Chapter 2: The Sterling Proposal

# The Bimbo of MAGA Mall

## Chapter 2: The Sterling Proposal

The screaming influencer's name was Crystal Couture.

Amber knew this because Crystal introduced herself seventeen times in the first three minutes.

"Do you know who I am?" Crystal demanded.

"Yes," Amber replied.

"You do?"

"You've told everyone within fifty feet."

The crowd laughed.

Crystal did not.

She pointed dramatically toward a smoothie stand.

"This establishment has ruined my brand."

The teenage employee behind the counter looked terrified.

Amber approached calmly.

"What happened?"

Crystal thrust a cup forward.

"The drink is the wrong shade of pink."

Silence.

Even the mall seemed uncertain how to respond.

"The wrong shade?" Amber asked.

"Yes."

Amber examined the smoothie.

It looked pink.

Possibly very pink.

Perhaps aggressively pink.

But definitely pink.

"And because of this..."

Crystal pointed toward several cameras.

"My livestream audience has witnessed a catastrophe."

Amber nodded thoughtfully.

Then she looked at the employee.

"What color did she order?"

"Rose Quartz Pink."

Amber looked at the cup.

Then at the menu.

Then back at the cup.

"This is Rose Quartz Pink."

The employee nearly cried with relief.

Crystal blinked.

"No it isn't."

Amber pointed toward the menu board.

A large photo displayed the drink.

It matched perfectly.

The influencer stared.

The crowd stared.

Reality stared.

Finally Crystal lowered the cup.

"Oh."

The crowd erupted in laughter.

Amber smiled.

"Crisis resolved."

Within minutes the audience dispersed.

The employee thanked Amber repeatedly.

Crystal apologized.

Sort of.

And the mall returned to normal.

Or at least as normal as MAGA Mall ever became.

By late afternoon Amber finally returned home.

Her house stood several miles outside town.

Unlike the glamorous image people imagined, it was surprisingly practical.

Comfortable furniture.

A large library.

A kitchen full of coffee equipment.

Shelves overflowing with manuals, business books, engineering guides, and historical biographies.

The room most visitors expected least was the workshop.

Half garage.

Half laboratory.

Amber loved solving problems.

Machines fascinated her.

Systems fascinated her.

Anything with moving parts fascinated her.

She changed clothes, brewed coffee, and reviewed information about Victor Sterling.

The deeper she searched, the more curious the situation became.

Victor owned investment companies.

Real estate firms.

Technology ventures.

Entertainment properties.

He possessed enormous wealth.

And a reputation for acquiring businesses.

Lots of businesses.

Very quickly.

Amber leaned back.

That wasn't necessarily suspicious.

But it was worth remembering.

Her phone buzzed.

A text message from Greg.

HOW BAD IS HE?

Amber smiled.

Apparently Greg had performed his own research.

She replied.

NOT SURE YET.

THAT MAKES ME NERVOUS.

ME TOO.

The response arrived instantly.

THAT MAKES ME MORE NERVOUS.

Amber laughed.

Then she checked the time.

6:12 PM.

The meeting approached.

The sky outside glowed orange as sunset painted long shadows across the landscape.

A few minutes later she left.

The Sterling Hotel dominated downtown.

Glass.

Steel.

Luxury.

The building looked less like a hotel and more like a corporation that had become a skyscraper.

Valets guided expensive vehicles toward the entrance.

Water features sparkled beneath decorative lights.

Everything seemed polished.

Too polished.

Amber entered the lobby.

Marble floors reflected golden lighting.

A pianist performed near the central lounge.

Guests spoke quietly.

Nobody screamed about smoothie colors.

A refreshing change.

A hostess approached.

"Miss Blaze?"

"That's me."

"Mr. Sterling is expecting you."

Of course he was.

Amber followed her toward a private dining suite overlooking the city.

The hostess opened the door.

Victor Sterling stood beside the window.

He appeared exactly as Amber expected.

Expensive suit.

Perfect posture.

Carefully controlled smile.

The kind of man who probably considered spontaneity a scheduling error.

"Miss Blaze."

"Mr. Sterling."

They shook hands.

His grip felt practiced.

Everything about him felt practiced.

"Thank you for coming."

"Curiosity is dangerous."

Victor smiled.

"That's one reason successful people possess it."

They sat.

Dinner arrived.

Conversation began.

For nearly thirty minutes Victor discussed business.

Markets.

Development.

Economic trends.

Growth opportunities.

Amber listened carefully.

Most people enjoyed talking.

Victor enjoyed performing.

There was a difference.

Eventually she interrupted.

"You didn't invite me here to discuss quarterly projections."

Victor paused.

The smile returned.

Smaller this time.

"Direct."

"Efficient."

"I appreciate efficiency."

Amber waited.

Victor folded his hands.

Then finally arrived at the real topic.

"MAGA Mall."

There it was.

The shark had entered the swimming pool.

"What about it?"

"I want to buy it."

Amber remained perfectly still.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

"Why?"

Victor gazed across the city lights.

"Potential."

"Meaning?"

"It's underdeveloped."

Amber nearly laughed.

The mall generated enormous revenue.

Occupancy rates were strong.

Customer traffic remained healthy.

Calling it underdeveloped felt like calling a mountain slightly elevated.

"What exactly would you change?"

Victor stood.

He walked toward the window.

Then delivered what sounded suspiciously like a presentation rehearsed hundreds of times.

Luxury redevelopment.

Corporate partnerships.

Property restructuring.

Premium branding.

Executive modernization.

The words flowed endlessly.

Amber translated them mentally.

Higher rents.

Fewer local businesses.

More chain stores.

More corporate control.

Less personality.

Less community.

Less soul.

When Victor finished speaking, she asked one question.

"What happens to the small businesses?"

Victor hesitated.

Only briefly.

But Amber noticed.

"They'll adapt."

Wrong answer.

Amber leaned back.

The room suddenly felt colder.

Not physically.

Strategically.

Victor wasn't interested in the mall.

He was interested in transforming it into something else.

Something cleaner.

Something more profitable.

Something less human.

Victor returned to his seat.

"You have influence there."

Amber remained silent.

"You understand the operation."

Still silent.

"I would value your support."

Finally she spoke.

"Why?"

The question surprised him.

Because it wasn't the answer he expected.

Victor paused.

Amber waited.

Then she asked again.

"Why me?"

He smiled.

"Because people trust you."

At last.

An honest answer.

Maybe the first one all evening.

Amber nodded slowly.

People did trust her.

Employees trusted her.

Customers trusted her.

Managers trusted her.

And Victor wanted access to that trust.

The realization settled into place like a puzzle piece.

The meeting continued another hour.

Polite conversation.

Careful questions.

Careful answers.

Neither revealed everything.

Both learned enough.

Eventually Amber stood.

"I should go."

Victor rose as well.

"Will you consider my proposal?"

Amber smiled.

"I'll consider everything."

That answer seemed to satisfy him.

For now.

Outside, the night air felt refreshing.

The city glittered beneath a sky full of stars.

Amber walked toward her car.

Halfway there she stopped.

Something caught her attention.

Across the street stood a familiar face.

One of the contractors connected to the eagle repairs.

The same contractor whose company had used inferior materials.

He emerged from the hotel.

And Victor Sterling was right behind him.

They shook hands.

The contractor handed over a folder.

Victor accepted it.

Then both men departed in separate directions.

Amber remained motionless.

The pieces of the puzzle shifted.

Not enough to reveal the full picture.

But enough to reveal something important.

The contractor.

The eagle repairs.

Victor Sterling.

They were connected.

How?

She didn't know.

Yet.

But her instincts had learned an important lesson years ago.

Coincidences existed.

Patterns existed too.

And this felt very much like a pattern.

Amber climbed into her car.

The engine started.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Greg appeared.

HOW DID IT GO?

Amber typed a response.

I THINK WE HAVE A PROBLEM.

Three dots appeared instantly.

HOW BIG?

Amber looked toward the hotel one last time.

Then she sent her answer.

BIG ENOUGH TO HAVE ITS OWN ZIP CODE.

And somewhere high above the city, inside the glittering tower of the Sterling Hotel, Victor Sterling stood beside the window and smiled.

The game had begun.