Emma Grace Frost (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
icecoldfrost) wrote2015-10-22 01:42 pm
icecoldfrost) wrote2015-10-22 01:42 pm
Entry tags:
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:
[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!]
no subject
And let's just call the chocolate a bonus. I'm the boss, I can say so.
Settle down, Kennedy, you're just getting this enterprise started.
no subject
no subject
Was that going to stop her from telling it over text? No.
Funny-but-not-really thing, not all of the girls who got the shiny Slayer-powers upgrade are into the whole demon-stabby, weekly-apocalypse kind of lifestyle. Catch being? Our spell didn't exactly give them a choice. It's just kinda hard to go back to being, you know, normal when you can bench press a bulldozer.
She must have stopped to hit send there and give her thumbs a brief rest, but then went on.
So, our fault, nobody else really wants to do anything about it, cue me calling up my lawyer about starting a business. We stuck them with the super strength, might as well find a way to let 'em make a living with it, right?
no subject
Emma's turn to shake out her fingers before she started typing again. I miiiight have just bought a school with the goal of having mutant students and training them in their powers, alongside human students for academics. Think any of your girls would be interested on coming on board, either as students or staff? Anyone who wanted to be a teacher pre-Slayer-upgrade, I would be happy to include paid undergraduate tuition so they could get licensed...
Hell, I could probably get some of them jobs at the Club as security, if they aren't squeamish about sex. Come over, bring your crew and your paperwork, and let's talk nerdy about how we make your business part of my business on this world.
no subject
There was totally going to be nerdy business talk. Just in a high-class sophisticated way.
Yeah, yeah, I'm being all adult and responsible. I know. Tell no one. It's weird.
no subject
no subject
Not really. Don't be terrible, Kennedy.
I have to figure out who'd get the most out of the trip and won't just screw around. As for that heart thing? Can't let that get out. Bad for PR, right?
no subject
So yes, that heart-bit is bad for PR.
no subject
Where is this place, anyway? I know, not my NY, but close enough.
no subject
no subject
Could be worse. All those months packed into Buffy's house like sardines had lent some perspective, apparently. Besides, the neighbors would probably get less weirded out that someone's getting up to funky things on the full moon. I mean, practical considerations. You know.
no subject
no subject