“Nice, but I could never do what you just showed me. I’d crash a drone like Mercury into a tree, a lamppost, or break a window.”
“Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day. You need pilot training to do it yourself, but while you’re learning you can contract the job out to professionals. That’s what realtors do. Most don’t become pilots, but some do.”
“Oh, that would be expensive. I looked on-line. Pilots like you charge lots of money. $400 an hour and up.” Charley shook her head. “I don’t know if Rachel, my boss, would even consider a video, let alone the expense of hiring someone. Right now she takes all the photos, easy to upload a PowerPoint slideshow to the website, an MLS listing.”
“Sure, but you wouldn’t hire someone to shoot the video for just any old house. But a mansion, a million bucks or more would be worth it. I’ve only shot one. Yes, I charged for it, but guess what, the buyer wanted the video. Bought it to show friends, used it for insurance to prove the pristine state of the property before a hurricane came barreling through. A tornado. Buyers of properties above $500,000 have been known to buy the video from the real estate agent.”
“Good to know,” Charley said, a smile spreading across her face. Her mind was whirling with possibilities. “It would take forever for me to learn what you just did.”
“Take you awhile to be a pilot for sure, but doable. Until then I can help. You pick a small house, say around $200 thousand as a test—easy in Daytona Beach or around, and I’ll shoot the video for you.”
“Michael, I don’t know. That’s very generous of you, but you have a deadline. The Las Vegas conference. I don’t have a spare dime to pay you.”
“How about having dinner with me? I’ll consider that as payment for a two minute clip, a few passes not a lot. That would take the better part of the day. Then that night we go to a nice restaurant. Everyone will ask who that is with Geoffrey Kingman’s daughter on his arm.”
Charley laughed. “I hardly think anyone would know me and—”
“You let me be the judge of that, Miss Charley Kingman.” Michael raised her hand to his lips. “You, Miss Charley Kingman, will be my good-luck charm.”
He leaned in to kiss her but she saw it coming and gracefully slid off the chair away from him.
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Michael walked Charley to the door, yelled goodbye as she descended the stairs to the driveway. “Let me know when you pick out a house.” He watched her drive away as he smiled, and answered his cell.
“What do you want Tyrone? I’m in a business meeting. I told you to stop calling me. I don’t have any dough to pay you…maybe soon. Now leave me alone.”
“Ya, well the big boss said to call. He wants his money.”
“You tell your boss I’m off to Vegas with my business partners. With a little bit of luck at the tables and my presentation at the conference, I’ll be returning with a boatload of Benjamins.”
Michael tapped the little screen ending the call. “So, Mr. Tyrone and boss, you’ll soon be begging me to take your silly money.”
Michael stuffed his phone in his pants pocket and took the stairs two at a time to his room. He felt good about his chat with Charley. He was making inroads to a relationship, a hot relationship with the beautiful Miss Kingman. Who knows maybe even wedding bells in the not too distant future—a gorgeous wife with lots of money in her future.
Chapter 8
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CHARLEY PUSHED OPEN THE plate-glass door to Ramirez Real Estate. The atmosphere was cozy, but elegant at the same time. Two large picture windows flanked the entrance. The first desk, white oak, positioned at an angle so the agent up next could greet visitors. Clustered along the walls, small group settings delineated by tall windows, each anchored with a round coffee table. One or two small tables were placed between the chairs for paper or notepads. Colors were Florida favorites—sand tones on the walls, upholstery creamy with dark blue patterns, and spots of red to orange flowers abundant in the state. Three small desks, white oak, with internet hookups to scroll listings were scattered for private conversations.
Charley smiled, nodding to the temporary greeter on deck this morning. Rachel, sitting at her large desk at the back wall, faced front—her command post overlooking the operation. Two small rooms behind Rachel, windows facing the front, were used for negotiating and privacy.
“Hi, Rachel. Another beautiful—” Charley began to say.
“I put a lead on your desk. The woman called regarding the Thomas property,” Rachel said her bright red lips forming a thin line. Rachel’s signature black dress, sleeveless in the summer, showed a modest view of her thigh.
“Ah, that would be perfect,” Charley said, releasing her shoulder bag to a chair.
“Perfect for what?” Rachel sat back in her chair taping a pen on a pad of yellow paper.
“Have you seen a real estate video online? A video shot by a drone—around the outside of a residential property, the neighborhood, inside, all the rooms?”
“I did look at a few. Nice, but expensive.”
“One of my brother’s partners, Michael Rich, showed me a video he shot of a friend’s house. It was wonderful. How about we pick a property…you pick one and—”
“Charley, a video is nice, but I don’t see it as selling a property any better than the photos I shoot. On our website they appear as a slide show, plus a small grid with fingernail pics so a visitor can click on a particular room or more. No advancing, then—”
“Your photos are great but they can’t show off the property…from the air—”
“Charley, I’m not wasting upward of $800 to God knows what, for something I can do myself.”
“Are you up for an experiment? I think Michael might shoot a video for me, if we give him credit. The guys, my brother and his two partners are debuting their drone at a conference in Las Vegas soon. That mansion in Daytona Beach hasn’t sold. Maybe it’s overpriced but the area is beautiful. How about that one?”
Charley knew she was pushing it. Rachel liked to be in charge of everything regarding the agency. “Come on. Come on, Rachel. Give it try.”
“Look, if this Michael person wants to shoot a video of that relic on his own dime—no investment from this agency—then go for it. Now please follow up on that lead I gave you. The woman said she’s anxious to see that house. And by the way, the other house the Wurthy’s found?”
“What about it?”
“Turns out they bought it from a relative…very cheap. So you really didn’t have a chance.”
“Good to know.” Charley turned away with a smile. She could stop beating herself up for losing the sale, but more important, Rachel wouldn’t pay for a video but she agreed to let Michael shoot the property, take the credit, and show it at the conference. She was a tiny step closer to what she wanted—a video shot with Frank’s drone in a house that was for sale and one of the agency’s listings. Visions filled her head of Michael shooting the video, watching him, taking notes on what worked or didn’t work. But primarily she would pick up how he piloted the hand-held drone from room to room without pushing over a lamp. She could watch how Michael worked the remote, the drone shooting on the outside of a house, but inside had to be tricky. Even though Michael talked about a camera stabilizer, she knew she’d be shaky, hands and legs with every step, let alone twirling around in place.
Chapter 9
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A SOFT KNOCK ON the cabin door woke Charley with a start. A glance at the clock confirmed that she had overslept and if she didn’t hurry she’d be late for work. Muted shadows sweeping the cabin’s murky interior didn’t bother her today. Today was day one of her plan. She had calls to make regarding training to be a drone pilot, after she made a stop at the bookstore.
The second soft knock brought a smile to her face. Slipping her bathrobe on, she opened the door a crack. As she suspected, it was Ricky. His dark brown eyes peered up at her.
“Charley, can we play with the drone?”
“Can’t today my little co-pilot. Maybe this weekend. Okay?”
“Ok.”
“Oops, there’s my phone. Gotta go. Bye.”
Shutting the door she grinned at the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Charley? Michael here.”
“Hi. You’re up with the birds,” Charley said.
“Gotta stay ahead of the competition, my girl. I have a video gig this afternoon. A friend is getting married—reception outside. His bride is taking care of everything, her family with the financial side of the event. My piece is a surprise. I’m using Pigeon—the first prototype your brother built. But don’t get the wrong idea. The little guy is very reliable. I thought you might get a kick at watching the whole process unfold. Would you like to come with me? Be my assistant.”
“Sounds fun, but how could I be considered your assistant? I haven’t a clue how a drone works.”
“Consider it your first class to becoming a pilot.”
“Where’s the wedding? How fancy?”
“Up near St. Augustine. Dress? I’d say a step down from cocktail attire. I’ll be in jeans…new pair. You’d be perfect in slacks with a fancy-dancy top. Where will you be? I’ll pick you up?”
“I have a book on hold at Barnes and Noble. I’ll meet you there. Plenty of parking. Call my cell when you turn into the plaza.”
“Will do, say 12:30ish. That will give me an hour to get the lay of the land. My friend sent me a drawing where the reception will be held—where the wedding cake will be, etcetera. It’s the bride’s home so I don’t need to get permission from the local authorities—just obey the current FCC/TSA guidelines—drones can fly up to 400 feet in the air. I’ll get some great angle shots. Hey, what did your boss, Rachel I think you said, think of the idea of shooting a video of one of the agency’s properties?”
“She’s very skeptical. She definitely won’t fund the project, but she said if you created a short video, she’d give you permission to show it at the conference…after she sees it that is.”
“See you later, gator.”
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Guests parked their cars along the circular driveway on both sides from the road to the front portico. Flower beds edged the grand entrance down to the street. The house was a grand two-story mansion of creamy stucco topped with a red tiled roof. Forest green shutters flanked picture windows, two on either side of the massive oak front door. Michael backed into the last spot at the end of the line of cars.
“This is a beautiful house, Michael. It’s huge,” Charley said as they climbed out of the car.
“The bride’s father is an investment banker. Hang on a second while I get my gear.”
Michael retrieved a black hard-cover backpack from the rear seat and jabbed his fists through the shoulder straps.
“I’m amazed that Pigeon fits in that case. What about the propellers, the remote?” Charley said.
“The propellers snap off and the remote folds up. There are pockets for the batteries. Okay, let’s go.”
A young man dressed in a tuxedo, pink rose boutonniere pinned to his breast pocket, spotted Michael and hustled up to greet him, sticking his hand out. “You must be Michael. I’m Steve. Curtis told me to look out for you, show you around the back. Oh, hi,” Steve said smiling from ear to ear at the pretty woman standing in back of Michael.
“Steve, this is my assistant, Charley Kingman. Lead the way my man. I want to be ready when the bride and groom come outside with the guests.”
“Sure, sure. Follow me. Beautiful day for the wedding isn’t it?”
Steve’s feet moved at a fast clip as he rounded the house to a sweeping lawn bordered by flowering bushes and beyond with a forest of oak trees. With the temperature in the high seventies, the reception was laid out with one large white tent over a buffet table near the terrace. Waiters were bustling about carrying trays laden with finger-food delicacies. Out on the lawn several banquet tables were covered with white tablecloths. Wine glasses sparkled in the sunlight, clustered around large bouquets of flowers predominately pink roses with spikes of blue delphiniums and centered with a colorful bird-of-paradise.
A group of musicians softly played classical pieces under a small tent on the far side—violin, keyboard, flute, and a beautiful golden harp.
The wedding cake, eight tiers, sat in the middle of a round table on the terrace in the shade of the home.
Steve strode past the array of banquet tables to a greenhouse far back off the lawn. A table for Michael to use to assemble the drone was positioned by the entrance.
“Here you go, Michael. Curtis thought you could set up shop here, or whatever you call it. Will the trees be a problem? Curt thought they were far enough away.”
“Not a problem,” Michael said. “Most of the video will be shot from above the tree line. My drone, here, has a telephoto lens.”
“Ok. I’ll leave you then. The wedding party will be seated at the long table where those balloons are tied to the chairs, near the cake.”
Steve left, running toward the terrace where the guests were spilling out of a pair of open French doors.
“Charley, help yourself to a glass of wine over at the food tent. I’m going to set up—calibrate Pigeon with the remote.”
“Can I get a glass for you?” Charley asked.
“Love one and maybe a couple of whatever they’re serving up. Can’t see from here, but I bet it’s good.”
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The last guest snaked through the reception line. The bride, her dress made of yards of white lace and tulle, mingled with her friends. The groom broke away, jogged over to Michael, whispered a few words, both chuckled. He turned and jogged back to his bride.
“And now Charley here goes the first clip.”
Pigeon sat on the flagstone walk to the greenhouse. Michael tapped the launch button. The quadcopter’s blades went from zero to a hot rotation sounding like a hive of bees disturbed from making honey. He hovered, rose a foot off the ground, then shot straight up.
Charley didn’t move holding her breath. Michael’s eyes were riveted on the remote’s display, his fingers manipulating the levers, the buttons, changing the flight path. From her angle, she could see what Pigeon saw below, the camera capturing it all—a wedding with a beautiful bride, a handsome groom, and smartly dressed guests. All were looking up, pointing at the drone high In the sky, circling the landscape and the guests below.
Pigeon performed a loop then returned to home base, hovering to a soft landing at Michael’s feet on the flagstone. Michael snatched a cigarette from his shirt pocket along with a lighter. He took a short drag, released a puff of air and flicked the long butt into the bushes.
Watching him, Charley let out a long breath of air she’d held most of the two minute flight swooping around the guests, zooming in and out of the wedding party. Pigeon captured the bride tossing her bouquet over her shoulder in the last few seconds.
“Oh my God, Michael, that was thrilling. I didn’t dare breathe.”
“Michael chuckled. You ain’t seen nothing yet. Here goes the finale, then we hightail it out of here.”
Charley turned her head, eyes on Michael. “What do you mean hightail it?”
“Like leave the scene in case it doesn’t work out. Curt’s new father-in-law may not be pleased with the friend of his daughter’s new husband.”
Pigeon’s blades came to life. A slight hover, then darting to the sky. Circling once, Pigeon suddenly swooped over the table of the wedding party. POP! POP! POP! POPIDY POP POP! The balloons lost their air. Michael pulled up too late. Pigeon clipped the top of the wedding cake. The bride and groom figurines tumbled down the layers of cake.
The balloons settled on the cream cheese finger sandwiches and colorful melon balls, a few dropped over the finely coiffed bridesmaids’ heads. Charley was horrified as Michael sent signals to Pigeon to fly back to the launch pad, he tapped RETURN HOME, and Pigeon smacked down on the flagstone. Michael quickly stuffed his
loose gear in the backpack, slung it over his shoulder. With Pigeon in one hand, leaving the propellers attached, he grabbed Charley with the other pulling her as he ran down the driveway to where he parked the car.
“Hurry, hurry, get in,” he shouted at Charley as he stashed Pigeon and the backpack in the back seat then climbed in behind the wheel. They took off down the road leaving the wedding reception in chaos. Many guests were upset but most thought it was a hoot and looked forward to the video going viral on YouTube. The bride’s parents, not happy with their daughter’s choice of a husband would have called off the wedding but it was too late. The couple was married and were seen darting out of their reception eager to start their honeymoon, tin cans bouncing from the back bumper of their red Cadillac complements of the groom’s new in-laws.
Charley was mortified as Michael’s late model car in need of a new muffler rumbled down the road. But Michael was laughing so hard tears were rolling down his face as he relived the scene left behind. She too began laughing at the vision of Pigeon nipping the sugary couple off the top of the wickedly high cake. Charley shook her head. It really was a hysterically funny moment as long as she wasn’t the bride. One thing that did stick in her mind was how similar Pigeon was to her toy but seemed way more nimble than Sky Rider.
Chapter 10
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CHARLEY WAS PUMPED. A perpetual grin tickled her lips with the thrill of watching Michael pilot Pigeon at the wedding. Of course, there was the fatal fall from grace when the sugar couple atop the wedding cake took a tumble. She took a breath of the morning air as she pushed open the door to Ramirez Real Estate. She dropped her shoulder bag on a table and strode to Rachel’s desk. Sitting on the visitor’s chair, heels tapping the floor, she waited for Rachel to finish the telephone call. Her boss, hair pixie black spikes held with extra gel similar to GK’s, shot a glance at her underling.
A Toy for Christmas Page 4
