“Oops,” Jason sneered, looking down at me as I lay in the dirt, struggling to catch my breath. “Looks like you planted yourself, old man.”
Bryce laughed loudly from the passenger seat. “Get a shot of his face! He looks like an actual corpse.”
I didn’t panic. I didn’t yell. In my younger days, a man pulling a stunt like this would have found himself stripped of everything he owned before lunch. I simply braced my hands against the gritty asphalt and slowly began to push myself up. The damp soil clung to my beard, my flannel shirt, and the deep creases of my face.
Jason reached into the breast pocket of his blazer and pulled out a crisp, folded one-hundred-dollar bill. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it out the window. It fluttered in the cold morning breeze and landed directly in the puddle of spilled coffee and wet fertilizer near my knee.
“Car wash fee,” Jason said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Crawl over there and pick it up, dirty old man. That’s probably more than you make in a week pushing mud around.”
Leo stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides, his face red with righteous anger. “Are you insane, Jason? You could have killed him! He’s an old man!”
Jason’s eyes snapped toward Leo, his expression shifting from amusement to absolute malice. “Shut your mouth, charity case. The only reason you’re breathing my air right now is because my father pays for the tax write-off this school uses to let rats like you through the gate. Take one more step, and I’ll have my dad call the Headmaster to revoke your scholarship before first period.”
Leo froze, the color draining from his face. The threat wasn’t empty. Jason had ruined students before for simply looking at him wrong.
“Leo,” I said, my voice low and steady. I rose to my feet, brushing the heavy clumps of dirt from my chest. “Stand back.”
I looked at the hundred-dollar bill sitting in the mud. Then, I lifted my gaze to meet Jason’s. I didn’t show anger. Anger was an emotion for the powerless. I looked at Jason the exact same way I used to look at a fragile, over-leveraged competitor right before I triggered a hostile takeover.
“This is school property, Mr. Sterling,” I said quietly, the gravelly weight in my tone cutting through the murmur of the gathering students. “You are responsible for the damage to the equipment.”
Jason stared at me, genuinely confused for a split second by my lack of fear, before his arrogance masked it. “Are you deaf? I just paid for it. Now get a broom and clean up my tires. Your garbage scratched my carbon fiber.”
“What on earth is going on here?” a panicked voice shouted from the edge of the lot.
Headmaster Harrison, a balding, perpetually sweating administrator in a tailored gray suit, pushed his way through the circle of students. When Harrison saw the dark blue Bugatti, the crushed wheelbarrow, and me standing covered in mud, the blood vanished from his face.
But Jason completely misread the Headmaster’s panic.
“Harrison,” Jason barked, not even using the man’s title. “Your landscaper walked right out in front of my car. I could have gotten whiplash. The old man is a liability.”
Harrison looked from Jason to me. I could see the absolute terror in the Headmaster’s eyes. Harrison was one of the only three people on the entire eastern seaboard who knew that I owned this land. He knew that one word from me could close Crestview Academy by noon.
“Mr. Sterling,” Harrison stammered, pulling at his collar. “Please, there must be a misunderstanding.”
“No misunderstanding,” Jason snapped, rolling up his window halfway. “I’m tired of looking at this filthy beggar. Fire him by lunch, Harrison. If you don’t, I’ll have my father cut his donations to this pathetic school.”
The Bugatti’s massive engine roared to life, deafening the crowd, and Jason sped off toward the VIP student parking spaces, leaving Bryce’s laughter trailing behind him.
The students slowly dispersed, whispering and looking back at me with a mix of pity and disgust. Only Leo and Headmaster Harrison remained.
Harrison stepped toward me, his hands shaking violently as he looked at the dirt covering my clothes. “Mr. Vance,” Harrison whispered, his voice cracking with sheer panic. “Arthur, please. I am so terribly sorry. The boy is reckless. I beg you, do not take this out on the academy.”
I didn’t answer Harrison immediately. I reached into my chest pocket, sliding two fingers past the damp soil, and touched the cold, heavy edge of the solid gold Vertu phone resting inside. It was a relic from a past I had sworn to bury. I pulled it out slightly, glancing down at the tiny analog screen.