Chapter 3

My hand was still on the door handle.

Marla stepped forward instinctively.

"Wade, enough. Callie's soaked. Let her go home."

He didn't move.

"So she can keep bleeding you dry every year? We've come this far. We might as well finish it. Otherwise she'll remind you of a few old favors, and you'll give in all over again."

I turned to face him.

"What are you trying to say?"

Wade snorted, grabbed a ledger from the counter, and slapped it onto the table.

"That thirty-six grand she takes every year? It stops."

Marla blanched. "Wade!"

He ignored her and raised his voice for the owners gathered by the door.

"We're all small business owners. Thirty-six thousand a year. Who doesn't miss that money? Nobody said anything before because they didn't want to cause trouble or make enemies. Why should that stop us?"

He swept a hand toward the street.

"We're the ones who built this place up. We kept the customers coming back. We earned our own reputations. Why do they get to sit back and take so much just because of a piece of paper?"

I stared at the ledger as he tapped it against the table.

"Marla. Is this what you want?"

Her lips had gone pale. She didn't answer.

"Of course it is," Wade said. "She's just too nice to say it. You saw that and took advantage. Hundreds of thousands over ten years."

I could no longer keep my anger in check.

"Every tenant read that lease, Wade. Every page. Every page was signed. The law firm and the notary both have copies on file. You got below-market rent, concessions for the first three years, and roads, utilities, and sewer infrastructure funded up front. In return, you agreed to pay a percentage of your revenue once you opened. It wasn't a trap. It wasn't extortion. The terms were there in black and white."

He folded his arms.

"So what? Something we signed ten years ago is supposed to control us forever?"

"The lease term is clearly stated."

He scoffed. "Then you set us up from the start. Got everyone to sign when they were broke. Now the street's worth something, and you sit back and collect. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Callie?"

Marla looked increasingly distressed. Still, she didn't correct him.

I looked toward the door.

Ray Kowalski, who ran the barbecue restaurant, avoided my eyes.

Frank Boyle, from the hardware store, looked down and rubbed his hands together.

Otis Grady, who owned the fried chicken stand, frowned but said nothing.

They knew who had paved the potholed road that used to flood ankle-deep every time it rained.

They knew who had called in a crew in the middle of a storm to clear the drains and replace the street's wiring.

And they knew who had organized event after event and offered rent reduction after rent reduction when the street first opened and hardly anyone came. Who had kept their businesses afloat until they could stand on their own.

Now they chose silence.

Wade took it as encouragement.

"See? They all agree. They're just scared to say it."

"Since when do you speak for them?" I asked coldly.

He walked toward the door.

"Fine. Let them speak for themselves. Ray. How much does your place bring in every day? Would that money you hand over each year buy you a new freezer?"

Ray muttered, "We could... take another look at the arrangement."

Wade tipped his chin toward Frank.

"Your son's buying a house, right? Wouldn't that money be better off in your pocket?"

Frank cleared his throat. "A contract's a contract. But business has changed. We're all under pressure."

Wade turned to Otis.

"At your age, making a living isn't easy. Why should you give part of it to someone else?"

Otis hesitated.

I watched him.

When his roof had leaked and he couldn't find anyone to repair it, he'd nearly closed the shop. I'd sent a crew the next day to replace the entire roof. He hadn't paid a cent.

He met my eyes. His fingers curled inward.

At last, he sighed.

"Callie, Wade's not saying it nicely, but he isn't wrong. It's been hard. Especially these last two years. Could we renegotiate the percentage?"

That was all the others needed.

"There's nothing wrong with renegotiating."

"We're the ones keeping this street going."

"We can't live by that old contract forever."

"We haven't forgotten your help. But we have to think about the future."

As I looked at their familiar faces, my anger slowly subsided.

"How much lower do you want it?"

No one answered.

Wade answered for them.

"Not lower. Gone."

Marla swung toward him. "Wade, don't!"

"What? It's true. As long as we let this arrangement continue, she'll keep taking her cut. We either put an end to it today or keep giving in, year after year."

He turned back to me.

"Starting this year, we're not paying."

"The contract is clear," I said. "That isn't your decision."

He gave me a nasty smile.

"Then let everyone decide. If you agree we should stop paying, step forward. Anyone who keeps quiet today doesn't get to complain later."