There was a loud banging somewhere nearby. But, my eyes weren’t open enough to sort out its importance. I buried my head under the pillow, swearing and wishing the noise would stop.
“Hey, Tina! You in there?” My brain finally catalogued the sounds as someone—someone who I would see to it soon died a slow painful death—knocking on my window. I mustered my strength and ignored it, choosing instead to go back into my dream. A wonderful dream with Prince William, Tahiti and me.
Three seconds later I was interrupted by the screeching of my cell phone. There is no justice. I thought sourly, glancing at the clock. Was it truly only after six? Who the hell was awake at this hour? And, why should I be joining them?
I answered the phone with a grunt, pleased the window knocker had disappeared. “Are you there?” It was Jet.
I grunted again.
“I was knocking on your window. Will you open up?” With my eyes closed, I managed to turn off the alarm, open the door and find my way back to bed.
“Wow!” he said, standing at my door, phone still in his hand. “You look like hell.” I shot him a rude gesture, flopped back on my bed and immediately returned to Wills.
It was twenty minutes later when Jet woke me again. He was sitting next to me, in one hand bribing me awake with a cup of my Jamaican Blue blend. In his other, he held the black bra I was wearing yesterday, where I summarily dismissed to the clothing heap when I went to bed last night.
I figured I could only save one from him, so I snatched the coffee. He examined my bra. “Born again virgins don’t wear things like this,” he said wisely. I grabbed the bra too.
The taste of my coffee was a blessing. I moaned slightly as the liquid seeped down my throat. “Oh, baby, say it again.” He teased.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to see if I could you wanted to get a bite to eat.”
“At six-twenty?”
“Actually, it was quarter-till when I started, you were dead to the world.”
“Late night.” I said, taking another sip.
“Really?” he said with genuine new-found interest. “Tell me all.”
I had no intention of telling Jet anything. Besides, it wasn’t like last night—I let out a groan of embarrassment for dumping my most personal secret on Matt—turned out to be not much more than dinner and praline pecan. In fact, it had a pretty non-climatic ending, with Matt telling me he was going to be out of town for the next few days and he would stop by when he got home this weekend. There was also the nice kiss on the cheek, but I was refusing to read anything into it.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated.
“Oh yea.” Jet, said, absent minded. “I dropped off June this morning and she lives around here, so I thought I would stop by.”
“June is a month, not a nature name.”
Jet let out an astonished scowl as if I had intentionally offended his mother, “June, as in June bug. It counts.” Changing the subject, he said, “How do you feel about pancakes? Blueberry pancakes?”
“It depends upon who’s paying?”
An hour later, I was showered and more than marginally awake at Arroyo Farms Bakery. Which also serves the absolute best blueberry pancakes. Their coffee, however, was the generic type and I would have ordered milk if I didn’t need the caffeine.
“Where’s the roommate and the boys?” Jet asked, washing down his breakfast with a large orange juice.
I swallowed my latest forkful. “Laura went to Cheyenne
Jet perked up, “Cheyenne Oklahoma
He didn’t wait for an answer. “Dom—what those of us on the circuit call him—was ranked third last year on the Pro Beach Tour. And, there is a whole—” he waved his fork in the air, trying to recall the right term, “shrine” he decided, “dedicated to Dom in Cheyenne. His fans just love him. I tell you, the man is a legend. You should have seen what he did in 1999 in Huntington Beach
“I think she is in the one in Wyoming
Jet looked puzzled. “Really? There’s a Cheyenne
“Mmmm,” I nodded.
“So, you know what you should do? You should put a for sale sign in her yard while she is gone,” Jet said.
I could feel the horror spreading over my face. Surprisingly, Jet noticed. “Not to worry,” he chuckled. “You don’t list it with the multiple listing, you just put up a sign. If someone calls on her house, you just tell them it already has a contract and you offer to show them other homes in the area. It could be an easy way to pick up buyers. What do you think?”
I thought it would get me sued. But, then again, I had no money and I was living in converted carport, turned apartment, eating breakfast paid for by the self-proclaimed mortgage It Guy all while rationalizing what a fabulous idea this really was.
As if I needed enticement, Jet said, “I could help you put together fliers and you could hold it open on Saturday.” I assured him, it would not be a wise idea to hold it open. He shrugged, “Suit yourself. But, you can still stick a sign outside.” He said this last part as a command, not a suggestion.
And, what could it hurt if I put a sign up for the weekend? Maybe I would get some calls.
I met Sebastian, Dee, Roy and Nancy at 11:28 in front of the Bay View Condominiums in Uptown Phoenix. I wasn’t expecting all of them to meet me here, though Sebastian and Dee had committed. Dee brought her camera. Roy
“Here,” he said, thrusting the clipboard in front of me. “Let’s get rocking.”
The checklists contained every imaginable item for each condo, from size, to price, to condition. He had a place to list what make and model of appliances, whether the homes were vacant or occupied and how long they had been on the market. My job was to evaluate all four of the Bayview condos so I could report to Lillian Fields where her property stood compared to the competition.
The first unit was smaller than what the tax records showed for the Fields’ condo. It was vacant and smelled of new carpet and paint. “Probably a one-time rental and the owner wants to dump it,” Roy mused as Dee snapped pictures and Nancy
He answered, “We can check the tax records. Landlords don’t like to make repairs or put money into their homes. Most likely if this was a rental, it has some cosmetic repairs, but underneath might be old bones, ready to fall apart.”
The second place was the same size as tomorrow’s destination. It was decorated in chic 1976, complete with terra cotta-colored wallpaper and avocado counter tops. “I just love the turquoise carpeting. It adds a nice psychedelic touch,” Dee said sardonically, shaking her head. “But, she added, at least it is clean.”
The third place was bland with built-in bookshelves and a tile-covered fireplace in the corner. The appliances had been replaced in the past thirty years, but were certainly not recent. “Man clean,” Nancy
No matter how stale condo number three might be, it was an immaculate contrast to number four. Unit 144 greeted us with a strong incense odor wafting in the foyer, but not disguising the unmistakable smell of pot.
The place was a thriving dump. The walls were covered with pin-ups, in natural poses, like spread-eagle on the hood of a Mustang or straddling backwards the seat of a motorcycle. In one of the two bedrooms, someone had left yesterday’s boxers in the middle of the floor as well as a condom wrapper.
“What a lucky girl.” I said, toeing the wrapper.
The rest of the joint was just as lovely. Or, at least I was assuming it was. I didn’t venture into the bathrooms—mainly out of fear. And, there was a bizarre smell coming from the kitchen, reminding me vaguely of rotting food, caked on to the dishes overflowing in the sink. Dee snapped a couple of photos. “Ready?” she asked the group as if any of us needed prodding.
Our last stop was in front of Lillian Field’s condo, until 187, where Dee snapped a photo of the front door and the adjacent patio. “You’ll see.” She smiled, telling us she would meet us back at Selma
Sitting in the back booth—which I found out was the unofficial Metro Realty Pros hang-out—Roy was helping me evaluate the competition, making a chart (which I figured was overkill) of all the other condos.
“If this place is clean and moderately updated, there is nothing to worry about.” Sebastian coached. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “I brought you this.” And, without any more ceremony, took a lock box out of his briefcase. “I figured you didn’t have one. You can borrow one of mine.”
I swallowed the ever-growing lump in my throat, touched not only by such a sweet gesture, but by how nice all of them had been to me. This was nothing like what Wendy had said. These agents, were gracious and from what I could tell, genuinely wanted me to succeed. I stammered a thank you.
Sebastian waved it off, “We are all in this together. You are one of us.” Which only made the lump bigger.
Dee showed up while Nancy was proofreading Roy Roy
Mental head slap! I had forgotten about Mr. Daniels until Dee mentioned signs—plural. Following up is the key to success, I remembered Wendy saying at one point. It was one of the more useful tidbits she gave me.
After hugs from everyone and thank yous from me, I took the lock box and two of Dee’s signs, as well as three open house signs (I told her, “just in case.” Not wanting to elaborate on Jet’s evil open house scheme) and I headed for my shift at Price Bargains.
On my way there, I thought more about putting a sign at Laura’s and opted to do the right thing. I would just ask her. Another call, and again I got her voice mail. I left a detailed message, asking if she would mind me pretending to list her home. I carefully explained I certainly wouldn’t let anyone in, I just wanted to solicit for future buyers and would she mind?
My other call was to Mr. Daniels, with similar results. I left a message, asking if he had gotten the overnight package I had sent and where we stood on me listing the house. I explained to his voice mail how I cannot be his agent, give him real estate advice or act on his behalf until he signed those documents.
Frankly, I didn’t have a lot of faith in a gutted house. I gathered, Dee , although optimistic on my behalf, didn’t see a lot of potential in this one either.
It was dark. I was adjusting my eyes, trying to figure out where I was. I was on my parent’s sofa in their media room. Dad dy was in his study in the next room. Any second now Max, our schnauzer would come in, his toenails clicking on the hardwood, and hop on the sofa—a transgression he knows I will ignore. I sniffed the air, anticipating the familiar smell of vanilla drifting through the room, making everything comfortable and homey. My eyes adjusted.
No. I was in Laura’s front room. Now I remembered. I had come home from Price Bargains, treated myself to a bowl of ice cream and flipped on one of Don Kublensy’s videos I had snagged from Metro Realty Professionals’ resource library. This one was on listing presentations. Because the front room had a better television, I chose the overstuffed couch instead of the tattered sofa and mini-television in the family room.
I had fallen asleep somewhere around Don, in his cheap suit, gesticulating and smiling at the camera, telling me, the gentle viewer, how listings are the key to success in real estate. From yesterday’s late night with Matt and Jet’s early morning breakfast, nothing was keeping me awake, even if Don Kublensy had been the least bit interesting.
I was trying to figure out what had woken me, when I heard a slight noise. An intruder in the house. Had I set the alarm?
I listened, trying to track where he was. I did a quick synopsis of my situation. I could pretend to be asleep, maybe he would leave. I could make a run for my room and my stun gun situated under my bed or I could try to bolt out the front door. In the ten seconds it took to consider my options, it was too late.
Someone came from behind me. With one arm caged me close to his body, while the other hand clamped my mouth right after I managed to make a small squeak. A gruff voice seethed, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You find her?” A man asked.
“No, the brown-haired cutie was sleeping the couch.”
“Waiting up for Laura, honey?” The second man asked. A light from the hallway was on. I could see the barbed wire tattoo on his cocoa brown wrist as his spindly fingers caressed my arm. I cringed as he moved his hand to my shoulder.
“I don’t think she likes you,” Gruff Voice laughed. My blood ran cold. Then to me, “Now listen Princess,” he barely whispered. There was no mistaking the menacing hiss coming from his voice. “Don’t turn around. If you listen to me you will be ok. Got it? I am going to let go of your mouth. If you scream, my friend here has a gun and he will use it on your pretty face.”
And, to emphasize this point, Tattoo-Guy moved a black pistol into my peripheral vision. “We just want information, that’s all. We aren’t after you. Do you want to play nice?”
I felt myself nodding, terrified. “She’s shaking,” mocked Tattoo Guy.
“Shut up,” admonished Gruff Voice. Then to me, “Ok, one, two, three.” And he let go of my mouth, but held on tight to my body. I whimpered, more frightened than I could ever imagine. “Now, nice and easy here. Where is Laura and her boys?”
“I don’t know.” I whimpered.
Tattoo Guy snickered. “Gee, didn’t expect that.”
“Really, I don’t.” It came out as a breathy whisper.
“And, now, let’s look at this, why would we believe you?” asked Gruff Voice.
“Be…because,” I sputtered. And, I couldn’t think of a good reason either. “Because—”
He cut me off. “Let’s cut to the chase.” I nodded. “In your cell phone, do you have Laura’s phone number?” I nodded again. “Now, tell me, nice and easy now, where is your phone?”
“On…in…my purse.” I stammered.
“Get the purse,” ordered Gruff Voice, slightly easing his grip on me.
A heavy sigh came out, “Where?” Tattoo Guy directed this question at me.
“In my room.” I squeaked.
“That’s good. It looks like you want to take care of yourself, Princess.” The words rang in my ears. It was as if his last sentence had knocked me back from the fear-induced coma into real life. I had my senses now.
The second guy returned. “Got it, let’s see if your friend answers. If she does, I want you to tell her she needs to come home. Now.”
“What…what if she doesn’t answer?” I asked, hoping Gruff Voice would talk again.
No luck. “Then leave a message. And, I recommend making it sound urgent,” said Tattoo-Guy.
I saw the barbed wire hand come into my view and the first man released his hold so I could take my cell phone. Instead, he clamped my shoulder. I cast a side-long look to his beefy fingers. I sat up straighter and retrieved her number.
“Use the speaker” ordered Tattoo Guy.
Somewhere in the house came a faint sound of a phone ringing. “You don’t think she left it here?” came the obvious question from Tattoo Guy. His voice trailing away as he asked. I heard a noise in the kitchen and the phone went dead. “Shit. She left it in the toaster oven.” Laura’s phone came whizzing past my head, hitting the wall with a thud.
I made an involuntary yelp.
The first guy’s grip tightened, pushing me down slightly into the sofa. I groaned from his weight. “Tell me Princess, everything you know and you get to keep your tiara. Where is she?”
My heart was racing and the moisture had left my mouth. “She… she told me she needed to get away.”
“When?” barked Tattoo Guy.
I said a quick prayer. If I could just get out of this alive, I could call Frieda. Maybe she would know what was happening. “She came home two days ago and said the Hacienda burned down. She said she was going to take the boys and go rent a cabin in Tahoe.” Where that came from?
I could feel the guy holding me shift his weight. “You believe her?”
“No. Do we still need her?” I sat still, waiting.
The one holding me sighed. “I don’t know.” A strange rasping sound emitted from my mouth. I had lost the ability to talk. I could tell by the shadow the second one moved. Now in my peripheral vision, I saw carrying a cylinder of some sort.
“What are you doing?” I practically yelled, ignoring my directive.
“Shh…” Gruff Voice barked. I was too freaked out now. The man took his sweaty palm and stuck it back over my mouth, squeezing me tighter. “Just relax. You won’t feel a thing.”
Through the dark, I saw Tattoo-guy’s profile. He was holding something and coming closer. The first man moved his hand away from my mouth and I went to scream.
“Chloroform” I heard one of them utter as the washcloth enveloped my mouth and nose. Then, all was black.
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