Stalker Problems - Chapter 15 - Smooth Floors?
"Drive or walk?" asked Frankie.
"How far is it?"
"Just down the street. At the Caldwell Hotel."
Every bit of the building oozed class. Gold trim, polished marble…even the doorman’s forest-green suit looked like it had been handcrafted by some name-brand designer.
“I thought this was a hotel?” I asked as Frankie led me to the elevators.
“Only the bottom 20 floors or so. The rest is residential.” The elevator dinged open and a liftman held the doors open for us.
Unlike the doorman who had been well over 60, the liftman was around my age.
And damn was he handsome. Was he part of the Society?
I was so busy checking him out that I nearly tripped.
I tried to play it off like it was no big deal.
“41 st floor, please,” said Frankie.
“My pleasure.” The liftman pressed the button and up we went.
On the ride up, Frankie explained that all the apartments had access to all the amenities of the hotel, including a heated indoor pool, a fully equipped gym, room service from the restaurant downstairs, a la carte bath butler services, and daily maid service.
"This first apartment is the base model here. Two bedrooms, one and a half baths. Pretty standard. Nothing too fancy, but it's a good solid apartment. You really can't go wrong with it."
"Sounds boring," I said. If I was going to splash almost a million fake dollars, I didn't want the base model. I wanted something freaking amaze-balls.
"Noted. Just try to keep an open mind and afterward we can discuss what you liked and what you didn't."
Maybe if she'd asked me better questions than if I wanted a "completely smooth" floor she'd have known that I didn’t want something #Lame, as Chastity would say. Score! I’d finally used a hashtag right! I couldn’t wait to tell Chastity all about it. But right now I needed to focus.
Frankie swiped a keycard through the lock and the door clicked open.
I went immediately to the kitchen. That was always my favorite thing to see on all those HGTV shows.
Well, that and the master bathrooms. This kitchen was okay.
Not amazing, but definitely better than mine.
I was looking at the stack of listing flyers when a man said, "Hello. "
Holy shit! I threw the entire stack of papers in the air and nearly fell over.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said.
"Are you the owner? I'm so sorry. I just assumed Frankie had arranged for us to be here. We'll leave right away."
"I'm the listing agent. John." He stuck his hand out for me to shake. "Nice to meet you."
I shook it, but I didn't reach in far enough, so he just ended up wiggling my fingers like wet noodles. "Cool," I said.
"Cool," he agreed. "Just let me know if you have any questions.
" He gave me a friendly smile. I know that you're probably thinking he was super hot and that I was going to rape him or something.
But that wasn't the case. Other than his smile, the rest of him wasn't really worth describing.
Actually, I don't really remember what he looked like.
I think he was average height with an average build, probably dressed in a standard realtor outfit of a white button-down and some slacks.
It only took me a few minutes to tour the entire apartment.
According to the listing flyers I had thrown all over the kitchen, it was only 730 square feet.
Most importantly, I didn't once try to get naked or rape John during the entire tour. I was very proud of myself. My reintroduction into the wild was going quite well, other than the whole pie thing with my stalker. And the more time I spent out in the wild, the more I realized that had totally been my stalker’s fault.
What kind of stalker didn’t know where his stalkee was at all times?
I just taught him a lesson to step up his game. He’d thank me later.
Frankie was waiting for me in the foyer. "So what'd you think?" she asked.
"I think we should keep looking."
John looked disappointed. Maybe he was really in need of that commission check of Monopoly money. "Well, thanks for considering it. Good luck finding an apartment."
"You too." Damn it. I always said shit like that. Especially at restaurants when the waiter would tell me to enjoy my meal. Or when people wished me happy birthday. The worst was one time when I said it to some girl who had the same birthday as me. I immediately took it back, and then I really looked like an asshole. You too. Actually, don’t have a nice birthday, bitch!
Rather than try to awkwardly backtrack with John I just walked out and hoped he hadn't noticed.
"So what turned you off about this one?" asked Frankie when we were alone in the hallway.
"It was okay. It was just so...boring."
"I get that. But what specifically didn't you like? The more you give me, the better I'll do with the next one."
"Well I definitely didn't like how John surprised me in the kitchen.
Why was he there? Was he having an open house?
" If he was, he did a terrible job advertising it. There hadn't been a single sign anywhere on the way up. And there weren’t any glasses of complimentary champagne. In all the fancy showings on TV, there was always champagne. Poor, simple John. He wasn’t going to sell that place in a million years.
"For apartments this expensive, the listing agent usually likes to be there to answer any questions."
"Ah, gotcha." Crazy rich people.
"So what else didn't you like?"
Where do I even begin? "I didn't like all the walls. I'm looking for more of an open concept. And the kitchen was just so...blah. I want a big island. And granite countertops. And a sexy backsplash. Oh! Definitely a gas stove with one of those fancy hoods over it.”
“So you’re looking for something with a little more flair?”
"Yeah, I guess you could say that." I hadn't been in the housing market for a while, but it sure seemed like she was using some strange lingo.
It didn't really matter though. There was no way the Society would actually let me buy a place here using Monopoly money.
I decided to just have some fun and pretend like I was on My Lottery Dream Home .
"You know what, I can get more than $750,000 for a down payment. Just show me the most extra place you’ve got. "
"Now that's what I like to hear." Frankie clicked a few buttons on her phone. "I have just what you're looking for."
We took the elevator up to the 58th floor.
If the elevator buttons were to be trusted, that was only a few floors away from being the top of the tower.
Fancy indeed. In fact, it was so fancy that there wasn't even really a hallway.
Just a little foyer with two doors labeled 58A and 58B.
58B was our destination. And it was freaking awesome.
"Hello, gorgeous,” said the realtor, shutting his Cosmo magazine and setting it aside.
“Pink Ocelot, at your service.” He bowed and kissed my hand.
Usually I would have been grossed out by such a gesture, but he was so well groomed that I wasn’t even sure his lips had any germs on them.
Seriously. I’d never seen a man so impeccably groomed.
His skin was flawless, his fuchsia dress shirt had clearly been pressed, and his hair was… huge.
I probably should have said hi, but instead I just stared at him. I had so many questions. How much gel did it take for him to pull off that hairstyle? And what the hell kind of name is Pink Ocelot?
“We can start the tour in a minute,” he said. “But I have to ask…who did your hair? It’s divine.” Ocelot ran his hands through the ends of my black wig. “Paul Mitchell called, he needs his model back.”
Am I the model? Or does my wig have a model number or something? Shit! Is it that obvious that it's a wig?
"Ocelot, please!" said Frankie. "Try not to touch my clients."
"How can I keep my hands off perfection?" He growled like a tiger. Or did Ocelots growl? Either way, he growled.
"I'm sure you'll find a way. How about you show us around?"
"What would you like to see first?"
I didn't answer. I just started wandering around trying to imagine how much this all must cost.
The ceilings were all at least ten feet high, the whole living space was open, and every surface was sparkling white.
It looked like the Property Brothers had just been there and worked their magic.
Every room had unique details that brought the whole place to life.
I wasn't sure if my favorite part was the black and white zigzag accent wall in the master bedroom or the flamboyant marble statue of Dionysus in the dining room.
Then we got to the bathroom.
It was modern and sleek, with lots of glass.
There was even a fireplace in the corner for no apparent reason other than to be extra.
But two things caught me off guard. First, there was a bidet - the world’s most disgusting invention.
And second, the shower wasn’t nearly as big as I would have wanted for such a sick bathroom.
"So what do you think?" asked Ocelot. "Fabulous, right?"
"Yes. But why is the shower so small?”
“I wouldn’t call it small. More like slightly above average. Most importantly, though, this shower knows how to hit you in all the right spots at just the right time. Not just any old shower can do that, you know.”
Is that what all those buttons are for? “Hmmm…I don’t know. It really seems small to me.”
He looked insulted for a moment, but then he smoothed his shirt and regained his composure.
“My dear girl, don’t get me wrong. Big showers are amazing.
In fact, I’ve looked at real estate all over the world in search of the biggest shower.
But big showers are best as a sometimes thing. A special treat, if you will.”