on me'."
At CANOE, Emerson orders us all fancy cocktails, then Greyson folds his hands on the table. "So. These plagiarism claims. What's the deal?"
I quirk an eyebrow at him.
"Right," he says, with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Old habits die hard."
After all, Greyson was the President before me. The role went to him after our dad died unexpectedly. But Greyson didn't enjoy it, and he stepped down several months ago to be the producer on our new Storm Media TV series, giving the title to me. He's helped me and coached me along the way, but we still aren't totally settled into our new roles. Plus, he is still the eldest.
"Forget it," I say. "We do need to talk about it."
"Don't tell me," Nolan says gloomily, already downing the last of his drink. "Another shitacular legacy of Colin Storm."
While our dad was a business and media superpower when he was alive, he was also, as we've learned since his death, an asshole. The kind of asshole who not only left the company's books in an illegal mess, but secretly diverted company funds to the Costa Rican government for priority access to film the new streaming series as well. Not to mention these plagiarism claims we're dealing with now.
"Nothing conclusive has been found yet," I say. "But what has been found suggests that the premise for the Storm TV nature series was plagiarized from Goldtree Inc."
"But is it true?" Emerson asks.
I shrug, leaning back in the booth. "Don't know. Dirk hasn't found anything. Wouldn't put it past Dad, though."
"So, what do we do?" Greyson asks, forehead creased. He has as much to lose from this case as any of us. He and Harley have killed themselves making Storm TV a success, and it's still their passion project.
Nolan leans over to give me a light punch. "Landon here left out the best part."
I glare at him. "Best part?"
He shrugs, giving his long light brown hair a derisive shake. "Alright - our best chance." He turns to the others. "Guess who the lawyer for Goldtree is?"
They give him blank stares.
"Uh... The Ronald, since he left us high and dry, and won't return our calls, and is rumored to have actually left Florida for the first time in months?" Emerson quips after a minute.
We chuckle.
"Close, but no," Nolan says. "Remember little Kyra Masterson?"
Greyson's jaw drops. "No."
"Yes," I say. "Unfortunately. I can't see why Nolan thinks this is a good thing."
Nolan's glare flicks to me, outraged. "You told me yourself that you could win her over if you wanted to."
"That was before she overhead me telling you that, then told me she hated me and that she'd rather drink bleach than go out with me again."
"Drink bleach." Emerson winces. "Ooh."
"Ooh is right," I say. "So yeah, that's not happening."
"We should just try to win the case fair and square," Greyson says. "We aren't like Dad."
Nolan takes his drink and downs it. "Nothing wrong with using every advantage available to us. Although in this case, yeah, looks like there's a grand total of none."
I roll my eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." My glance goes to the others. "Anyone else have any ideas?"
"Yeah." Nolan's all smiles. "Don't piss off Kyra. Pray and beg for mercy."
"Too late," I say. "Seriously, after overhearing our conversation, she verbally ripped me a new one. If she didn't hate me before, she most definitely does now."
"Well, at least she's hot," Nolan says blandly.
Greyson snorts. "Thank God for that. We may lose the case, and even our main source of profit right now, but at least the lawyer responsible for it is hot."
Already, her face is creeping into my mind, mad and hot, with those arched eyebrows curved into a V, lips red pouting and ready and -
"Hello? Earth to twin?" Nolan intones.
I come to, to find a waitress waiting, all eyes on me.
"Sorry," I say. "What's up?"
"Emerson is buying us pity drinks," Nolan says. "Want one?"
"Sure," I say.
At this point, the only thing we really can do is drink and hope for the best.
Although once the drinks come and I sip mine, I get another brain wave. "Why don't we look into it ourselves?"
"Isn't that what the lawyers are for?" Emerson asks, sipping at his.
"Yes, except we can't afford to pay them 24/7," I explain. "We need to be saving as much money as we can, especially with the profits of our new TV series on the line. If we look into it ourselves, however..."
"Dibs on not doing it," Nolan says.
I