Your New Partner

You rush to get dressed and head downstairs through your elevator. Once the doors open, the information Ingrid just told you turns out to be far worse than she knew.

Sitting back in your chair, with his feet placed on your desk, is Jason Robertson, the supposed bastard son of the late Mr. Edwards. He sees you and smugly smiles as he stretches his arms out and clasps his hands behind his head. Standing next to him is Mr. Edwards' lawyer, Walter Abrams.

"Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence." Jason sarcastically greets. "It's only been over a month."

"Walter." You nod to the lawyer.

"Good to see you William." He nods back.

Jason sits up. "What? No hello to little ol' me?"

"What can I do for you Mr. Robertson?" You say coldly.

"Brr." He smiles while pretending to shiver. "I'm just messing with you William. But to answer your question, yes, there is something you can do for me."

"Look Mr. Robertson, I'm not really in the mood to play games today. The answer is still an emphatic 'NO' in regards to me selling or giving you the club. Now if you would so kindly leave my office and allow me to work in peace."

"I'm afraid that just won't happen William." Jason arrogantly smiles. "Tell him why Walter."

Walter uncomfortably shifts as his eyes dart from Jason to you.

"Ahem." He clears his throat. "Uh, William, have you had an opportunity to review the documents I sent to you?"

You shake your head 'no'.

"Oh." He looks surprised and disappointed. "Uh, okay. Well, that's not important right now. William, as you know when Mr. Edwards transferred ownership to you, he sent you 80% of the business. He kept 20% as his, quote/unquote, 'retirement package'."

"He did." You nod in acknowledgement. "And upon his passing, I would receive the remaining 20% to complete the transaction."

"Correct." Walter confirms though he returns to looking uneasy. "That was the agreement at the time."

Your eyes narrow as you notice Walter's choice of words. "What is going on Walter?"

"Well, you see William, that was the plan up until about three months ago." Walter places his briefcase onto your desk. He quickly opens it and grabs a a plastic bag holding what appears to be a cocktail napkin. He reluctantly hands you the bag.

You grasp it, raising an eyebrow at Walter. You look upon it and you can't believe what you're looking at.

"Is this a joke Walter?" You ask.

"I'm afraid not." Jason interrupts. Walter looks to the ground.

You look at the note once more, the words on it imprinting on your brain.

I, Harold Oliver Edwards, of sound body and mind, have chosen to renounce the previous arrangement in regards to the ownership of my music venue, Carpe Diem. As of this writing, on April 6, 2019, I have decided to leave my remaining 20% ownership to Jason Robertson, to do with as he so chooses. Signed, Harold Oliver Edwards

Your heart sinks, your mind races.

What the hell did Mr. Edwards do?