Monday, thankfully, my phone didn’t ring until eight. It was a restful sleep and I seriously needed it.
The night before, right after my call to Jet (where he superbly acted the part, vacillating between astonished and devastated family member whose grandmother had some sort of terrible medical emergency—though I doubt Holly believed him), I triple checked the door locks and the alarm. On my way into dreamland, I remembered Matt’s order to come see him. Thankful I ignored it, leaving me to explain Jet or the slashed tires to another day.
“Hey Tina, it’s Val,” the friendly voice on the other side said. It took me a moment. Val? Who the hell was Val? Not waiting for me to respond, she said, “I have a lead for you.”
Oh, that Val.
“Um, thanks.” I said, tentatively, thinking about Mr. Daniels and what kind of client he was turning out to be.
“His name is Michael Taylor.” She gave me the number, just as I was reaching for a pen. “He wants to buy.”
“Thanks, but uh, Val?” She uttered some sort of acknowledgement. “Not to sound ungrateful—because I am not! But, uh, why did you give the lead to me?”
Her laugh was somewhere between patronizing and sinister. “Nancy and Roy gave me your cut—you know if you want leads I get twenty dollars a commission right? Well, they paid me for you. They asked for you to get the next lead that comes in. But, you gotta know this. It might be a shitty lead. I just take down the information. So, it is a craps shoot.”
Pleasantries complete, Val confirmed there was no fax from Mr. Daniels waiting for me. This had to be the first conversation I ever had with her consisting of more than two sentences.
I called Mr. Taylor. A pleasant man with an even more pleasant Southern accent answered, identified himself as said person. Recently divorced, he moved here for a job opportunity. Could I help him find something modestly nice in Peoria
Then, because Don Kublensy said two nights ago in the video I watched, Buyers are Liars, I asked him about funding for this modestly nice place he would be buying, suggesting he call his bank and I gave him Jet’s number. He promised to do both and our talk ended with a few more yes ma’ams, a (this was so cool!) “Miss Tina” and a meeting set for tomorrow at Metro Realty Pros’s office at eleven.
My next call was to Mr. Daniel’s voice mail, cheerfully reminding him I was waiting for his fax and offering, what I hoped, was a deep-felt concern for his domestic situation.
Afterwards, I called the four agents I knew who showed Lillian’s home over the weekend. I thought if they could tell me something to help me sell her condo faster, I wanted to know. It was all positive feedback. The home was great. It was priced well. But, the buyers in every case weren’t interested enough to make an offer. I wrote down everything and called Lillian with my feedback.
Her response didn’t disappoint. “You called the agents? Oh, how clever of you. But, I am not worried about how fast it sells. I have every confidence in you and your abilities. It will happen at the right time.” She paused. “And, Tina, thank you so much for following up with those agents. It was a brilliant idea.”
I hung up with my cheeks flushed from Lillian’s praise. I was loving this. Price Bargains was a modest job with modest pay. But, it had gotten to the point where I was making at least one half more just on my commissions from the products I sold. I found commission sales motivating—more than I ever expected. Sales, I thought, examining myself in the mirror before heading out the door, was something I could do and (so far) not screw up.
I opened the door to a blast furnace of an August day. It was only nine, but it had to be over one hundred degrees. I could feel the sweat pooling behind my hair as I made the short walk from my door to the car. Even this early, the car’s metal door handle was so hot, I used one joint of my index finger to open it.
I winced as I sat down on my leather seat, wishing my dress was a bit longer to protect my legs. I had a mental picture of me peeling baked flesh off the seat some time down the road. I needed a towel or a seat cover or something before I suffered first degree burns.
I had already started the car and the air conditioning when Matt knocked on my passenger window. I was less than enthusiastic about rolling down the window and letting the cool air escape. Nor was I wasn’t anxious to see him. If his lecture on Saturday hadn’t cinched it, the thoroughly pissed off expression on his face yesterday when I came back with Jet’s Jeep did.
“How’s it going?” he asked, mouth tight, eyes non-committal when I finally rolled down the window. I uttered something about being in a hurry and he stepped away, face still level with mine, keeping his hands on the door (how they weren’t getting seared by the metal, I don’t know).
“Will you come by tonight?” This time it was an invitation.
“I have the later shift at Price Bargains.”
“I am up late. I will wait for you. Besides,” he said, enticement in his voice and a small smile on his face, “I can cook.”
That made precisely one of us. His peace offering and the promise of nourishment coming from some place other than the freezer section won out. I promised to show up right after my shift.
Walking into Metro Realty Pros I felt ecstatic. I had clients. I had potential to get my bills paid and I had friends—albeit one was unaccounted for. Yes, other than a few pesky (and somewhat major) details, moving to Phoenix
I walked past Val, phone receiver plastered to her ear and smack into Wendy. After a sincere, “excuse me” from me, and a nod of acknowledgement from Wendy (I reasoned, “I beg your pardon” was too much of a strain) I told her I was taking a buyer out tomorrow. She didn’t hide her astonishment. “Wow. That’s great. Are you sure you are ready?”
I assured her there was no time like the present and I was positive I could handle it. “Besides,” I needled, “Dee , Sebastian, Nancy and Roy have all been great to me. I couldn’t ask for better mentors.” Yes, it was meant as bitchy, even though—as any card-carrying woman would tell you—it didn’t come out that way.
Contempt spread across Wendy’s face. And a part of me—the part apparently needing to go to confession very soon—was happy to see it. “Well, it looks like you have it covered,” she simpered.
I couldn’t resist. “Oh yes, and I am so glad you told me about getting a team together. Thank you so much!” I just about ran out to get my hip boots. “I already put my buyer in touch with my loan officer. Jet Tyson.”
Wendy excused herself back to her office, loudly closing the door. I walked into the bullpen and Dee was laughing.
“I heard everything you said to her,” she said giving me a one-armed hug. “You are good!”
“What happened,” asked Nancy Dee graciously ran over and filled her in while I took the call.
My caller, it turns out, happened to be Chip from Windows and More. After I finished quizzing him about a name like Chip matching with his occupation (something I am certain he must be used to) he explained how he had gotten a call from Mr. Daniels who needed some windows installed and to call me for the address.
I gave him the address, wondering why Mr. Daniels just didn’t do it.
Two minutes later, I had him on the phone. “Hi Mr. Daniels, this is Tina again.”
“Oh, hi Tina how are you? By the way, I gave your name to a window company. It seems there is a broken window at the house you are listing for me and I want to get it fixed.”
Was he for real? I sent him a detailed list of everything needing to be done to this house. There was no “it seemed” on this list!
I thanked him, assuring him Chip (I did an internal titter) called. “I wanted to let you know, I am at the office and your paperwork hasn’t come back yet. Will you be faxing it over?” I was tentative, hoping I was coming across as humble.
“I faxed it back.” He said with a note of astonishment. “Can you go check?”
I popped up front, checking the fax machine and my mail box. Val was still on the phone, intently filing her nails. “Nope, nothing here.” I said, walking back to the bullpen. I added, “Could you fax it again? I can’t help you until we have something in writing.”
This last comment did not bode well with Mr. Daniels. But, I decided, I had one listing already and a potential buyer tomorrow. Anyone who worked with Amy probably had sold their soul anyway. But, just to make sure I meant it, I added, “I am in the office right now. I will even go wait by the fax machine.”
“I am not in my office right now.” He countered. “But, I can fax it later. It will be there today,” he promised.
Dee and Nancy were waiting for me when I hung up. “I just talked to a guy named Chip who works for a window company.” I said matter of factly.
“You’ll get used to weird things,” Dee said.
It turns out, Nancy and Dee were hungry and thought we should do a pow-wow at Selmas. I opted out, explaining about tomorrow’s pending appointment with Mr. Taylor.
“Oh no you don’t. You need to eat!” Nancy
After ordering at Selma ’s, Nancy Dee complimented me on asking all the right questions (thank you Mr. Kublensy). And, Nancy
Real estate chores done in record time, we sat and ate, talking about girly things. Dee is in her late forties. Nancy California
On my way to Price Bargains I left a message for Jet, letting him know Mr. Taylor might be calling and we were looking tomorrow. I mentioned getting together for lunch and perhaps including Amy just to be nice. I wasn’t sure he would buy it. I certainly didn’t. But, I owe Jet more than just lunch for yesterday’s new tires.
At nine-sixteen that night, I pulled into my driveway to see Matt, arms crossed, leaning against my private apartment door. Even with the headlights shining right at him, probably blinding him, he looked cool and confident.
“I didn’t want you to forget.” He said as I reached him, key in hand. Even with the small amount of light from the streetlamp I could see him smiling. Apparently he was aiming for conciliatory.
I originally planned on dropping my real estate papers on my table, changing clothes, pulling my hair into a frumpy pony tail and taking off my make-up before heading across the street. But, as Matt, who looked very good in his Levis
Dinner was grilled pork chops, mashed potatoes and steamed asparagus. The conversation was good, with me telling him about my potential buyer and updating him on Mr. Daniels and Chip.
He gave me the rundown on his trip at the end of last week. Vegas for a series of meetings on Friday, but first he met his former brother-in-law, who lives in Vegas, for blackjack on Thursday. I marveled at how he still remained friends with Marlene’s family, explaining I was more than happy to ditch Preston ’s family—especially his dolphin faced mother.
Matt threw back a hearty laugh, “Yea, I guess it is unusual.” His tone changed. Shifting in his chair, he began, “I didn’t mean to offend you on Saturday. I don’t think I said what I was thinking the right way.”
I took the opening, in a way to make Mother proud, “I am sure, just like me, you have Laura’s best interests at heart.”
“It wasn’t Laura’s interests I was thinking of.” He replied softly, looking intently at me. “You know, Laura is safe. She is out of harm’s way working out whatever she needs to work out. You are the one staying there.” He said, motioning toward Laura’s home. “You are the one who was attacked.”
“I don’t think they are coming ba—”
He cut me off. “Don’t be too sure about that. Look, you are welcome to hang out here if you would feel safer. I have an extra bedroom.”
I assured him I was fine. Besides, I doubted either of us would be off the market more than another forty-five minutes maximum if I camped over. And, I wasn’t ready for that. Which seemed funny, given how much in the past I enjoyed being on the market.
The truth was, I thought Matt was pretty special. And, I wanted to be ready for him. But, more than that, if we were ever to get together, I wanted him to be ready for me.
He brought me back to Earth, “The alarm is always set, right?”
“It is now.”
Matt changed direction again, “So, who’s the guy with the Jeep?” I could tell he had planned his question to be much more casual than it came out.
I couldn’t hide my amusement. “It was Jet.”
He raised his eyebrows. Matt sat back from the table. “I was expecting this Jet guy to look more…well, less…clean shaven. Kinda like a beach bum,” he explained. “You said he was a pro beach volleyball player.” His voice had a hint of accusation. Maybe it was me, but this sounded a heck of a lot like jealousy.
“You guys didn’t do any introductions while you were standing there?”
“He said his name was Jayson. When I got up and saw someone messing with your car. He told me you had a couple of flat tires, so I helped him. I didn’t ask what he was doing at your house at that hour.” He sounded a teensy bit hurt.
Skipping over the non-essentials, like Jimmy calling and anything Carl related, I explained how I woke up to two flat tires and I had an errand to run. Jet was kind enough to leave Holly and loan me his Jeep. When I came back the tires were changed.
“I didn’t expect the tires would be taken care of.” I said innocently, hoping to deflect the obvious question on Matt’s lips.
“What was the errand?” he said coolly. The same vocal tone starting our tiff two days earlier. Answering him would not make things between us better.
I sighed, probably a bit too loud. Matt waited. Finally I said with a flirty smile, “I had a great time tonight. Thank you for inviting me over and, thank you so much for dinner.”
“What was the errand?”
I looked at him, silently pleading with him to drop it.
“What was the errand?” he repeated.
“It was of a personal nature. I would rather not talk about it.” I explained with as much conviction as I could muster.
“What was the errand?”
I blew out a breath. “I needed tampons. Ok?” I replied.
“I give up,” he said, shaking his head in defeat.
When it was time to go, Matt walked me home. And, instead of seeing me to the door, he went through Laura’s house, checking doors and windows. I let him out, thanking him again for dinner. He smiled a lazy smile and grabbed my fingers. “Miss Cavanaugh, it was a pleasure.” He said, kissing the back of my hand.
It was just as I was drifting off to sleep something came to me. It was like a fuzzy picture at first, becoming sharper and sharper as I dwelled on it. It was Matt’s words during dinner, “You know, Laura is safe. She is out of harm’s way working out whatever she needs to work out.”
I decided two things. One, Matt knows where she is. And two, if Laura wanted me to know, she would call me. The second thought wasn’t as well received.
No comments:
Post a Comment