"Who is
Westcity
for? hell if I know." the barrel chested, pot bellied man in the cowboy hat said before leaning forward to take a shot. afterwards he leaned back again and took a drag off the cigar. "All I care about is that there's more people coming in every year, pouring money. So we're gonna give em what they want."
The old man went on rants like this. Dylan had heard this rant before. It was one of the more popular ones. He even liked it. Not because he learned anything new, but because of the entertainment value.
"When my daddy was growing up we didn't own jack shit. Not even the land he toiled on. Rented. He had to live hand to mouth you hear? But then he was able to buy that land finally. When everybody else was going down under water." He took a drag off the cigar and grinned. Stared off into no particular place. "Yes sir! And that's the land that we building all these condos on. And that's what this city's going to become. At least for now."
The phone rang. Dylan picked up.
"Yes. Ok. I'll be right down."
"Who is it?"
"Sir. It's him."
suddenly the man straightend back up. He no longer had a smooth demeanor about him.