by Robin Stone
“Does what suck?”
“Living here. With me.” He gave me his lopsided grin.
“No, dumbass, it doesn’t suck. But I’ll miss hearing you sing off-key in the shower every morning.”
“Fuck you,” he said, grinning.
“I’m not going anywhere just yet,” I said. “Gotta find a house first.”
“You’ve been looking, though,” he said. “Online, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, have her show you some houses. She knows the area really well, right?”
I picked up the bottle of syrup and poured more on my pancakes. “I guess.”
“You guess? What aren’t you telling me?”
“She doesn’t sell shitty little houses I can afford, remember? She sells mansions. Big fuckin’ houses with seven bedrooms and three-car garages. That’s how she makes her money.”
“Yeah, I know. And that’s how she affords a gigolo.”
I balled up my napkin and tossed it at his face. It hit him on the chin, then fell onto his plate.
“Damnit! That’s my breakfast!”
“You deserved it.” I took my last few bites and scraped my chair back. “We gotta get going. Traffic’s been awful with the spring road construction.”
I brought my plate and mug to the counter, loaded my dishes into the dishwasher, and Liam did the same. He could be a pain in the ass, but we made a good team. He had my back for the last several years. Between parties, watching sports on TV, and hanging out at Cooper’s, he was always around.
I was looking forward to buying a house, but it would be sad to move away from Liam. Stepping into my work boots, I started tying them.
“So, tell me something,” Liam said as he put on his Red Sox hat. “She got any friends who need to hire a gigolo?”
I reached over and snatched the hat from his head.
“Give it back!”
But I threw my arm around his neck and put him into a headlock.
“Take it back!” I taunted him.
He struggled in my grip and muttered something.
“What?” I asked, loosening my grip.
“I said, I’m sorry I’m not a gigolo, too.”
“Jerk,” I said. “I gotta get to work, but I’ll kick your ass at darts later.”
Besides our group dart tournaments, Liam and I had a long-running competition going. Liam had won a hundred and seventy-five games, and I’d won a hundred seventy-seven. He was slightly better than me, so I loved being ahead of him. The loser had to pay for the night’s drinks.
Liam gave me shit all the way out to my truck, and I gave it right back.
The day was a busy one. I replaced several light bulbs in the stairway and storage areas and mopped the tile floor in the lobby, keeping an eye out for Brooke. Several tenants and visitors came and went, and none of them looked me in the eye. I was part of the woodwork to these people, which is partly why Brooke stood out to me—she looked at me and smiled.
Well, her killer curves didn’t hurt one bit, either.
A tall man in a suit walked through the lobby, talking on his phone.
“I don’t care,” he said. “Add another seventy thousand to the offer. That’s chump change.”
He got on the elevator, still arguing with the person on the other end of the phone.
Chump change—I shook my head. I didn’t even make that much in a year. What would it be like, I wondered, to be so cavalier with money?
I finished mopping and looked around the lobby to admire my work. Mopping the lobby was satisfying, even though it would get dusty from foot traffic by the end of the day.
I was sitting in the break room for lunch when my phone buzzed with a text. My heart leaped when I saw it was from Brooke.
Can you come by my unit? I have something to give you.
I looked at my watch. I had enough time. Riding the elevator to her floor, I wondered what she wanted. Thankfully, her hallway was empty. I didn’t want anyone to see me going in without a ladder or a tool belt. I knocked on her door and heard heels clicking, and the door swung open.
“Come in, Evan,” she said, looking gorgeous in a blue knee-length dress that showed off every curve.
“Hey,” I said, closing the door behind me. “You look great.”
It was exactly the right thing to say. She smiled.
“Thank you.”
“You wanted to see me?” I stuffed my hands into my pockets, suddenly feeling awkward. “I only have a few minutes.”
“Of course.” She picked up an envelope from the counter and handed it to me.
“What’s this?”
“Money,” she said simply. “You need more dressy clothing for the next two weeks. Buy some pants and blazers, shoes, and you’ll need a suit and some ties.”
The envelope was open, so I peeked inside. There was a thick stack of hundreds.
“Brooke, this is way too much.”
“No, it isn’t. You’ll be going to Blaine’s Apparel downtown. You know where that is?”
I nodded. Blaine’s Apparel was an expensive men’s clothing store. I knew exactly where it was, even though I never set foot in the place.
“I can go later when I get off work.”
“Good. And I wanted to talk to you about our sleeping arrangements.”
My cock twitched. Now we were talking.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Are you still interested in sleeping over?” Her dark eyebrow arched, and my skin heated.
“Yes.”
“I was thinking...it’s probably not a great idea for you to come and go from this condo every day.”
Shit, I didn’t think of that. “That’s true.”
“I’ve arranged for a suite at the Carlisle for two weeks. It’s perfect timing since I’m having new carpet installed in my bedrooms.”
“But...isn’t that expensive?” I asked, mentally calculating the cost of a room there, never mind a suite.
“It’s perfectly fine. It’s just for a short time, and you won’t be seen coming and going at all hours.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I folded the envelope and stuffed it into my back pocket.
“I’ll need your services tomorrow night. It’s a little get together at my boss’ house. I’ll text you the address.”
“Right.”
I wanted so badly to touch her, but she looked so clean and unwrinkled. I probably had dust on my uniform from mopping and working in the grimy supply closet.
Heat and electricity arced between us. I took a step closer, my gaze focusing on the perfect bow of her upper lip.
“I want to kiss you right now, but I won’t,” I said. “Not on the clock.”
I lifted my right hand—I’d washed my hands before I came up—and brushed her hair behind her ear. She sucked in a breath, and I caught a hint of her perfume. I leaned forward, so my mouth was by her ear.
“And I intend to find out what you wear beneath your clothes,” I murmured. I started to move away, but she put her hands on my shoulders.
“I was hoping for a quick kiss.” She was breathing faster now, and her lashes fluttered—she was damn near swooning.
“I don’t want to mess up your lipstick…yet.”
A needy moan slipped out of her mouth. Slipping out of her grasp, I headed for the door before an embarrassing bulge grew in my pants. I looked over my shoulder as I left.
“Gotta run.”
She grasped the kitchen counter like she needed to steady herself.
The door clicked shut behind me as I walked to the elevator, chuckling like a fool.
Seven
After work, I drove downtown to the suit shop. Opening the door, a bell tinkled to announce my presence. I looked around and immediately regretted coming here in my work shirt and pants.
The place looked high end with gleaming wood floors, nice lighting, and several mannequins dressed in suits. I felt self-conscious about the name tag on my shirt. An older man
in a dark suit and red tie approached.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking me over. His gaze stopped on my name tag.
“Yes, I need to get measured for a suit.”
He frowned. “I don’t think we have anything in your style.”
I paused, a ball of dread forming in my stomach. This guy was gonna give me a hard time, but I wasn’t having it. I took a few more steps and looked at a mannequin.
“How about this suit?” I asked.
The door tinkled, and another man came in. He was wearing dressy pants, a button-down shirt, and a tie. The salesman straightened his tie.
“I don’t think that particular suit is for you. It’s quite pricey. Excuse me.” He walked over to the other customer. “Can I help you, sir?”
My hands tightened into fists. I looked around the store but saw no one else.
Fuck this place! I didn’t want to spend Brooke’s money with this asshole. I yanked open the door and walked out, storming up the sidewalk just to get away. I kept walking past the other shops without a destination in mind.
I must have looked furious, because a woman walking a small dog made a wide circle when passing me. I unclenched my fists and tried to relax my jaw, but kept walking for several minutes.
I passed a vendor selling hot pretzels out of a cart. A dad and a small boy were buying pretzels. Long shadows from the buildings shaded the sidewalk in the late afternoon sun as a group of giggling teenaged girls passed me. I saw a sign for Spring Street, and it jogged something in my memory.
Brooke. I stopped and pulled out my wallet, pawing through the discount cards until I found the business card I was looking for.
Brooke Sinclair
Turner Real Estate
45 Spring Street
That’s where I’d seen Spring Street. I stuffed her card back in my wallet and turned down Spring Street. It was a quieter street off Main with sidewalks on just one side. I passed an art shop and an antique shop with a big banner announcing SALE TODAY!
The buildings a little further down were smaller. I saw twenty-five on a building and kept walking. A large brick home held a dental office. There were several Victorian homes next. Large and ornate, they had wide wraparound front porches, and one had a turret with curved windows.
Stopping in front of a dark green house with the number forty-five, I climbed the front stairs and saw a small sign near the door.
First & Second floor - Turner Real Estate
Third Floor - Murphy & Cahill Law Office
I paused. Why the hell was I here? To tell Brooke I’d been treated like a second-class citizen in the suit shop? I almost wanted to give her the money back, tell her I’d changed my mind, but I thought about Matty and sighed. I wished for a stable home for me and Matty—a home that was calm and free of stress and tension.
I opened the front door. The inside was cool, and the floor was covered in thick maroon carpeting. There was a staircase to my right, and to my left was a woman sitting at a desk, wearing glasses and typing on a computer keyboard. She looked up and smiled when I approached.
“Can I help you?”
Her blonde hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her face looked friendly.
“Yes, I’m looking for Brooke. Is this her office?”
“It is, but she’s out at a showing. Would you like to make an appointment?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll just give her a call. Thanks.”
I turned to leave, heading toward the door when she spoke again.
“You’re Evan, aren’t you?”
I turned around and looked at her. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“The name tag, and...she told me about you.”
Oh, damn. “Brooke told you about me?”
She nodded and stood. “I’m Julia, her assistant.”
I walked back and held out my hand. She gave it a girlish squeeze.
“What, uh...what did she say about me?”
Up close, Julia looked very young. Her face was unlined, and she had a cluster of freckles on her nose and cheeks.
“Brooke said you were a friend who’d be escorting her to some upcoming events.” Julia smiled and pushed her glasses up her nose. “She didn’t say you’d be stopping by today.”
Friend, huh? I searched Julia’s face for judgment, but I didn’t see any.
“Yeah, I was just walking down Main Street when I noticed Spring Street...” I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “Listen, do you know any place I can get a suit?”
“Did you go to Blaine’s Apparel ? They have the best suits in the area.”
“Yeah. I went. And I left. They were ass… they were rude. The guy walked right past me and helped another customer.”
Julia’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s unusual. The shop usually gives top-notch customer service.”
“I went in there with plenty of cash. They just never gave me a chance.”
Julia considered that for a second. She took her glasses off and looked me up and down.
“It’s four-thirty. I know Blaine’s stays open until six on weekdays. Just give me five minutes to close up, and we’ll go back together.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She held her hand up. “Brooke would want me to help you with this. I don’t mind closing early. I’ll just forward the phone to my cell. I’ll be ready to go in just a minute.”
“Okay.”
I wasn’t a fan of going back to that shop, Julia woman seemed sure she could help me. I stuck my hands in my pockets and looked around the entry. There was an oval decorative mirror on the wall, and beside an oval mirror were plaques listing Top Selling Agent of the Year. I noticed Brooke’s name listed as the top-selling agent for the last five years.
I made a mental note to razz her about it, then spotted another row of plaques for Outstanding Customer Service and Agent of the Year. Again, Brooke’s name was listed several times.
Julia turned off her computer and stuffed some folders in a drawer. She picked up a purse and walked over to me.
“Brooke wins a lot of these awards, huh?”
“Oh yes,” Julia said. “She’s on track to win the top sales award for this year, too.”
I grinned. “Bet she was the teacher’s pet in school.”
“She was in the top five percent of her class at grad school.”
Grad school. I had taken a few classes at the local community college, but I never finished because I ran out of money. I was so proud of Matty for doing what I couldn’t.
I followed Julia out the door into the bright sunlight. I blinked in the glare, suddenly remembering I’d walked from the suit shop.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m parked down by the suit shop. I walked here.”
Julia withdrew a giant pair of sunglasses and put them on, shielding her eyes.
“That’s fine, we can walk. It’s a nice day.”
I peered at her tall heels, wondering how she’d maneuver the bumpy downtown sidewalks, but she hitched her bag over her shoulder and started walking. We didn’t speak as we walked down the quiet street. I felt out of place walking beside her in my work uniform and scuffed work boots.
“How long have you known Brooke?” I asked.
“Seven years.”
A man in a suit walked toward us. He glanced at me, then his gaze slowly scanned Julia. When we passed, he gave her a wide smile, but she ignored him.
“So...Brooke told you about me?”
Her lips quirked. “Yes, she did.”
We both dodged around a dog on a leash sniffing the sidewalk. I waited for her to add more, but she didn’t.
“Like what?”
“Evan Handler. Twenty-seven years old. Lives at an apartment on Western Avenue with roommate Liam McKenzie. One younger brother, Matthew, currently at the University of Vermont. No arrests. One parking ticket. Currently employed as a maintenance worker at one-sixty Brookdale Avenue.”
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stare
d at her. She stopped and let out a long sigh and took off her sunglasses.
“Evan. Did you really think that Brooke wouldn’t check into you before your arrangement?”
My face heated. “Well… I…”
Julia put her sunglasses back on and started walking briskly. I had to jog a few steps to catch up.
“Brooke Sinclair is a very busy woman. I had to check into your background to make sure you were...appropriate. Her upcoming engagements are very important.”
I considered this and wondered why she chose me, instead of hitting up some rich dude who probably owned several suits. Julia’s phone rang, and she fished it out of her bag.
“Hello? Hi. Listen, I can’t talk right now. I’m right in the middle of something. I’ll call you later. Yes. Yes. Okay.”
She hung up as we walked up to the door of the suit shop. I opened the door, and we both stepped inside. The same jerk came gliding over to us, completely ignoring me, but smiling broadly for Julia.
“Can I help you, miss?”
“I need to speak to the owner.”
The man’s smile dropped from his face. “Mr. Blaine is very busy right now, Miss. Can I help you with something?”
Julia frowned. “I need to speak to him right away. Tell him it’s Julia Nichols from Turner Real Estate.”
The man scurried off. A few other customers milled around. Heaviness lodged in my gut like I’d swallowed a rock. I grew up pretty broke and knew the routine in a place like this. These sales guys were always going to look down their noses at me.
“Listen, isn’t there somewhere else we can go?” I asked.
“No, I’ll take care of this.”
A tall man in a brown suit came over. “How can I help you, miss?”
Julia touched my arm. “This man came into your shop a short time ago and your salesman refused to help him.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss...?”
“Julia Nichols. I’m Brooke Sinclair’s assistant.”
His eyes raked me over, then he plastered on a smile that was a bit too wide.
“My apologies,” he said. “We’ll take care of this right away. Follow me.”
We followed him across the store to a pair of dressing rooms. He signaled to another salesman, who came over with a tape measure. Julia sat in a chair by a tall mirror and checked her phone.
