by Sean Platt
One of the leasing agents came to stand beside Kerry. He looked at the staring pair of women for a moment, then cleared his throat and pushed a piece of paper between them. It was Lily’s lease. He added another, on top. This one read, PALMS COUTURE LEASE TERMINATION.
“I’m sorry, Miss Whistler,” said the agent. “But I think you’ll understand the position the Palms is in. We don’t like to terminate leases.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Antonia. “This is the fifth flower shop she’s driven out of this space.”
The agent looked over at the baker. So did Evelyn, but then Evelyn did something strange, taking a step closer to Antonia, as if wanting to distance herself from Kerry.
“That’s not quite right, though,” said Lily. “Is it, Kerry?”
Kerry said nothing. So Lily said, “Evelyn. How many of the previous shop’s leases has Kerry had terminated?”
Evelyn looked uncomfortable. She hemmed and hawed, saying nothing.
“Okay,” Lily amended, still watching Kerry. “How many leases for this spot have been terminated by the leasing office?”
“Four,” said Antonia, in a tone that suggested nobody was paying attention to her.
“None,” said Evelyn.
Antonia turned toward Evelyn.
Embarrassed, Evelyn said, “They’ve all broken their own leases or defaulted.”
Lily nodded, still locking eyes with Kerry. “She drove them out. Didn’t you, Kerry?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” She smirked. “Or, in the case of your boyfriend, go directly into the competition’s.”
Lily blinked. She had no idea how Kerry knew about Len’s business practices, but it didn’t matter. Kerry saw her reel and smirked with victory.
The male agent tapped the lease termination. It was already filled out, with La Fleur DE BLANC typed neatly in the “tenant” field and the shop’s address and her own full name a line below. There was a lot of verbose legalese below that. All it required was a signature on the final page, where one of the agents seemed to have helpfully attached a SIGN HERE tape arrow.
“I’d like to make this easy,” said the agent. “To be frank, the nature of some of your complaints warrants investigation by the police as assault. The one we got today, if valid, definitely falls into that camp. Miss Kirby has graciously agreed not to press charges if you’ll agree to voluntarily terminate your lease.”
“I refuse,” said Lily.
“It’s within our authority to terminate your lease involuntarily,” said the agent. “It’s kind of a ‘three strikes and you’re out’ situation.”
“Even if the complaints are unsubstantiated.”
“There are lots of witnesses to your little rampage the other day.” Kerry held up her left hand, which Lily hadn’t noticed. There was a white brace, wrapped in ACE bandage. “And a medical record of an injury I sustained.”
Lily shook her head, looking at the brace, and laughed.
“You think it’s funny?” said Kerry.
“I do,” said Antonia.
Kerry’s head jerked toward the baker, who gave her a little wave. Then Kerry’s attention returned to the counter, and to Lily.
“I guess you’ll have to kick me out,” Lily said.
The agent cleared his throat, looking acutely uncomfortable. Behind him, Evelyn uncrossed her arms, then crossed them again. The agent pulled a second form from a satchel over his shoulder and began filling it out.
Kerry was smiling. “You’re in over your head.”
Lily shrugged. “I guess I am.”
“You’re gone. Time’s up, Dorothy.”
Lily smiled.
The agent filled the form faster, scrawling as quickly as possible to end the uncomfortable exchange. Finally he flipped to the second page of the involuntary termination rider and pushed the form toward Kerry. Kerry looked up.
“We’ll need your signature,” the agent explained.
“Why?”
“Three strikes, and she’s out,” the agent repeated. “You’re the one who filed the complaints.”
“I thought they were anonymous?” said Antonia.
“Officially, yes,” said the agent. “But in most cases we know who filed them, for record keeping purposes.”
“Bitch,” said Antonia.
Kerry hadn’t touched the pen. “Why can’t you just end her lease? She’s repeatedly violated terms.”
“She’s paid her rent. The rest is complaint based, so we need a witness.”
Kerry looked at Lily, then at the agent.
“It’s just a formality, Miss Kirby. If you’ll just sign the form, we can proceed.”
“Yes, Kerry,” said Lily. “Sign the form.”
“If you could just sign it there, ma’am. Right below where I wrote your name and business.”
“Go ahead, Kirby. Sign it the way you signed your lease.”
All of a sudden, a slow, creeping smile began to crawl across Antonia’s face. Lily met her eyes, then returned to Kerry.
“You can use my pen, ma’am,” said the agent.
“And then it’ll be official,” said Lily. “I’ll be gone, and you’ll have this termination to prove it.”
The agent looked at Lily, apparently not understanding why their newest tenant was so eager to terminate her own lease.
“And of course,” said Lily, “they’ll attach a copy of your own lease to establish your rights to sign this termination, as a fellow tenant of the Palms Couture.”
Kerry held the agent’s pen, then met Lily’s eyes for five very long seconds. Her jaw worked. She looked like someone encountering an immovable object, trying to decide whether a round of futile fighting and clawing was worth the temporary relief. Then, finally, she set the pen down.
“I know your secret,” Lily whispered.
“What was that, miss?” said the agent.
Kerry was still staring at Lily. She shook her head slowly. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she did Antonia caught her eye. One eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch, and Kerry’s mouth closed.
“Watch yourself,” Kerry said, then left La Fleur without another word.
The agents all looked at each other, baffled. The lease, the lease termination, and the rider were all still on the counter, the rider flipped to the signature page. Nobody seemed to know what had just happened. The group had entered with an angry woman determined to terminate the plaza’s newest tenant, and now the complainant was toothless without explanation.
Finally, the agent swiped the paperwork from the counter and slipped it into his satchel, looking out of place. Clearing his throat he said, “Well. I guess we won’t be handling that now. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
Lily gave him her sweetest, most down-home smile. “It’s no problem.”
“Okay. Well. I assume she won’t be pursuing her latest complaint?” He looked to Evelyn and the other agent for help, but they had none to give. “I’ll check back in with her. But there is still the matter of the truck.”
“The truck out back,” said the other male agent.
“Yes. We’ve actually received several complaints, from various tenants. Not just Miss Kirby. I’m sorry, but it can’t stay.”
Lily nodded. She’d suspected that was coming.
“If you can handle that by the end of the day, we won’t need to act on the remaining complaints.” The agent nodded as if Lily had agreed, which she supposed she had.
He nodded again, then tried a few stumbling times to exit before finally overcoming his discomfort and walking away. The other man followed, and Evelyn took the procession’s rear.
Halfway through the door, Evelyn turned and spoke.
“One other thing.”
Lily looked at Antonia as if to say, What now?
“The environmental complaint. About your location’s refrigeration unit.”
“Yes?” said Lily.
“It may have been lost.”
“Lost?”
Evelyn nodded. “I believe so. And I understand that because it’s disconnected and Palms Couture property, we’ll need to send someone out immediately to fix it.”
Lily felt her insides melt. A wide smile crept onto her lips.
“Thank you, Evelyn.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m just protecting the owner’s investment.”
She gave Lily a sly little wave and crossed the courtyard, fidgeting her way past the fountain in her suit skirt and sensible black heels.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE ETHICAL SIDE OF THE MIDDLE
“Be sure to deposit that,” Lily said.
Allison was pulling her first official La Fleur de Blanc paycheck back and forth through her fingers. Lily kept flinching, imagining an imminent paper cut. But then, Allison had earned a paycheck before. She knew what they were, wealthy from birth or not.
“I will,” said Allison, borderline insulted.
“Deposit it,” Lily repeated. “Don’t cash it. I want money dropping into your account every other week, right on the dime. As soon as I get a chance, I’ll figure out that direct deposit thing. I don’t want you tossing paychecks into your back seat and forgetting about them.”
“Do you think I’m not responsible enough to hold a real job?”
Lily laughed. It had become a joke between them. When Allison dropped something, she talked about how drunk she must be. When she got excited, she apologized for being such a total airheaded party girl. And when she took breaks to run off with attractive men, she … well, she just told the truth those times, in vivid detail.
“Seriously, though,” said Lily.
“His problem wasn’t with my lack of a paycheck. His problem was with you. And I told you that Kerry fixed that.”
“That must have been a fun conversation,” said Lily. “What I wouldn’t give to have heard her stumble through it.”
“What the hell do you have on her to get her to do that, anyway?”
“No, Allison.”
Allison pouted. “Oh, come on. I won’t tell anyone. Not even Antonia.”
“Antonia already knows. I had her in here for backup when Kerry came to kick me out.”
“Antonia knows? I’m more of a BFF than Antonia! What do you think I’m going to do? Do you think I’m some sort of a drunken, horny party girl?”
Lily sat. They’d been having this debate in the two weeks Allison had been working at La Fleur as an official, registered, on-the-books employee. Her salary hurt, and the payroll taxes and accounting that went with it hurt even more, but it was still a tiny price to pay. And even more importantly, it was a small price to return Allison’s dignity and her father’s respect. Lily couldn’t imagine what load of impossible horseshit Kerry must have fed Mr. Deak to get him to come back around after Kerry’s first round of tales, but it seemed to have worked. Kerry had been uniquely motivated, and she’d found a way — using her cunty lying superpowers for good. The official paycheck was insurance, to make things official.
“Fine,” said Lily. “But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Because it’ll embarrass Kerry? Oh nos!”
“Because it’s leverage.”
“Now you sound like Len.”
Lily cocked her head. Len was still a sore spot. Every time she looked toward his cart, she saw the long lines he still managed to attract and felt something shift inside. It seemed unfair that cheaters should be allowed to prosper, but she wasn’t going to fink on him to the leasing office like Kerry would. She’d told Marcello, and Marcello had fired his mole. That would have to be enough for now.
“I’m not like Len.”
“Sorry. I guess you’re somewhere in the middle.”
“Firmly on the ethical side of the middle,” Lily insisted.
“Let’s reserve judgment on that until after I’ve heard what happened with Kerry.”
“Maybe I’m not going to tell you, if you think I’m like Len.”
“Fine, fine. You’re not like Len.” Allison held up her hands. “You don’t steal. You don’t cheat.”
Lily looked at Allison, trying to determine if she’d apologized enough. Then she settled, deciding where to start. Antonia had already told her most of the story, and Evelyn, who seemed to have decided a fortnightly bouquet for her office desk was a sensible indulgence, had filled in most of the rest. But even Evelyn didn’t know the magic ingredient that had declawed Kerry, and Antonia, following Lily’s implied lead, had remained mum.
Lily smiled. “She’s not on an official lease.”
Allison slapped her hand over her mouth dramatically. “How?”
“It was your talk about your dad and Kerry that got me snooping. In a way, Kerry screwed herself by messing with you, through your dad.”
“Might as well screw herself,” said Allison. “Nobody else will.”
“I remembered something Antonia had kind of implied, about how Kerry’s business never had growing pains. How nouveau house succeeded right away and never, ever seemed to have trouble no matter how much it spent on decor and improvements. Antonia told me Kerry didn’t come from money. All the oldest tenants know it. She didn’t go to college either, even though she tells people she did, and the old guard knows that, too, because she worked at The Gallery in high school, then took it over right afterward. And I got to thinking, after you left: How the hell did a twenty-year-old kid with no capital make it? Especially in a business with so much overhead? The Gallery was huge, even thirty years ago. And just like The Gallery, nouveau house had all that expensive inventory. Employees. You name it. It’s been pissing me off for weeks, every time she got something over on me. I couldn’t hire one employee. How had she been able to do all of that?”
“Okay, so how’d she do it?” Allison pulled her knees to her chest and was sitting with the soles of her sandaled feet on the chair’s cushion, like a teenager fixed to their favorite flick.
“It took me a while, but by using your dad’s name and some pre-Internet records, I found kindly old Mr. Sage. He’s almost ninety, but still seems to have every one of his marbles. And plenty to say about the feisty little employee who drove him out of business. See, if Kerry is a good businesswoman, Mr. Sage was a terrible one. He had a sweetheart lease, but his employees all stole from him, and his suppliers were ripping him off. He managed to lose money without even paying rent.”
“Without paying rent?”
“He told me that The Gallery was one of The Palms first anchor tenants. There were two; the other was JC Penny, but somehow Kerry forced them out shortly after she turned The Gallery into nouveau house. Don’t ask me how. I can’t imagine that even being possible. The complex’s owners were in way over their heads, so they made a crazy deal with their two anchor tenants: their leases were one dollar per month for one hundred years.”
“Why the hell would anyone offer a lease like that?”
“It’s not unheard of,” said Lily. “I guess owners get desperate, and they know that without anchor stores, no one will rent and shoppers can’t shop. They figured they could lose on the anchors and make it up with everyone else. And hey, they eventually traded Penny’s for Bloomingdales. I imagine the owner sent Kerry chocolates after she pulled that off.”
“But you said Kerry got rid of Penny's after she took over.”
Lily nodded. “Mr. Sage told me she assumed the lease. She’s been able to operate so well because she only pays a buck a month in rent.”
“And will forever.”
“Until someone figures out that she assumed an unassumable lease,” Lily said. “I don’t understand it all, but it’s something about corporations buying other corporations … your dad would understand, I suppose. Maybe he even set some of it up. But the reason Kerry didn’t kick me out was because she’d have to sign as she’d signed the lease, and then her lease would be pulled and attached as a paper trail in case I decided to sue them for wrongful termination or somet
hing.”
“The lease with Sage’s name on it. And The Gallery.”
Lily nodded. “And if she’s caught and has to sign a new lease, it’d be at the going rate at the Palms … maybe $100 a square foot or so. It’d cripple her. She’d have to actually run a good business, rather than coasting.”
Allison’s lips pulled into an assessing little pucker. “You are one badass bitch.”
Lily stood. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
After a few minutes of quiet, Allison rose to restack the candle display. She’d been calculating candle sales versus profit margins for most of the day, trying to figure out how to get more juice from the squeeze. Lily, watching, had almost wanted to take photographs as proof of her entrepreneurial spirit, for Allison’s father, like a proud parent creating a portfolio for her child.
Once finished, Allison joined Lily at the window. nouveau house was across the courtyard, its outside display noticeably smaller. Kerry wouldn’t rock the boat. For a while.
But Allison wasn’t looking at the furniture store. She was looking to the side, to Hit N’ Run under the big tree.
“If there’s a downside here,” said Allison, “it’s that you’re no longer getting laid.”
Lily groaned.
“Exactly,” said Allison, noting the groan. “We want something more like this:” And she began making loud, moaning sex noises. While she was in the middle of making them, Dean Moreno walked in and took several enthusiastic steps forward. Lily, without a word, walked over and shoved him out.
“Tell me,” said Allison, finishing and looking like she needed a cigarette — or a joint, per her occasional whim. “How hard did Len make you come?”
“Jesus, Allison.”
“Hey, you want me working here, you’d better get used to me asking about how much meat train is passing through your tunnel. So give.”
“‘Through my tunnel’?”
“Answer the question, Snow White. How much pounding did that nice liar give you? Did he get you to do the wallaby?”
“I don’t even know what that could mean.”
Allison shrugged. “It has to mean something. Now tell me.”
