Chapter 2 Reyes & Associates
The car that arrived outside Alex’s building the next morning was not, technically, a limousine.
It might as well have been.
It looked completely out of place parked between a rusted Civic and a dumpster overflowing with a neighbor’s furniture.
Alex stood on the curb in the only suit he owned. The same one he’d worn to his mother’s funeral. It still smelled faintly of the dry cleaner’s plastic.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, he was genuinely nervous.
“Mr. Tailor?”
The driver held the door open without meeting his eyes. He had the particular skill of someone paid to be invisible.
“Mr. Reyes is expecting you.”
Alex nodded and got in.
The offices of Reyes & Associates occupied the entire forty-first floor of a glass tower on Park Avenue.
Alex had only ever seen buildings like this from the window of a bus. He used to wonder what happened up there among all the glass, clouds, and money.
The receptionist knew his name before he introduced himself.
That was what finally made his stomach drop.
Simon Reyes turned out to be a compact, silver-haired man somewhere in his sixties. He dressed simply, but everything about him looked expensive. He had the calm confidence of someone who had long ago stopped needing to prove he could afford better.
His handshake was firm and brief.
Alex couldn’t read him at all.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Tailor. Please, sit.”
Alex sat.
The office was surprisingly plain. There were no awards covering the walls or photographs of Reyes shaking hands with important people.
Just one framed photograph on the credenza.
It showed a stern, silver-eyed older man shaking hands with a head of state Alex didn’t immediately recognize.
He would come to know that face very well in the months ahead.
Right now, it meant nothing.
“I’m going to tell you something that will sound absurd,” Reyes said, folding his hands on the desk. “I need you to let me finish before you respond. I promise you, every question you’re about to ask will be answered. Interrupting will only slow us down.”
“Okay.”
It was the only word Alex could think of.
“Julian Voss died six weeks ago. You may not recognize the name, but I assure you, the rest of the world does. Forbes has called him the wealthiest private individual on the planet for the last eleven consecutive years.”
Alex stared at him.
“Voss Global has holdings in energy, shipping, pharmaceuticals, and media across six continents. Three weeks ago, his will was formally entered into probate.”
Reyes paused.
He watched Alex carefully.
“You are named in that will, Mr. Tailor.”
Alex frowned.
“Not as a minor beneficiary.”
Another pause.
“You are the primary heir to the entire Voss estate.”
Alex laughed.
He couldn’t help it.
It was a short, disbelieving sound that felt completely wrong in an office forty-one floors above the city.
“I’ve never heard of this man in my life,” Alex said. “I work in a warehouse in Ohio. I’ve never even been to New York before yesterday.”
He shook his head.
“This is…..”
He looked at Reyes.
“I don’t know what this is, but it isn’t real.”
“It is very real.”
Reyes didn’t seem bothered by his reaction.
He slid a thick folder across the desk.
“That’s a certified copy of the relevant portion of the will. I would strongly encourage you to have your own attorney review it.”
Alex stared at the folder.
“I don’t have an attorney.”
“I assumed as much.”
There was no judgment in Reyes’s voice.
“I thought it would be better to explain this to you personally rather than mail a letter to Ohio and have it sit unopened on your kitchen counter for a week.”
Alex almost smiled
He didn’t touch the folder.
“Why me?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why me?” Alex repeated. “I don’t know this family. I’ve never worked for Voss Global. I’ve never met this man.”
He pushed the folder slightly away.
“There has to be a mistake. Maybe there’s someone else named Tailor.”
“There is no mistake.”
Reyes’s voice was flat and certain
“Julian Voss selected you specifically. By name. He revised his will during the final year of his life and left detailed instructions regarding the conditions of your inheritance.”
Alex’s eyebrows pulled together.
“Conditions?”
“Yes.”
For the first time, Reyes almost smiled.
It was small and practiced. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You are not simply being given a fortune, Mr. Tailor.”
He leaned back slightly.
“You are being given the opportunity to earn one.”
Alex stared at him.
“Under terms Mr. Voss believed would prove whether you were equal to it.”
Reyes folded his hands again.
“I’d advise you to take a breath. What I’m about to explain will probably be the strangest thing anyone has ever asked of you.”
Alex thought about the eleven hundred and forty dollars still owed to Sacred Heart.
He thought about Ruiz waving the Simmons manifest at him.
He thought about six years of a broken forklift beeper he had trained himself not to hear.
Then he reached for the folder.
“All right,” he said.
He opened it.
“I’m listening.”
