I tilted my head. "Compensation? You mean the thousands in fines you owe the county, or the part where your HOA tried to bury evidence?"
Her mask cracked. "You don't have proof of that!"
"Oh, don't worry," I said. "I'm not the one you'll need to convince."
Then I tipped my hat and left. As I walked away, I could feel her glare burning through my back like sunlight through glass. That was fine; she could glare all she wanted. I was already planning the next step.
That night, I sat on my porch with my laptop, the screen glowing against the dark. Mark Reynolds called right on cue.
"You poked the hornet's nest," he said with a chuckle.
"Good," I replied. "Now they'll show where the honey's hidden."
Mark laughed. "You're enjoying this too much."
"After what they did? Not enough."
He told me the county's fines had hit the HOA hard: nearly $10,000 in penalties, not counting legal fees. And because Sarah had authorized the landscaping improvements, she was personally liable. But knowing Sarah, she'd try to twist her way out of it.
And that's exactly what she did. Two days later, a letter arrived in my mailbox with the HOA seal printed on it. It read:
"Dear Mr. Flores, after careful consideration, Crescent Meadows HOA has decided to pursue civil mediation to address the alleged water diversion issue. We believe cooperation will serve both parties. Sincerely, Sarah Murphy, HOA President."
I read it twice and laughed out loud. Cooperation. That word coming from Sarah was like hearing a cat promise to share its dinner. I wasn't interested in mediation; I wanted exposure—the kind you can't PR-spin away.
So, I started talking to Daniel Brooks, the struggling owner of Clearstream Utilities. We'd met before, years back, when he came to inspect my meter. He remembered me, and remembered how much trouble the HOA gave his company over special requests and unpaid invoices. When I mentioned that I was interested in investing, his eyes lit up.
"José, you serious? We've been looking for partners to keep this place afloat."
"I'm not just serious," I said. "I want control."
He hesitated. "Control? You mean—"