Emma's Corner of the Universe, Bed-Stuy, NYC. [Thursday Afternoon]
"~Portfoilo diversification is fun for me and maybe-fun for you but mostly fun for me~" Emma sang under her breath as she worked on her tablet, curled up on her futon. The best part about starting/owning your own company? If you wanted to work from bed in your pjs, YOU COULD. "Oooo...shiny. Mine."
Had she just bought a nightclub in the area that would be District X in a few years? Yes, yes she had, and sometimes having gone to high school in the future was seriously helpful. Not everything turned out the same -- pop stars had different hits, betting on sports hadn't panned out -- but some things? Some things the universe liked to keep running in a particular way. Lately Emma had been funneling a portion of her investment profits into real estate as a side-project, and she was already seeing a few nice returns beyond improved economic stability in the areas she was investing in. "Your name will be 'eVolution,' because I think I'm funny," she informed her screen, "--and now I get to hire people to get you up and running, and get a management company for you, a few layers of investors, and have an accessibility assessment done and your guts checked for asbestos and--."
Her reverie was broken by the 'ping' of an email alert, and Emma switched over to see if it was something she could ignore for now or was a crisis from the school (which was almost ready to re-open), her office, or the Hellfire Club.
It turned out to be none of the above. The realtor she'd hired had just sent her a private listing -- this moving thing was taking forever and 3/4ths of Emma's life was already boxed up but she'd yet to find something suitable -- so she opened it out of curiosity, to see what she'd been sent this time.
She was on the phone just seconds later. "Yes. Offer them thirteen -- the place next door isn't in as good repair and that's got to pull down the value a bit, and it's Soho, not the Upper East Side for fuck's sake. Plus that basement room appears to need finishing, it's practically naked," Finishing with a discreet contractor to reconfigure that storage room/closet/facilities room to add containment for Jack, for starters, and maybe an indoor sauna, "--But I'm willing to go as high as thirty if it means we don't have to get into a bidding war. Close it and close it now, before they get any other offers."
The moment she was off the phone, Emma was sending out a series of text messages. One to Candy, asking her if she still wanted to get out of her parent's place, one to Jack, with just a link to see if he liked it as much as she hoped he would, then there was a call back from her agent -- the woman was damned efficient, Emma was going to have to hire her for other projects -- with confirmation, and then one to everyone else:
Auntie Emma is calling in her favors, children. Who wants to help her move? Take-out and booze provided, and volunteers get to play in the jacuzzi after we're done.
[OOC: NFB, open post! If you think you got the text, you totally did!]
Had she just bought a nightclub in the area that would be District X in a few years? Yes, yes she had, and sometimes having gone to high school in the future was seriously helpful. Not everything turned out the same -- pop stars had different hits, betting on sports hadn't panned out -- but some things? Some things the universe liked to keep running in a particular way. Lately Emma had been funneling a portion of her investment profits into real estate as a side-project, and she was already seeing a few nice returns beyond improved economic stability in the areas she was investing in. "Your name will be 'eVolution,' because I think I'm funny," she informed her screen, "--and now I get to hire people to get you up and running, and get a management company for you, a few layers of investors, and have an accessibility assessment done and your guts checked for asbestos and--."
Her reverie was broken by the 'ping' of an email alert, and Emma switched over to see if it was something she could ignore for now or was a crisis from the school (which was almost ready to re-open), her office, or the Hellfire Club.
It turned out to be none of the above. The realtor she'd hired had just sent her a private listing -- this moving thing was taking forever and 3/4ths of Emma's life was already boxed up but she'd yet to find something suitable -- so she opened it out of curiosity, to see what she'd been sent this time.
She was on the phone just seconds later. "Yes. Offer them thirteen -- the place next door isn't in as good repair and that's got to pull down the value a bit, and it's Soho, not the Upper East Side for fuck's sake. Plus that basement room appears to need finishing, it's practically naked," Finishing with a discreet contractor to reconfigure that storage room/closet/facilities room to add containment for Jack, for starters, and maybe an indoor sauna, "--But I'm willing to go as high as thirty if it means we don't have to get into a bidding war. Close it and close it now, before they get any other offers."
The moment she was off the phone, Emma was sending out a series of text messages. One to Candy, asking her if she still wanted to get out of her parent's place, one to Jack, with just a link to see if he liked it as much as she hoped he would, then there was a call back from her agent -- the woman was damned efficient, Emma was going to have to hire her for other projects -- with confirmation, and then one to everyone else:
Auntie Emma is calling in her favors, children. Who wants to help her move? Take-out and booze provided, and volunteers get to play in the jacuzzi after we're done.
[OOC: NFB, open post! If you think you got the text, you totally did!]