Chapter 6
Forgetting I’d removed my heels to relax for five minutes, I kicked out in exasperation, and my bare foot connected with the leg of my steel desk. “Argggghhhh!”
I’d returned to the office after the showing and spent the last two hours going back and forth with Carmella’s broker. Who must be high on gas and air if he thought we would accept a million under ask.
To add to the issue, my seller had gone on a business trip to China and getting in touch with him proved harder than getting Taylor Swift tickets. Legally, I needed to present the offer, as Carmella’s broker had reminded me. Twice.
Why couldn’t it be Monday already? I’ll never survive the weekend.
Spots formed in front of my eyes as I typed. I hadn’t eaten since my episode this morning, fearing a repeat attack.
Every time my cell trilled, I jumped a mile, expecting it to be David with good news to end this horrendous Friday afternoon. After Clarissa met with David an hour ago, she had returned to the office with a sickly-sweet expression on her face.
“It’s in the bag,” she’d told anyone willing to listen. And part of me hated that I felt threatened. “I expect he’ll call over the weekend.”
What if that little scene with Jack had put David off and I’d inadvertently handed Clarissa the win? Or Jack. I can’t believe he saw me in a moment of weakness. God!
My toes roared in pain from a second kick of the desk.
Pull yourself together. You’re Scarlett fucking Munroe.
With renewed vigor, I texted Carmella’s agent to arrange a dinner for tonight. By reputation, he enjoyed expensive whisky. A few measures of the good stuff would get him right where I wanted him.
* * *
The time on my phone clicked from 7:15 to 7:16. Tardiness lived on the same level as people who bit into ice cream cones. Both made my brain itch.
Behind me, a deep voice grew louder as it shouted greetings to different tables. It ceased for a minute when it reached my table.
“Scarlett Munroe, in the flesh.” My opponent flashed a prominent set of veneered teeth. His dentist must moonlight as an equine vet. Perhaps he’d been knocked out with a horse tranquillizer.
“Steven Fermin—fifteen minutes late,” I droned. Or Vermin, as I’d labelled him after our very first meeting. He was as slimy as a snake with beady rat eyes that stripped you naked.
He unbuttoned a grey-checked suit jacket and banged down into his seat, opening his menu. “Traffic.”
“Not the dentist?” I countered.
His left eye twitched. “Funny. We’ve made it clear what our offer is.”
I signaled the waiter, who rushed to jot down the smorgasbord of food Steven ordered along with his preferred whisky. I ordered a steak and fries, enjoying the judgmental widening of Steven’s eyes as they drifted down to my hips. That’s right, asshole. I eat. I scanned the wine list and selected the most expensive bottle of red for me out of spite for his lateness.
“My buyer said no to your offer,” I informed him, “so you need to counter.”
“Do I?”
“That’s what happens in a negotiation.”
He tossed back the eighteen-year-old Scotch the waiter had brought him. “You need to lighten up.”
“I’ll take that advice on board.” I smirked. “So call Carmella and get her up.”
He hesitated before pulling his phone out of pants that were too tight. The typing took forever, and I swirled the red wine around my glass to amuse myself.
Around us, waiters in pressed black-and-white uniforms scurried back and forth with plates of mouth-watering meat.
A ping sounded. “She’ll do four point two.” He left the phone on the table.
I knew my buyer would tell them to shove it, but I sent the message. After playing phone tag with my client earlier, I’d emailed to make sure he’d be available around this time for negotiating.
A chime. “Nope. Four point seven. Best and final. Closing in one week.”
Steven huffed and sent Carmella a message. A whoosh sounded fifteen seconds later. “You have a deal.”
Easy. “Good.” The food arrived steaming hot in front of us. “I’ll need the deal sheet by tomorrow.”
Steven chewed on a piece of sirloin. “Calm down—you’ll have it.”
“For future reference, never in the history of humankind has telling someone to calm down calmed them down,” I pointed out.
He sat back in his seat. “It is true what they say about you?”
“What do they say?” I poured an abundance of salt over my fries, ignoring the pounding in my clogged arteries. We all died of something.
“That you’re a barracuda,” he told me, a piece of lettuce hanging from the side of his mouth.
I chewed on a piece of steak, making sure to smack my lips. “Because of my powerful jaw?”
Steven looked disgusted. “No, because of the ruthless aggression.”
“That’s a prerequisite for being in real estate. The weak don’t survive.” I swallowed the steak and pierced a fry with my fork.
The soft glow from the pendant light gleamed on his steak knife as he sawed it back and forth. “I hear you pitched to David Steel.”
I nodded. “Correct.”
“So did our guy. Jack Shane.”
“Never heard of him.”
Steven clicked his fingers to grab the waiter’s attention.
Entitled dick.
“Trust me, he’ll wipe the floor with you.”
I’ll bet Jack Shane wouldn’t even click his fingers at someone.
I gave the waiter an apologetic smile. “I’ve never known a man to wipe a floor.”
He chewed so hard I could almost hear his veneers cracking. “I wouldn’t be celebrating yet. What Jack wants, Jack gets.”
“Never spend money you don’t have in your pocket,” I agreed. “It’s a good way to go broke.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “So what are you doing after this?”
Ugh, Fermin by name, but vermin by nature. I lifted my phone, pretending to scroll through an email while clicking through to the text-tone selection. I pushed the bell notification and feigned shock.
“I have to go. My assistant’s been arrested.” Not impossible. At some point in our friendship, I felt certain I’d be posting bail for Viv after a daring escapade.
I pushed the chair back, unhooked my bag, and flung it over my shoulder. “I want the deal sheet ASAP.
“He’ll take the check,” I told our waiter on the way out, slipping fifty dollars into his hand.
* * *
“Honey, you are cursed,” Viv commiserated, knocking back a tequila shot.
I’d called her from the cab and begged her to come and talk me down at our favorite dive bar. Her son had gone to stay at a friend’s house, so she’d jumped in a cab before I’d even finished the sentence. The perfect friend.
My migraine pounded in time with the bass. “You’re telling me.”
“I take a single morning off, and it’s just one disaster after another.” Her nose wrinkled as she sank her teeth into a lime.
“You’re meant to be making me feel better,” I reminded her, twirling my tequila.
“I am. I got you a shot.” Viv grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl between us. “Did Jack explain why his meeting got moved forward? Cause my sources are always reliable.”
Every muscle in my body contracted at the memory. “No, he seemed more focused on the shit attack stinking up the office.”
Viv swallowed before snatching another handful of nuts. “I’m fucking dying that you did that. But at least he didn’t make a big deal of it.”
“I’m dying that I did that.”
She let out a loud guffaw that rocked her stool to the side.
I grabbed her elbow to tilt her back to safety. “It’s not funny. If he tells that story to other people, my reputation is shot.”
“Do a Bill Clinton and deny, deny, deny.” Viv pointed to my full shot glass. “Speaking of shots, drink.”
“I can’t. I don’t have your strong stomach.” I was convinced her stomach lining comprised of the same material as Captain America’s shield. Viv never got food poisoning from street meat. She could pound Patrón until 3 a.m. and wake up at 6 a.m., fresh as a daisy. Whereas two shots made me incapable of walking upright.
She held the glass up to my lips. “Drink, bitch. You’ll feel better.”
The tequila burned my throat on the way down, and I shivered. “Fuck, that’s strong.”
“Lightweight.” She signaled to the bartender for a bottle of water. “So what happened at dinner?”
“In summary, Steven Fermin tried to tell me I wasn’t shit compared to Jack Shane. I ordered the most expensive bottle of wine to get back at him for wasting my time. Which I felt slight guilt over until he acted like a dick to the waiter.”
The bartender set the bottle in front of Viv. “What kind of wine?” she asked, sliding the water over to me.
“Chateau Margaux 2012,” I told her with a wink, twisting open the bottle cap and taking a slug. “I fucking hate wine.”
Viv clapped. “You are good, honey.”
“He called me a barracuda,” I revealed, hating that it stung.
She snorted with laughter. “Like the fish?”
“Yep. Known for their ferocious behavior.” I checked my phone for the ten millionth time.
“You’ve been called a lot worse,” Viv pointed out.
“I shudder to think.”
An email notification sounded, and I pounced on it. It turned out to be spam trying to sell me a retirement cruise. I needed to watch what I signed up for. “Send it already.” I shook the phone.
“He will,” Viv said. “If he doesn’t, you’ll eat him.” She collapsed into a fit of laughter and almost fell off her stool again. I considered giving her the final nudge.
The ping of another email sounded. Subject line: “Loft on Carmine.” “C’mon, Vermin,” I muttered. Full of hope, I scrolled through it, holding my breath. “Deal done. Carmella took the loft.” I punched the air.
“Never doubted you.” Viv clapped me on the back.
After emailing the seller, I took my first real breath of the day.
Over the thump of music and Viv singing along, I heard three words at the table next to me. Need. Buy. Apartment.
“Excuse me…” I leaned over and interrupted the couple in jeans and matching Columbia sweatshirts next to us. “If you’re looking to buy somewhere, I’m a real estate agent.” With practiced ease, I slid a business card from my purse and handed it over.
After a fruitful ten-minute conversation, I ascertained they’d met at this bar in college and tonight marked the anniversary of the first night they’d met. More important, they were first-time buyers with no realtor and a budget of four million dollars. Bingo. I told them about a four-bedroom listing in Brooklyn Heights that would be perfect for them.
“Do you ever shut off?” Viv asked once I turned back around to face her.
“No.” I waved to the bartender and mouthed my request for a Coke.