CHAPTER 2
Zimyra St. Claire.
I knew her name before I saw it so neatly displayed on her desk nameplate. I’ve familiarized myself with her and her movements from afar. What I didn’t know and wasn’t expecting is how detrimentally beautiful she is. It was a shock to my system to finally lay eyes on her – the woman Leverage Realty Group – the parent company of Atlantic Properties, credited with having the lowest move-out rate this year of all of our properties in North Carolina. The percentage was so low, it couldn’t be ignored. The big boss, AKA, my stepfather, Peter Bayne, wanted to figure out what Zimyra was doing to keep the tenants happy, and honestly, I wanted to know, too. Once I paid her old maintenance crew to walk away, I found my way in. I’m the COO – Chief Operating Officer of Leverage – but she doesn’t need to know that, does she?
No, she doesn’t.
Nor does she need to know that I’m a millionaire as I have successfully worked my way to the top. All she needs to do is hire me for the maintenance position, and I won’t stop until I get it. It’s how I got where I am. My stepfather didn’t hand me anything. Years of schooling, studying and interning is how I earned my spot in the company. It wasn’t easy, but again, I don’t stop until I get what I want.
But the woman drives a hard bargain. In addition to the four-page application, she wants me to submit a resume. Who asks for a resume for a maintenance position? Did she require one for the last group of men who I paid off, or is she just messing with me because she’s already suspicious of my intentions?
Admittedly, I shouldn’t have done the tour, but I couldn’t resist. I was so mesmerized by her, I had to stay a bit longer just to be in her presence. It’s her voice, the scent of peaches, her light, creamy skin tone and that thick, black curly hair that she had pulled into a ponytail. Or it could be her sass, the way she’s attentive to detail as she analyzed me and the way she knows the ins and outs of her position. I get the impression she’s not just here for a check. She loves what she does. That’s what I need to harness – the power of Zimyra and how it plays into running this complex.
The power of Zimyra.
I chuckle to myself and then look over this application. I’m staying at another one of our properties in the area – downtown to be exact. It’s called Luxe on Lady . The place is on Lady Street, hence the name. Luxury apartments reside here as well but unlike Atlantic, these units come with a concierge and valet parking. Even with the extras, the move-out rate is awful. I suppose while I’m here, I can find out what management is doing around here as well, but my focus is Zimyra’s location.
I leave my temporary home to go downstairs. The bottom level of the adjacent building has a ramen restaurant, a convenience store, and a bar. I’m in the mood for food while I figure out how to forge a maintenance resume and fill out a job application – things I’ve never had to do before. I was born with a silver spoon, and I’m not ashamed of it. Peter wouldn’t allow me to have the typical teenage life of getting a first job at a fast food joint because he had bigger and better things lined up for me. My job as a teen and young adult was to bury my head in books and study business. So, that’s what I did. I’ve never been the type to sit back and wait for someone to hand me anything. Nor would I ever. I worked hard and got it on my own merits. I took that spoon and made my own silverware.
I settle at a two-seater table, order a shrimp ramen bowl, and take out my phone. I dial my stepfather’s cell.
“What did you find out?”
That’s how he answered the phone. Yeah, Peter Bayne was all business like that – a straight-to-the-point kind of guy. Who needed cordiality when business needed to be handled? He was the same way when I was growing up, too, and my mother swears I adopted his traits. I think as a teenager, I was reaching out for someone to look up to, and since my father had died, Peter is who I aspired to be – rich, dominant, rigid but more disciplined and levelheaded when the situation warranted it. I was twelve when Peter came into my life – fourteen when he married my mother. I was a minor, but she asked if I wanted to keep my last name instead of adopting his. I always appreciated her for giving me a choice. Ultimately, I decided to keep my father’s name. I was the only one left to carry on that name, and though I had no plans to, at least the option was on the table. Besides, it brought me great happiness to know that I would always be a Jennings .
Whatever the case, my hat will always go off to Peter. He patiently taught me the ins and outs of the business and took me under his wing. He never had children of his own and, well, I was it – the son he never had. The son he was extremely proud of. He’d tell everyone who would listen about his boy. About how proud he was that I graduated summa cum laude from Hartford. I couldn’t step foot in a room without him bragging about me. I appreciated it, though. Before my mother met him, she was struggling. She kept food on the table, but it wasn’t easy. Then they met and Peter did everything for her – for us. He certainly lightened the load and allowed my mother to breathe. She was unburdened and happy. I saw her smile again. She was back to her old self. Now, she spends her days doing the things she loves – exercise classes, donating to charities, gardening, and hanging with her book club friends.
“Hey, you there?” Peter asks.
“Yes, I’m here, Peter,” I say. I always called him by his first name and sometimes Pops depending on what I’m feeling like at the time. “You just get straight to business, huh? No asking me if I’ve settled in or nothing.”
“I know you’ve settled in. I want to know if you were able to meet the St. Claire lady.”
The St. Claire lady…
He has her sounding like an old woman when she’s nothing close to it. She’s a beauty – pretty beyond measure and delicate enough to mold. Her scent instantly comes to my nostrils. Her smile is behind my pupils. Her—
“Axel?”
“Yes, I’ve met her,” I say. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted. I’m in a restaurant right now,” I tell him, but nothing here is distracting. It’s her – Zimyra – and all my many thoughts of her.
“And?”
“She’s making me fill out an application for the maintenance position.”
Peter is laughing so loudly, I have to move my cell away from my ear.
“I’m glad you find humor in that.”
Coming down off laughter, he says, “That’s golden. Who would’ve ever thought my Hartford graduate would be filling out an application for a maintenance position? Good googly moogly! Boy times have changed.”
“Okay—never say good googly…whatever the rest of that was ever again. Second, she doesn’t know I’m the COO of Leverage. As far as she knows, I’m some dude off the street looking for a job. And now, I have to find a way to fill out an application?”
“You know how to fill out an application, Ax.”
“I’ve never done it before. Oh, and get this—she wants a resumé.”
“Get her what she’s asking for. Keep in mind this is research for you. Once you get hired on, you’re going to get the inside scoop on how this lady is operating the office so efficiently. We need this intel for the future of this company. Everything is going to work out. You’re only there for a few months and then you’re back here at the corporation where you belong.”
“You got that right. These country bumpkins got me almost trying to learn a new language with that Southern twang to their voices. It’s very different and interesting.”
“I bet. What about the St. Claire lady? She got that Southern twang, too?”
“She does, a little, but not as much as the guy who works the concierge desk at the downtown apartments. He told me something this morning, and I just smiled and kept on walking. I think I may have offended him, but I had no clue what the man said.”
He laughs. “Ay, if you stay there long enough, you’ll be talking just like them.”
“No way.”
“Anyway, what is the feel of Atlantic? How did you feel walking into the place?”
How did I feel walking into the place?
I felt like my inability to breathe was being severely challenged. I remember seeing her face and immediately thinking that there was no way I could work so closely with a woman so breathtaking and accomplish what I needed to accomplish down here. And then I recalled looking at her bare feet. In the brief moment my eyes caught sight of them, I saw that her toenails were painted white. She has a tattoo of stars sprinkled down her right ankle. I immediately wondered if she had any elsewhere.
“Ax…”
“Oh my bad,” I say, shaking out of my thoughts about her. I say, “The place is clean. Smells fresh. It upholds the luxury brand of Leverage. There wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. But, as is the case with all apartments, there will be some maintenance issues, though she didn’t point out any and why would she? She thought I was a future tenant. That’s not something you share with tenants.”
“True.”
“I suppose she’s waiting for me to fill out this four-page application now.”
“Here’s an idea—why don’t you get your assistant to do it? Darla will have no issues completing that for you, and while she’s at it, she can type you up a fake resumé as well.”
“Nah. I have to do this myself. If I don’t, I’m not sure Zimyra is going to give me the job.”
“Or, you could just do something bold.”
“Like what?”
“Like go there and start working without her permission. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Um—I don’t know…maybe she calls the cops on me for trespassing!”
“Yeah…that is a possibility, huh?”
“You know what, Peter—let me handle this my way. I assure you I can handle this little lady with ease.”
“If you say so.”
The waitress brings my food. It smells amazing – a blend of ramen with sliced boiled eggs, broccoli, onions and sausage. I’ve had ramen before, but not like this. I’m so hungry, I could eat just about anything right now.
“Ah’ight, Peter. I’m going to get into this meal before it gets cold. I’ll check in with you later.
“Sure. Later.”
As soon as I end the call, I dive in and the flavors take me into another universe. I’m immediately thankful that this place is so close. I’ve never been much of a cook. I’ll be a regular here for sure.
I leave shortly after smashing the food and return to my unit on the top floor – floor twenty. It’s a nice pad with an expansive kitchen, living room and dining room. The windows are all naked. They’re tinted, but with the lights on, you could probably see inside. This high up, who would? Even if I was walking around nude, I wouldn’t care. Whoever was watching would be the lucky one to see a body this ripped.
The lighting in this place is fancy. The chandelier over the dining room table looks like a masterpiece. The appliances in the kitchen are all stainless steel. I knew I would love this place once I saw the black sectional sofa and the seventy-inch flat screen on the wall. Ahead of my visit, I arranged for these things to be put in place. Instead of packing clothes, I ordered a new Southern wardrobe so I could fit right in with a blue-collar worker lifestyle. Back home, I have a personal chef, a walk-in closet, a personal tailor, housekeeping and all. My home is immaculate and expansive, but this place will have to do for a few months. It’s laid out like a bachelor pad – fitting for me because that’s who I am – a bachelor – always have been, always will be. There’s no room in the trajectory of my life for love, a woman, kids, none of that. I was put on this earth to make money moves, and I’m so freakin’ good at it. Why would I need anything more than that?
Women? They come a dime a dozen. And I’ve never met one who could hold my attention long enough to be slightly interested in anything longer than a brief interaction . My boys and acquaintances have girlfriends and wives, but I’ll pass on the drama and heartache. The things they tell me alone are enough to keep me a bachelor for life.
Sometimes they look like they wished they had stayed single. Some look blissfully in love. Whatever the case, they can keep it. I’m good with entertaining a woman for a short time – not a long time.
After a quick shower, I sit at a desk facing the few other towers in this area and stare off into the darkness. I don’t want to sit here and do something so menial like fill out an application, but this woman has requirements, so…
I click open a pen and begin. Here goes nothing.