Page 29 of Hotshot Mogul

“I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

He stood at the podium as I resumed my seat next to Callie and Rufus. The mayor slammed down her hammer. “This meeting is back in session. First item on the agenda is the rezoning requested on Parcel Ten Fifty-Four for the proposed Phase Two of Oakview Meadows.”

“I’m speaking for Clynes Development,” Bruce said.

“Please state who you are for the record,” the mayor said. Her gaze then slid to me. Why?

Callie squeezed my hand.

Bruce glanced at me. He held his jaw tight. “Bruce Clynes of Clynes Development, Madame Mayor.”

I was confused. His name was the same as the company?

“Job title?” the mayor asked.

Bruce’s gaze slid to me again. “Owner and operator.”

Bruce was the owner? He made the decisions for the company? He’d helped me with the petitions. He’d let me think he wasn’t in charge. And Callie, judging from her concerned look, had known all along.

Pictures of houses, buildings, a park, restaurants and healing places flashed on the screen. Then came a picture of my tree and my sister oaks. I gasped, feeling exposed.

Rufus patted my shoulder. “Easy,” he said. “We can fight this.”

Bruce looked at me, made a fist and held it over his heart. “These trees are dying, according to the arborist I hired.” A new picture showed children playing on a wooden structure. “We harvested this wood from a dying tree for the first section of this development.”

I couldn’t follow the rest of his words. To him, trees–my beloved body and home—were merely something to be harvested. I felt cold as winter rain in my human body. All these feelings—I wanted to be finished with my human body, switch them off. I was done. I didn’t care why Bruce had concealed his full identity from me, or why he’d tried to distract me with his kisses and sand dunes and dates. He had no memory as my beloved and cherished mate. There was no point trying to make him remember. Not now. He was like Étienne in this life, only out for himself.

“Thank you, Bruce,” the mayor said. She smiled warmly. “We’ll open the public hearing. First to speak is Anneliese Forrester.”

I couldn’t resist. I stared into Bruce’s deep blue eyes as I made my way to the podium. He met my gaze and blanched, clearly shocked at what he saw on the mask that was my face. Did he see hatred, betrayal, dismissal? Most likely, it was hurt.

I squeezed my hand into a fist. “The pine trees,” I said, “may not be saved, but the oak tree can.” I sounded more confident than I felt. “It has stood for over four hundred years.” Gasps sounded through the room. “This development could easily be…” Deer turds. What word did I want?

Bruce began scribbling onto lined yellow paper. He held it up to me. Redesigned was written in large letters. Why? I didn’t trust him anymore. Did he think I still believed he wanted to help me? He was my enemy. I would not forget that.

“Done differently so as not to kill the tree,” I finished.

He looked sad. I was cold to the bone. “Please deny this request as it has been put to you. Do not reward greed at the expense of the natural world. What will be left if we do?”

Applause rang out as I took my seat. Bam. The mayor slammed down her hammer. “Order. Those who do not refrain from applause or booing will be told to leave.”

Callie went to the podium and spoke next. “Why was the previous classification of this glade as an environmentally protected area changed? Was someone paid off?” She glared at Bruce as she sat down. Murmurs sounded.

Rufus spoke about his experience with trees and how he could try to save the oak. “This will take time and money, but it’s arguably worth it.” He only stopped talking when the timer dinged.

The older women Bruce and I had met at the sand dunes spoke next. “I want to live in this development, and so do my friends,” the first woman said.

“It would bring more business and jobs to the area,” the next woman said.

A woman named Beth went next. She smiled and winked at Bruce before she took the podium. “The first person who spoke tonight, this Anna Forrester—if that’s her real name—who gathered signatures on the petition, is not a U.S. citizen. Why does an outsider care about Oakdale? Who is paying her? Do we want outsiders setting our policies?”

Over the next hour, fifteen more people spoke. The man to whom I’d turned in the petitions spoke last. “There are over one hundred valid signatures on the petition, which asks that the trees not be removed. Due to the number of signatures, the commission must pass this by a minimum of five votes.”

“Thank you, City Clerk Karlson,” the mayor said. “I will close the public hearing.” Bam—her hammer slammed a final time.

The artificial cold air blasted. Still, sweat trickled down my backbone. My dress stuck to my skin. Beth had painted me as an outsider to Oakdale. She was right. But Callie and Rufus said they were lifelong residents. Surely, they were respected.

“Will someone make a motion to consider or deny this request?” the mayor asked. The bald man on the end, whose mustache curled up, said: “Motion to approve the request as stated.”

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