Chapter 8
Not even fifteen minutes later, Lacey called out from her office door. “Ladies, can I have you all in the conference room? Now.”
“I hate those dinky stools in there,” Viv mumbled as we dropped our mid-morning Snickers bars and made for the conference room.
I fell in behind the new girl, Aria, a former debutante from Savannah with impeccable manners. When my phone buzzed in my hand, I checked the screen before hitting decline on my sister’s incoming call. “That’s because you need two of them for the junk in your trunk,” I told Viv.
“You’d kill for my ass, cari?o.” She cocked her leg and gave her right cheek a hard tap.
“Damn right, Miss Morita,” I admitted.
All of us gathered round the table, taking the stools we’d put dibs on without speaking. Clarissa took the stool next to Lacey at the head of the table every time—as if she could soak up her power by osmosis. Aria sat with perfect posture next to Clarissa, attempting to be her confidante, not realizing she’d been recruited to act as a soldier.
We were the last to sit down, and I winced as my cheeks hit the wood. I missed David’s chairs.
Our leader stood at the head of the reclaimed wooden table. “I have a couple of announcements.”
My trachea tied itself in a knot, letting me breathe in minuscule bursts of air.
“First off, let’s all congratulate Scarlett, who landed The Crystal building, which is predicted to be a two-hundred-million-dollar sell-out.” Lacey clapped, and everyone joined in.
Viv whooped. Aria looked confused. Clarissa’s face turned crimson. Well, if she didn’t know before, she does now.
For a hot second, Jack vanished from my mental Rolodex, and I rode the joy wave like a hyperactive surfer on a sugar rush!
“Congrats,” Marianne, our youngest team member, called from the end of the table. “You’re my hero, girl.”
“Thanks.” I shifted on my stool.
“Aside from that, she’s going to be working with an agent from another brokerage. This will help expand our network, and I think we can all agree it’s an exciting opportunity,” Lacey continued.
Trust her to put a positive spin on something she’d almost spat about less than ten minutes ago.
“Couldn’t land it on your own, huh?” Clarissa ridiculed.
My pulse thundered in my ears. You couldn’t land it at all. “I’m grateful that I’ve been chosen for the opportunity.”
Boom. Her lips snapped shut.
Every agent in the room would wrench out their hair extensions for an opportunity like this. For once, I would be the focus of other people’s envy. I no longer had to be the little girl staring through the window at the life she’d never have. My trachea unwound itself. I could do this, no matter what it took.
Lacey’s gold Van Cleef Arpels bracelets tinkled in the air as she gestured for silence. The buzz of conversation paused. “Now, most of you know that I’m looking to take a step back in the next year. I want to spend my time sipping daiquiris in South America while a bronzed god sips on me.”
“Amen.” Viv snapped her fingers.
Lacey winked. “So that means I have to consider who I could bring on to manage all of you.”
“Who?” Viv quipped, well aware of the contenders. Lacey had mentioned it numerous times to both Clarissa and I in each other’s presence—a mother playing her two kids against each other to test their competitiveness—to see who would be left standing when the music stopped. Although, she hadn’t announced it to the office any other time. Why today?
Lacey clapped her hands together. “After a lot of consideration, I’ve narrowed it down to my two top sellers.” She twisted the cuff of her custom-made chiffon shirt—yellow today. She owned the same shirt in ten different pastel colors. “And looking at all the numbers over the last year, it appears they are…” She swiped away an imaginary speck of dust from her chest.
Lacey belonged in the theatre—she played for us all every day for free.
“Clarissa,” Lacey announced in stereo sound.
Clarissa gasped and clutched her chest in a fake Oscar “Is it me?” moment. “Oh my God, thank you. This is so unexpected.”
Bullshit.
Clarissa’s modesty looked as fake as the non-prescription glasses she wore to appear intelligent. The square rhinestone monstrosities were straight out of Elton John’s closet.
After everyone murmured their congratulations, Lacey continued. “And my other top seller is… Scarlett.”
No gushing over Lacey from me. I gave a modest smile while everyone around me cheered.
Time for Lacey’s finale.
“In real estate, you need to be a shark to take what’s yours if you want to get to the top.”
I will be a fucking shark, all day, every day. Or a barracuda? Fuck it, they both live in the ocean.
“How badly do you want your name up there?” Her heels clicked on the blonde hardwood floor as she rounded the table, pointing to the huge neon Lacey Group sign on the wall.
More than I want air in my lungs.
Clarissa’s eyes crinkled, cracking the waxy fa?ade around them. “The Lacey Darby Group has a nice ring to it.”
Aria nodded, earning her a smile from Clarissa.
Lacey intervened, eager to wrap up. “Be a shark. Meeting over. Back to work.”
She stalked out, exhausted by her matinee performance.
Viv hugged me from behind as the room emptied. “You’re going to kill it, honey. She’s half the agent you are.”
My stomach gurgled. “Half the waist size.”
She loosened her grip and spun me to face her. “Are you all right? Your face is pale.”
“When is my face not pale?” I forced a laugh. “I need some air. And blush.”
I extracted myself, headed down to the lobby, and turned right outside into the alley.
Crouching against the wall, I took deep breaths to settle my stomach. For years I’d kept my IBS under control, but in the last week I’d been a burp away from throwing up or defecating.
“Feeling nauseous? I’d throw up too if I couldn’t even land a listing on my own.” Clarissa’s voice rained down on me.
I hoisted myself back up. “Too many tequilas with friends last night. Not that you’d know.”
“There are no friends in this business. And trust me, when I’m named managing partner, yours will be the first to go.”
My hackles rose. “What are you talking about?”
She took a step closer until we were nose to nose. “After I fire you, your little cucaracha friend will be next.”
“Are you intentionally being racist, or are you that stupid?” I responded, shaking with the effort of keeping my hands at my sides.
With the education she’d received, I assumed she knew better.
She shrugged. “You don’t belong here. I wanted to give you a heads-up so you could start looking for another job. Maybe Burger King? You both seem like a good match for the service industry.”
I’m going to beat the Park Avenue shit right out of her.
“That’s not going to happen.” I stepped back before I did something that might get me fired—or arrested.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m not going to let you waltz in here and take what’s mine.” She tossed her hair and walked away.
I waited until she rounded the corner before resuming my crouched position. Goddamn bitch following me out here to gloat. This promotion signified the next step in my plan—the dream I’d clung to whenever the shouting and chaos kept me up at night. Lacey had taken me in when everyone else had laughed me out the door. She’d taught me everything I needed to be successful. Lacey’s nurturing and guidance had plugged the hole my mother had gouged out of my heart. I’d be damned if I walked away and bit the hand that fed me. Lacey was the first woman apart from my sister who’d nurtured me. Her movements, deliberate and fluid, conveyed a confidence that commanded attention anywhere she went. She knew her worth, and I’d modelled myself on her because of that. Even if I could get over my loyalty, reaching partner status elsewhere could take a decade, a wait I was unwilling to endure.
The vomit rushed up, and I retched until my stomach ached.