by Laura Wolfe
Two minutes later, a petite brunette wearing black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt burst through the front door. The woman was out of breath and looking around, confused.
“Kelly?” I asked.
“Yes.” She smiled and shook my hand. “I’m sorry for being late. I couldn’t find anywhere to park.”
37
I kicked my sweaty gym shoes off my feet, closing the door to my condo behind me. My quads and triceps already felt sore thanks to my recent workout with Cyrek. Admittedly, the four pounds I’d lost were more likely due to the euphoric haze of new love. Who needed food, anyway? The late-night pizza slices and stolen handfuls of Reese’s Pieces that used to comfort me were silly indulgences compared to the security of Damon’s arms. My phone buzzed from my gym bag, and I pulled it out. Jacqueline.
“Hi.”
“It’s been a long week already. Get a drink with me.” Jacqueline spoke in a forceful voice. She must have been feeling better since I’d spotted her in the lobby of Haley’s building this afternoon.
My throat tightened. “I’m going to hang out with my boyfriend tonight.” I laced my fingers together, the word “boyfriend” feeling weird on my tongue.
“Boyfriend?” she asked, emphasizing the word. “Sounds serious.”
My cheeks flushed. Damon and I finally had the girlfriend-boyfriend conversation a few days earlier. I still couldn’t believe he wanted to be with me exclusively. Remembering Jacqueline’s disdain for relationships, I backtracked. “We started dating a couple of weeks ago.”
“Ha! I thought your face had an especially rosy glow lately.”
I swallowed, not sure how to respond.
Jacqueline sighed dramatically. “Mara. It’s only a drink. Don’t make me drink alone. Meet me at Drumbar at eight o’clock. You can meet up with your boyfriend later.”
“Okay.” My lungs deflated as I said the word. It was easier to agree with her. As much as her behavior bothered me, I also felt sorry for her. Her boyfriend had moved an ocean away, and she only had a couple of friends. Not to mention parents who’d disowned her. Besides, maybe I could finally convince her to cut me in on Arlington on the Park, even with Kevin still in the picture.
Two hours later, I exited the cramped elevator and walked through the mahogany-walled entrance of the Streeterville lounge. Bottles of alcohol lined the metallic shelves behind the bar, and a bartender mixed drinks for a crowd of young professionals still wearing their work clothes. A few of them resembled my former co-workers at Averly. I scanned the room for any familiar faces but came up empty. Then I searched for Jacqueline but didn’t see her either. The beat of techno music pounded from outside, so I made my way to the rooftop. Jacqueline lounged on a cushioned chair across from an outdoor fireplace and sipped a drink.
“Mara,” she said, giving me a half-wave. She pointed to the cushion of the chair across from her, and I sunk into it.
A gazelle-like waitress wove her way toward us, her tall, thin frame gracefully avoiding drunken patrons.
“Can I get a drink for you?” she asked.
“Have one of these,” Jacqueline insisted, pointing to her drink. “It’s whiskey and ginger and some other things mixed in. So good.”
I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll have the same thing.”
The waitress smiled and nodded before gliding back through the crowd.
“Tough day, huh?” I asked.
“Not really. It’s just that working all the time gets to me after a while.”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“Did the woman ever show up this afternoon for Haley’s place?” She swirled the ice around in her glass.
“Yeah. I think she liked it. She wants to see a few more condos before making a decision.”
“Good. Let’s get that place sold.”
“I didn’t see any carpet stain.”
“I know.” She looked out at the skyline and took a long sip of her drink. “That’s what I told Haley.”
The waitress reappeared and handed me a drink. “Here you go. Anything else?”
“Not right now, thank you,” Jacqueline answered for me.
Two guys in ripped jeans and T-shirts strode over and claimed the chairs next to ours. Although they were about my age, they didn’t fit with the young-professional crowd from the lounge. Sleeves of tattoos covered the arms of a darker-haired guy, accentuating his muscles. He sat across from me, dangerously close to Jacqueline. His eyes were the most unusual shade of green, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was a model. He looked at me and smiled before turning back to his friend.
My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected attention, although he wasn’t my type. And I had a boyfriend.
The guy pulled out a cigarette and leaned back, legs casually splayed open.
“Do you have a light?” he asked me.
“No. Sorry,” I said.
“Lovely,” Jacqueline said under her breath.
I wasn’t sure if she was referring to the cigarette or the tattoos or the fact that two hot men chose to sit right next to us. Probably all three.
Jacqueline cleared her throat and redirected our conversation back to real estate. We picked apart Natalia’s sales numbers and discussed how Jacqueline could continue to surge ahead in the next few weeks.
“I can’t wait to replace her picture on that CBR billboard with mine.” Jacqueline closed her eyes and smiled as if she was picturing the new billboard in her mind. “Don’t worry, Mara. When I win Top Producer, it will ignite both of our careers.”
I nodded, knowing it was true. Emma’s bills wouldn’t be an issue.
“Will my picture be on the billboard, too?” I asked her with a laugh.
Jacqueline smiled but didn’t respond.
I gulped too much of my whiskey drink and started coughing. The weight of someone’s eyes hovered over me. When I looked up, the male model was staring at me. He smiled again, and I looked away. I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Maybe before I met Damon, I would have played this game, but not now.
The drinks disappeared quickly. Jacqueline ordered another round.
“I heard HGTV is going to start filming Natalia’s reality show next week. It’s called, SOLD,” I said.
Jacqueline rolled her eyes and took a swig of her drink.
“What a dumb name,” I added.
“You know what, Mara? Let Natalia have her reality show. I think it will hurt her sales numbers.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Most high-end buyers don’t want to be on TV. They want to keep their wealth private. Natalia’s show will win her some Euro-trash and new-money clients. Everyone else will come to me.”
“You’re probably right.” I hadn’t thought about it like that before, but it made sense.
When I looked up, the dark-haired guy with the exotic eyes was honed-in on me again, his muscles flexing under his tattoos. He looked like someone who knew what he was doing. I stared into the flickering flames of the fire.
“Mara. Earth to Mara.” Jacqueline jolted me back to our conversation.
“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Obviously.”
The drinks had gone right through me. “I’m going to run to the bathroom. Be right back.” I got up and dug my way through the crowd, techno music pounding in my ears. When I emerged from the ladies’ room a minute later, the male model was standing in front of me. He reached out and squeezed my arm.
“Hey. Want to dance?”
“Oh, thanks, but not really.” I stepped to the side, trying to get past him, but he touched me again. He smiled and leaned closer.
“Come on. I love this song.” His sex-filled eyes held onto me, pleading.
“I have a boyfriend.”
The guy shrugged. “He’s not here. Is he?”
I pressed my lips together and looked away.
“Come on. It’s just one dance. Then you can go back to your friend.”
My feet shifted, as my eyes
traveled to the people laughing and bouncing on the dance floor. It was only one song. There was no harm in enjoying some attention for a few minutes. I nodded.
“I’m Juan.”
“Mara.” Guilt tugged at my gut. I was flirting with an attractive man while Damon was in a library studying somewhere.
Juan grabbed my hand and led me to the rooftop where the DJ was spinning. He turned toward me and pulsated his hips to the beat of the music. There was nothing I could do now without being rude. Besides, the attention was flattering, and it wasn’t like Damon and I were married.
After a couple of long minutes, the song came to an end. Juan circled his arms around me and leaned all his weight against my body, almost knocking me off balance. I clutched his shoulders to keep from falling, both of us chuckling at our clumsiness. Another song pounded through the speakers, people around us jumping up and down to the beat. I stepped backward, eager to get back to my seat. Juan stepped in front of me and set his jaw, his eyes locking onto mine. And then he kissed me. Right on the lips. He even slid in his tongue. It took me a second to realize what was happening and why I had to stop it. Damon’s face flashed through my mind again. My back stiffened, and I pushed the stranger away. I scanned the rooftop as my face burned. Jacqueline hovered a few feet away, mouth open. She’d seen the whole thing.
I scurried toward her, my heart pounding. “Let’s go.”
“I already paid.” She walked toward the elevator, and I followed close behind, the DJ’s next song pounding in my ears.
As soon as the elevator doors slid open, I dove inside, banging the button for the lobby with my fist. The doors couldn’t close fast enough. I needed to get out of there, back to Damon. Jacqueline stared straight ahead, expressionless.
“Lucky your boyfriend didn’t see that.”
As the elevator lurched downward, I inhaled deep breaths of stale air and pressed my back against the wall. I didn’t risk opening my mouth to speak for fear of getting sick. Jacqueline sighed.
My stomach turned with the downward fall of the elevator, my own betrayal burning inside me. But something else had fueled the sickening feeling in my gut. As we plummeted toward the ground floor, Jacqueline’s lips twitched, almost as if she was trying to suppress a smile.
◆◆◆
The chaotic buzz of the office before the weekly meeting was calmer today, like someone had dimmed the lights and turned down the volume a few notches. I scribbled a list of people to call as soon as the meeting ended. Damon hadn’t wanted me to come over last night. He had class early this morning, and I’d gotten back from the bar too late, so we’d only talked for a few minutes. I decided not to mention my encounter with the guy at the bar. Telling him would only cause issues, and I didn’t have time to deal with that. My head throbbed, and I wished I hadn’t agreed to meet Jacqueline the night before. I hadn’t even had a chance to bring up Arlington on the Park.
I studied the list of people I needed to call. First, there was an attorney who was threatening to kill one of my deals over a couple of minor inspection issues. On another deal, my client’s lender was dragging his feet on the appraisal. We needed to get that today. Hopefully, Kevin wasn’t expecting me to ride on caravan with him again. I didn’t have time. People talked in hushed whispers around me.
“Okay, everyone. Quiet, please.” Maeve said, calling the meeting to order. I cocked my head, her normally powerful voice sounding shaky and delicate. “Some of you may have heard. I have some very sad news to share. One of our long-time agents, Kevin Lucas, has passed away.”
My stomach dropped to the floor. I planted my hands on the desk in front of me, holding myself up. Maybe I’d misheard Maeve. I turned and looked back toward Kevin’s desk, half expecting to see him there. It sat empty. A stack of folders lay neatly piled next to his office phone like a snapshot of his last day at work. A wave of gasps and shaking heads rippled through the office. Jacqueline sat next to me, wide-eyed. Her mouth gaped open.
Maeve coughed, then cleared her throat. “Kevin suffered from a very severe shellfish allergy. He had an extreme reaction to something he ate.”
More hushed whispers and a few sobs sounded from around the office.
“Oh, my God!” squealed one of the Real Housewives, fanning herself with a flier.
“They found his body in his condo yesterday after he didn’t show up to several appointments.” Maeve shook her head and looked at the floor. “I don’t know anything about the funeral or memorial service at this time, but I will let you all know as soon as I receive that information. In light of everything that’s happened, we are canceling this week’s meeting and caravan. Feel free to go home if you feel you’re not able to work today. I know some of you were close with Kevin.” Maeve shuffled back to her office. A few people packed their bags to leave. Jacqueline sat rigid with her hands clasped in front of her.
“Oh, my God,” I said under my breath, shaking my head. It wasn’t as if I was great friends with Kevin, but he’d been nice enough to me in the past few weeks. He’d welcomed me on caravan. He’d invited to join his Habitat for Humanity group. He’d taken me under his wing to the CCC meeting. He’d even participated in the charity run for Emma. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I’d been using him the whole time. I’d never see him again. I’d never get to apologize or explain myself.
“I’m sorry, Mara.” Oscar stood in front of my desk, wringing his bony hands. “I know you and Kevin were friends. Man, I can’t believe it.” Without waiting for me to respond, Oscar moped out the front door, staring at the ground.
Jacqueline looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed. “It’s a shocker. You okay?”
“Yeah.” My stomach turned over.
She clucked. “Karma finally caught up with the guy, I guess.”
My skin bristled at the insensitivity of Jacqueline’s comment. I shifted away from her, pretending to look at something while I struggled to push down the emotions rising inside me. Outside, people walked past the window in a hurry to get to wherever they were going. The randomness of death weighed on me. I thought of Emma lying in bed, the cancer cells multiplying inside of her. Would she be next? I hated myself for having the thought.
Poor Kevin. He hadn’t had any warning. My watery eyes watched the people outside as the office cleared out. Jacqueline resumed her work.
“I’ve got so much to do today.” She sighed. “Can you input these two listings for me?” She handed me two folders. “I’ll email the photos to you.”
She had recovered quickly from the shock of Kevin’s death. Back to business as usual. I knew she hated the guy, but still, she could show a little compassion.
“Okay.” I spit out the word, but my mind was reeling. I needed to go home. I needed to talk to Damon and hear his voice. “I’m going to work from home today.”
She shot me a sideways glance. “We’ve got a lot to do, Mara.”
“I know. I’ll get it done, but I can’t be here right now.” I shuffled my papers into a pile and stuffed everything into my bag.
Jacqueline shrugged. “Fine. You still need to take that buyer out at 6:00 tonight. Remember?”
“Yeah,” I said, even though I’d forgotten. “I’ll do it.”
She was already on the phone with somebody else.
38
I flipped on the TV and slumped onto my couch. Kevin was gone. He was really dead. Other than my grandma and grandpa passing away, I didn’t have much experience with death. At least they’d lived long lives. We had time to say our goodbyes and hug and cry. An image of the grim reaper formed in my mind, his face hidden by a dark hood, his skeleton-like hands reaching out toward my sister. With Emma, we had some warning. We had time to raise an army and to fight, to delay the inevitable, strangling grip of death. Kevin’s loss was so unexpected. I kept reminding myself that we weren’t even friends.
I picked up my phone to call Damon, to tell him everything but remembered he’d be in class. My laptop rested on the couch next to me. J
acqueline needed me to take out her buyers tonight, and I hadn’t scheduled any of the showings yet. I opened the MLS home page and set up a search for three-bedroom condos and townhomes between $400,000 and $600,000 in Lincoln Park, Lakeview, and Wrigleyville. I typed in some additional criteria to narrow down the results. Her clients were two attorneys, no kids. They would probably want garage parking for two cars. Based on what little I knew about them, they’d require a laundry room and formal dining room.
“A local realtor was found dead in his condo yesterday . . .” The face of the female newscaster stretched across the enormous screen of my new flat-screen TV. She recited the words evenly as if it were just another headline. My fingers froze on the keyboard. The reporter stood on a sidewalk outside of a familiar building. I leaned back and pieced together the images on the screen, the gray brick and tinted glass doors. Haley’s building towered behind the newscaster.
“Kevin Lucas, a long-time realtor with Greystone Realty, died of an apparent shellfish allergy inside his high-rise condo at 35 East Delaware.”
I forced myself to breathe, and the hair on my neck stiffened. I’d known Kevin lived downtown, but I’d never asked him his exact address.
“An EpiPen was found in his condo, but police say he was unable to reach it in time. Approximately twelve million people suffer from food allergies, and about 150 people die from these allergies each year.”
The reporter’s voice faded to the background as she discussed food safety protocols. I planted my feet firmly on the floor, afraid my spinning mind might carry me away. Kevin lived at 35 E. Delaware? I’d been at his building yesterday, just hours before he died. I’d seen Jacqueline there, leaving in a hurry. She’d been acting strangely, nervously even. Then she’d insisted on meeting me for a drink last night. She’d made a point of telling me where she’d been all afternoon. Had she done something to him? Had she figured out a way to let herself into his condo and contaminate his food? Had she moved his EpiPen somewhere he wouldn’t find it? She’d been so angry at Kevin after he’d changed the open house schedule. How far was she willing to go to win Top Producer?
