Chapter 109: Finding Dollars
Ricky was just locking his lower desk drawer—where he had stashed his vehicle blueprints and the draft manuscripts—when the office door swung open.
Marek stepped inside, taking off his newsboy cap. "Is it time already?" Ricky asked, looking up.
"Yeah," Marek said, resting a hand against the doorframe. "Sir George asked me to come fetch you."
Ricky stacked the four thick automotive books neatly on the corner of his desk, slid his leather notebook into his shoulder bag, and stood up. As he slung the bag over his shoulder, Marek’s eyes caught a folder peeking out from between the notebook’s pages—rough graphite sketches detailing cylinder heads, gear shafts, and chassis layouts.
"What’s that?" Marek asked, pointing.
Ricky smiled, pulling the sketches out and handing them over without a word.
Marek squinted at the technical lines and annotations written in the margins. "Are you... making your own automobile? I thought you just bought those four heavy trucks from Mack."
"I did," Ricky said, rounding his desk. "But I also want to build my own based on what I know."
Marek looked up, his brow furrowed as he handed the papers back. "Since when do you know anything about engineering?"
"About six hours ago," Ricky replied casually, sliding the sketches back into his bag.
Marek stared at him for a second, then let out a sharp chuckle. "Nice joke."
Ricky just shrugged, walking past him.
Marek’s smile slowly faded as he turned to follow. "Wait... you’re serious?"
"Have I ever joked about a business venture?" Ricky asked, locking the office door behind them as they stepped past Evelyn’s typing desk.
"Ricky, this is a big deal," Marek said, lowering his voice as they walked down the stairs toward the front exit. "How are you going to build one? I mean, what’s the plan?"
"I’m off to talk business with your future grandfather-in-law," Ricky said smoothly. "I’m going to convince him to invest in my new venture, but first I need a working prototype. I’ll commission local foundries and machine shops to cast and build each individual part, then assemble them here with a few hired mechanics."
Marek’s eyes brightened. "Are you going to compete with the big auto companies?"
"No, mostly I’ll use them for our own delivery fleet, or maybe sell a few on the side," Ricky said. "Who knows what happens in the future?"
Marek handed back the last of the sketches as they reached the ground floor. "Hmm... Sir George owns a massive logistics company spanning Chicago, Wisconsin, Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio. Maybe he’ll find it interesting."
"Then what’s he doing all the way out in New York?" Ricky asked.
"Establishing his logistics lines here, alongside his underworld business. Maybe that’s also why he wants to talk to you." Marek explained. "It’s no understatement why he’s watching us."
Ricky smirked. "Let him look all he wants. Don Martinez is watching us too. I’d prefer it if nobody was, but our economic rise these past few weeks makes that impossible. We went from small-time smugglers to legitimate operators with a real foothold in Greenwich and parts of Midtown."
He adjusted his bag strap as they pushed open the front glass doors. "Now with Barney getting paranoid, I’ve got to establish our presence in SoHo, NoHo, and Nolita—potentially the Bowery, maybe even Chinatown if the Five Points crews don’t mind."
They stepped onto the curb where a sleek black Rolls-Royce was idling. A driver in a crisp uniform stepped out and opened the rear door.
Ricky stopped, looking at the car and then at Marek. "When you said you’d come fetch me, I didn’t expect we’d be driving in this."
Marek climbed inside, letting out a heavy sigh. "Yeah... my fiancées requested it. Ever since they found out I officially own a business, they want me to look the part and also they suddenly want to have their own businesses too. It’s getting too hassle, if I’m being honest with you."
Ricky grinned, getting in beside him. "I don’t envy you as a husband, Marek."
"People think I’m the luckiest guy alive," Marek muttered, leaning back against the leather seat. "But managing three wives who constantly fight each other is draining."
"Yeah, tell me about draining," Ricky teased.
Marek flushed slightly, catching his drift. "Ah... stop. I don’t even want to think about it."
"Wait till you have children running around from three different wives at the same time, man," Ricky chuckled as the car pulled smoothly onto Hudson Street.
Marek closed his eyes, looking utterly stressed.
The motorcar eventually glided into Carnegie Hill, turning into the cobblestone driveway of the Callahan mansion.
The driver brought the car to a stop along the curb, stepping around to open the door. Ricky and Marek got off, smoothing down their coats.
As soon as they crossed the threshold into the grand foyer, Marek was intercepted by the three Callahan sisters. Emma, Kristen, and Elsa moved in as a unit, clinging to his arms and holding his hands.
Their eyes quickly shifted over to Ricky, eyeing him with sharp interest.
Ricky offered a polite, formal greeting. "Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Richard Stevenson."
As they walked down the wide hallway toward the parlor, Emma fell into step beside him. "What kind of business do you run, Mr. Stevenson?"
"We supply small shop owners in Greenwich and Midtown," Ricky explained calmly. "We handle direct deliveries right to their doors, along with wholesale operations for interstate clients."
Kristen, ever the blunt one, glanced at him sharply. "Is it true that you’re the actual owner of the business our fiancé is managing?"
Marek froze, taken completely off guard by the sudden question.
Ricky remained unfazed. "Marek is technically the owner, holding twenty percent equity in the company. I hold eighty percent, along with full voting power."
Marek let out a quiet sigh of relief as Ricky handled it without hesitation.
Kristen smirked slightly. "Interesting. You’re a smart man."
Elsa tilted her head, watching him closely. "How did your company grow so fast over these past few weeks?"
"We created a service model normal suppliers don’t use," Ricky said. "Where most suppliers set large minimum order limits and charge delivery fees, we have no minimums and deliver for free, either the same day or the next morning. Our roving agents also conduct inventory checks on every visit so the owners never run dry."
Elsa frowned slightly. "Isn’t that far too much hassle?"
"Yes, but it’s worth it," Ricky replied. "It gives us complete market control over Greenwich, as well as major shops and saloons in Midtown. The owners become dependent on our convenience and find other suppliers too frustrating to deal with."
Emma looked impressed. "Amazing. Complete market dominance in such a short time."
"I wouldn’t say that just yet," Ricky said. "I expect a strong pushback soon from the older companies we blew out of the water."
A butler appeared at the end of the corridor, bowing respectfully. "Sir George is waiting for you in the study."
Emma immediately turned to her sisters. "We shouldn’t keep Grandpa’s guest occupied any longer." She offered Ricky a warm smile as she released Marek’s hand. "Good luck in there, Mr. Stevenson."