Chapter Four
Alyson
I watched Blake Davenport walk away for the second time today. Everything about him was cool and certain. While I was turning into a puddle in the Texas heat, he looked unfazed in his crisp white shirt. I tried to ignore how he smelled when he passed by. Even his cologne was like confidence in a bottle.
My quick online search had brought up several business profile articles on the young developer. I skimmed them quickly over lunch while keeping an eye on his meeting with Commissioner Gonzalez.
He was named one of the top young entrepreneurs. Economists predicted his net worth would exceed a billion dollars by the time he hit his thirtieth birthday if he continued to acquire deals at his current rate.
His company, The Davenport Corporation, was the fastest-growing land investment company in Texas. I kicked myself for not knowing who he was. It was only another piece of evidence that I was reporting in the wrong field.
He bought and sold properties all over the country. He didn’t seem particular whether he acquired an abandoned school or an urban sky scraper. He was in the business of making money.
His headshot was the same in each article. He wore a tailored suit, a smile most models would pay for, and a look in his eyes that said he was on his way to conquering the world.
I didn’t have much to go on, but I knew he was involved in the development deal. I could sense it. The problem was I only had four hours until my deadline and had nothing to add to my story.
I walked into the parking lot not sure where I was going to find more for this story. Ever since I took the News & Report job I felt as if I were constantly trying to play keep up.
It had been three months since I moved here, but I still didn’t know anyone and I wasn’t the savvy business reporter I had presented myself as. Christine knew it, but she hadn’t publicly called me out on it. She was giving me a chance to prove myself. At least I had convinced myself that was the case.
Today could be my last day. I needed to produce an article.
I leaned my makeshift bun against the headrest. The wind had whipped apart every hairstyle I tried today. Blake probably thought I was a disheveled mess. I doubted it would make a difference. He wasn’t going to answer my questions.
The thoughts had been there since I met Bridget and Jennilee this morning. The ones that crept into the back of my eyes, burning images like a movie playing on a screen I couldn’t stop watching. I wished I could pick up the phone and call Kendal. She would tell me something that would make me laugh. Instead I was sitting in a hot as hell car with no clue where my sister and niece were.
I turned up the radio to block out the memories. The country music in Texas was starting to grow on me. It had a different sound. Sometimes I felt as if the guys singing were sitting next to me.
The air conditioner was blowing at the highest fan speed. God, what was I doing here?
I noticed Commissioner Gonzalez was on his phone. His face red from the heat. City Hall would have to be my next stop. All of the development applications would pass through there first. I hoped whichever company won the land bid at the private auction would be anxious to start the development paperwork.
I pointed my car toward City Hall, and parked near the entrance.
I raced up the front steps after looking at my watch. Most of the City Hall staff would still be at lunch.
I retrieved my press pass. “Hi, I’m Alyson Covington with the News & Report. I was wondering if any applications are in for the Conch Cove development.”
The woman behind the reception desk pulled the glasses from her nose. “That’s in the development office. Down the hall on the right.”
“Thank you.” I hurried to the office a few doors down.
I was met by a guy who looked as if he were my age, maybe younger. They apparently staffed City Hall with college interns for the summer. He was typing on his phone.
“Excuse me?” I spoke up for attention.
I startled him. “Oh, hey. Yeah.”
“I’m Alyson Covington with the News & Report.” I showed him my press badge. “Have any applications been submitted for the Conch Cove project?”
He stared at me blankly.
“Don’t the applications come through this office?” I asked impatiently.
“I guess so. I don’t know. They hand me stuff and then I file it.” He shrugged.
I realized I had stumbled upon an unusual opportunity. The development office was empty except for this inexperienced intern.
“Oh, that’s cool. I guess they give you a lot of responsibility.” It was a weak compliment.
He straightened his back slightly. I noticed his polo shirt was wrinkled from his chest to his waist. This kid didn’t take much seriously.
“Yeah, it’s an important gig.”
I peeked over the front of his desk. “Would you mind checking for me then on the applications? It would be really great if you could help me out.”
His desk was littered with stacks of folders and paper. I didn’t know if he could find anything there.
He lifted a manila packet on top. “This one just came in.” He handed it to me.
I peeled back the seal. It was all here. The Davenport Corporation had a completed application to develop Conch Cove. I read through the description of the proposed project. They wanted to build a resort. Impressive.
I pulled my phone out to take a few pictures of the pages so I could read through the details later.
“What’s this for?” the intern asked.
I tucked the papers inside the envelope and placed it back on his desk. “A business article I’m writing.”
“Cool.” He bobbed his head. “I’m Doug.”
“Thanks for your help, Doug.” Finally, I had a story to break for Christine.
The intern reached on the floor and revealed five more packets just like the one I had read. “These came in first, though.”
Shit. So much for the scoop on who had won the auction. Apparently, they all had their proposals submitted in case they won. Or at least they were all as confident as Blake Davenport that they would outbid the other.
I shuffled through each package, jotting down the relevant information on my pad. I knew most of the names, and there were two I assumed were shell companies. No surprises or breaking news here.
I meekly handed back the last envelop. “Any more?”
“Nah. That’s all I have.”
“Well, thanks again.” I turned to leave, but stopped at the door. “If anything else comes in will you give me a call or text me?” I flipped one of my business cards on his desk.
“Like what?” He turned it over between his fingers.
“I don’t know. If you see something interesting. Another application for the Conch Cove land. Just anything. Ok?”
He smiled. “Sure. And now I’ve got your number.”
I sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”
He rocked back in his chair, and for a second I thought he might bounce onto the floor.
“Gotcha covered, girl.”
“Awesome. Thanks.” I darted out of the office before he misinterpreted everything else I said. He may not be a reliable source, but if another application came in today there was a good chance he would let me know, assuming he could identify what he was reading.
I had another stop I wanted to make before I started writing my article. I checked the directory in the lobby and found Commissioner Fernandez’s office. She was a known environmentalist.
I tapped on the door. She was hunched over a map in the corner of her office.
“Come on in.” She didn’t look up.
“Commissioner, we met at the last council meeting. I’m Alyson Covington.”
She stood upright and turned to smile. “Nice to see you again. What can I do for you?”
“I’m here reporting on the Conch Cove development. I was wondering what the council’s position is on developing that end of the island. Would you like to make a statement?”
There was a pen lodged above her ear. “I wasn’t aware there were any applications.”
“The Davenport Corporation submitted one for a resort and—”
“A resort?”
I nodded. “Yes. What is your stance on a resort at that end of the island?” I would go through the list of proposals. There was a golf course and an amusement park in the stack too.
“I’m afraid I need to pull together some information before I make any kind of statement on that tract of land.”
“But, how would you vote for the resort?”
“Excuse me.” She hustled past me in the small space and opened the top drawer on her desk. “I need to work.” It sounded as if she was whispering to herself.
“Would you like to comment on the zoning issues?” I asked. I needed a quote. Something. Anything. I couldn’t write a story on six applications that hadn’t even crossed over the intern’s desk yet.
“I will release a statement after I have had a chance to review the information. I work within the confines of facts. I need facts.”
Did she realize she was speaking to a journalist? I placed my card on the corner of her desk. “Here is my contact information.”
“You will receive a copy along with the rest of the press. I don’t play favorites, Miss Covington.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that, Commissioner.” Great, I had offended her. I debated slipping the card off the desk and into my bag. “Thank you for your time.”
I ducked out of her office while she frantically worked on the tip I had given her.
I was spinning my wheels. Nothing panned out. I made a few calls from my car to the companies who had submitted applications. No one would comment on whether they had won the auction.
It was three o’clock. With only two hours until deadline I was screwed.