation for him to fill. What she's been able to dig up about the Dona's building it too good to be true. Too good to be true usually means they're not.
"I'm sorry? What do you mean too good to be true?"
"No late payments. No broken rental agreements in years." She wonders if she's accidentally revealed she has information she shouldn't have access to. "We had access to the books from the previous company," she admits, hoping he'll take it as an explanation for why she wanted this meeting so informally.
Blakely has a harder time hiding some of his nerves at this revelation. "Well, they were excellent tenants. Model ones, really. It was rather astonishing to me as well, but everything ran like clockwork."
"And your other buyer has already finalized? No chance we could persuade you with a better offer?" She frowns, attempting to play on his obvious desperation for quick cash.
"I'm ah - afraid that the new buyer is - ah - quite intractable. Contracts have been... drawn up." He's lying, Amber can almost taste it on the air. But not about this new buyer, no... he's lying that there are contracts. Procedures. Legality.
That's about enough of that, Amber decides. "Oh come now. They twist your arm and threaten your kneecaps?" She says it as a scoffing half-joke, as though the idea is a rather silly one. Maybe she should have asked Teresa first after all.
He chuckles weakly, trying to play along with the joke, "Oh, something like that. You know how it is. But I'm sure we can make a deal for another property, Ms. Hart. No need to waste the meeting time, after all."
She leans closer again, catching his eyes. More intensity, this time. He drowns in her gaze, weak willed human caught in her deep, red eyes. His will snaps under hers, and the feeling sends a little shiver of satisfaction down Amber's spine.
"Who are they, Mr. Blakely? What hold do they have over you?" "Dangerous people. Drugs and guns, maybe. They wanted the building, I think as a place to run their operation. I don't know for sure." He says in a flat voice. "They told me to keep quiet. I want money so I can get out of the city cleanly."
"Good boy. I need a name" Ok.
"Forget I asked." Ok.
Amber leans back, breaking the eye contact and sighing as if she hasn't just gotten what she needed from this conversation. "I suppose so. The property on 42nd is the one I was authorized to ask about, but it's possible we might be interested in another building further afield, if the price is right. Do you have anything else in the area?"
The relief is palpable. "I think we might, yes. Let me tell you about a couple of options."
Teresa likes to hold meetings during business hours it seems - and luckily for Amber, business hours for a nightclub are at night. She's shown in through an employee entrance, and James meets her just inside the door, nodding once, and falling in to walk beside her as they head for the office suspended above the main floor. "I figured you'd be trouble." He says. Amber thinks he's teasing, but his gruff tone could be completely sincere.
Amber decides to take it as a compliment, whether or not it's meant that way. She is trouble, and rather pleased with herself about it. "And I figured you'd know how to handle it," she agrees, taking the same completely serious tone. She hasn't changed since her meeting with Mr. Blakely, though she has stopped by a bathroom to spit up the drink she finished in his presence to allay suspicions.
Just before they reach the main floor he stops her. "Glad we're on the same page, then. I have to search you." He shrugs. "Part of the job."
She nods, and stands still, arms slightly spread to give access to her flanks. She has nothing to hide, beyond perhaps the fact that she's rather colder than she ought to be, and he seems unlikely to cop enough of a feel to notice that.
James pats Amber down quickly and professionally. He nods when he finishes and leads her out through the main floor and up the stairs to Teresa's office. It's lit in dark reds tonight, and her severe bun of black hair shines like it was slick in the glow. "Miss Hart. I admit, I was surprised to hear from you. Please, have a seat. Tell me what I can do for you." Gracious in her position of power, but emphasizing it - she is good.
"An inquiry, if you don't mind, to avoid any potential trouble. I was looking into the purchase of an apartment building. An old brick one, down on 42nd street." Amber sits upright, hands in her lap, remaining perfectly serious, expression making it clear that she's not at all judging any of this. "Some aspects of the deal made me think of you, and so I decided to come speak directly rather than continue my inquiries and risk upsetting anyone."
"42nd street..." Teresa considers that for a moment, then looks to James, frowning. "The complex on 42nd, that's-?" He nods. "Dominguez. Everyone knew enough to steer clear. Until recently." James folds his arms and Amber can see a bit of a tattoo on his bicep when the sleeve of his t-shirt rides up a little. "You got business with the Dominguez Family?"
"I am working with the Dona, yes," she nods. "Someone is attempting to upset her hold on the property." Either the room is about to become extremely chilly, or she's about to make some new friends. It's hard to tell, and were she mortal, she'd be sweating bullets. She's not, though. The icy grip of the beast is good for some things, and remaining cool around dangerous people is one of them. They're only mortals, after all.
There's a moment of re-evaluation in Teresa and James's eyes. "With or for?" Teresa asks, sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs. Not a hint of her true opinion shows on her face.
"With. She requested a favor." Of Siveri. But they don't need to know that.
James raises an eyebrow and glances to Teresa. She gives him an unreadable look in return and then looks back to Amber. "We have nothing against Dominguez, though last I heard Hector was the head of the family."
"An old matriarch of the family. Not Hector," she clarifies. A misstep, but not a fatal one. She has no doubt that this Hector - mortal descendant - will back her up in this matter if need be.
Another pause. "Then what can we do for you? I doubt anyone from the family would be selling to an outsider."
"That's what I'm attempting to find out," Amber answers with a frown. "The holding company was bought out, and the new owner is being pressured to sell to a third party." She shakes her head. "I'm looking to figure out who, exactly. I'm pleased to learn it's not you, but that does leave me at a loss. 'Cortez' is the name I have, though I doubt it's real."
Teresa considers this information, turning it over in her mind. "This Dona - you're in direct contact?"
"I am. She prefers not to undercut the authority of the current head of house, of course, which is why I'm acting as an outside agent," she makes up an easy excuse for why she was brought in at all. It even has the benefit of being a half truth.
"Then I'll see what I can find out about this Cortez." She doesn't do anything so gauche as talk about favors given or owed, just a declaration of intent. She knows that Amber knows - if she didn't, then Teresa wouldn't be talking to her. "James, you know where to start." He nods. "Good. Then Ms. Hart, if there's nothing else, James will see you out." There's a slight shift in her tone, the way she carries herself in relation to Amber. Respect, or perhaps respectful wariness, that wasn't present before.
"Thank you for your time, Ms. Mendoza." Amber stands and offers a bow. "Please let me know if there's any way I can be of assistance."
As they make their way out of Vortex, James pulls Amber aside in a storage room in the employees section, speaking quietly. "You sure you know what you're doing with the Dominguezes?" He looks Amber in the eyes.
She pauses, cocking her head and considering him for a moment, meeting his gaze without looking away. "Yes." That one word is all she needs. I know more than I'm telling you. Anything more would weaken the statement. I am more than I appear.
He sighs through his nose, close enough that Amber can smell the warmth of his blood on the air. "Alright. Your call." He releases his light grip on Amber's arm and steps back from her, going to the door and opening it for her.
She takes her leave, turning in the doorway to look back at him from the darkness outside. "I appreciate the thought," she offers a break in the hard surface she presented a moment ago. "But yes."