by Laura Wolfe
I rested my head on the seat, ignoring Grace’s eagerness to drive to the underground tow lot. We entered the business loop, passing beneath a massive billboard sponsored by the Chicago Board of Realtors. Congratulations to Chicago’s Top Producer, Natalia Romanov! it exclaimed. A petite dark-haired woman in a royal blue suit smiled down at me. I slunk down, assuming the posture of a failure. How had Natalia Romanov done it? How had she become so successful that she received a billboard in downtown Chicago, while I couldn’t even complete a single showing? I tried to swallow, but my throat scratched like sandpaper. Grace exited on the ramp to Lower Wacker Drive and then took the exit marked “City Tow Lot.” The ramp spiraled down further and further. Steam rose from below us, and I couldn’t shake the feeling we were driving into hell. We plunged into the darkness. The yellow lights on the walls of the tunnel flitted by every couple of seconds.
“Doesn’t this remind you of Gotham City?” She flashed a mischievous smile at me.
“I never knew this place was here. It’s creepy.”
Finally, a trailer appeared around a bend. Behind it, a chain-link fence encircled hundreds of cars. An overweight man in grease-stained jeans sat inside the open door of the trailer, smoking a cigarette. Grace parked. I got out and stepped toward him, overly aware of my wobbly heels and sweaty forehead.
“I’m here to get my car back.”
The man blew a puff of smoke in my direction and asked for my license plate number. I gave it to him, and he typed it into his computer.
“Yep. We got it. That’ll be five hundred.”
“What?”
“Five hundred dollars. To get your car back.” He spit at the ground, narrowly missing my new shoes.
He might as well have punched me in the stomach. Five hundred dollars? My body spun like water circling the drain. As if I had an extra five hundred dollars lying around. Yet, I needed my car back. There was no other choice. I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet.
“Do you take credit cards?” I removed one, and my business card slid out alongside it.
The man’s grubby fingers snatched the plastic out of my hand, knocking my business card to the ground. He reached down and picked it up, inspecting it.
“Real estate, eh?”
I formed my lips into a mechanical grin, remembering Jacqueline’s refrain. Network, network, network. “If you ever need a realtor, give me a call.”
The man smirked as he handed back my card. “If you ever need a cheap car, give me a call.” He waved his arm back toward the fenced-in lot overflowing with unclaimed cars and coughed out a wet, raspy laugh.
A few minutes later, the man unlocked the gate. I drove through feeling sick, my heart racing at my growing debt. I’d totally messed up this time. I’d abandoned my first potential client, my car had gotten towed, and now I was out another five hundred dollars. The ticking bomb of my mortgage payment echoed in my head. Then there was the special assessment, not to mention Emma’s medical bills. My window of time to make money was closing.
I didn’t remember driving out of the dark tunnel. Somehow, I was now above ground and trailing behind Grace’s car. She turned north on Clark Street, and I followed, thankful to have her leading the way, so I didn’t have to think. A few blocks later, she pulled to a stop at a red light, and I slammed on the brakes, barely missing her bumper. A mass of pedestrians entered the walkway and trekked across the four-lane street.
Two stragglers holding hands at the back of the pack caught my eye. They stepped off the curb and into the street. The guy’s back was to me. He tipped his head to the side and laughed before grasping the woman in a bear hug and kissing her on the lips. Get a room.
As he pulled away from her and reached for her hand again, I got a clear view; the messy brown hair, the crinkling eyes, the curve of his bicep muscle as he grasped her around the waist. My breath snagged in my throat, and I felt like I was careening off a tall building directly toward my death. It was Nate. He was wearing new clothes, but it was him. It hadn’t even been two months, and he’d already found someone else.
The woman looked nothing like me. She had the lanky, muscular build of a volleyball player. Her short blonde hair reflected in the evening light. I wondered what was so great about her. Was it her looks? Or maybe it was because she acted like an adult and could hold a job? She probably didn’t need to rely on her boyfriend to pay her mortgage. I couldn’t shake the look on Nate’s face. He beamed at her like she was some kind of treasure.
A horn blasted from the car behind me. The light had turned green, and Grace’s car was no longer in sight. I wasn’t sure how I made it back to my condo. My face burned as pressure built up behind my eyes. I’d felt this way that day in October when my parents informed me of Emma’s cancer diagnosis. I hadn’t been able to stop the tears then. And I remembered the time in high school when I received eight rejection letters from colleges and universities on the same day. Mom had hugged me and said, “Everyone chooses a different path.” She’d probably meant to be reassuring, but I noticed the way her eyelids dropped ever-so-slightly. What she’d really wanted to say was, “Maybe you should have studied a little harder.” I’d stomped up to my room, buried my head in my pillow, and cried. Now again, I couldn’t stop the tears. I’d lost everything. My job, my boyfriend, my parents’ trust, and maybe I’d lose my condo, too.
By the time I pulled into the parking space underneath my building, my surge of emotion had passed. I checked myself in the rearview mirror, finding my mascara smeared in streaks across my reddened cheeks. I wiped the leftover tears away, hoping to pull myself together before Grace saw me. Her car was parked in the space next to mine.
The elevator took me up to the fourth floor, where I limped down the hallway, taking a deep breath before opening the door to my condo. Grace stepped in front of me, hooking a leash onto Astro’s collar. The dog’s massive paws landed on my shoulders, his tongue dangling inches from my mouth.
“I’m taking Astro for a walk.” Grace yanked on the leash, pulling her dog off me. “Want to go? I’m telling you, guys flock to him.”
“No, thanks. I’m gonna take it easy for a while.”
She paused, studying my face. “What happened? Are you okay?”
My mouth stammered, but no words came out. Then, I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing or the sobs from spilling out.
Grace looped her arm over my shoulders and ushered me inside to the couch while Astro tried to lick the saltiness from my cheeks. She grabbed two beers from the refrigerator while I described the woman I’d seen with Nate.
“He’s a loser. You’re better off without him.” She elbowed me. “Besides, you have nothing but gold bars shoved up your ass. That male CEO supermodel we talked about is probably driving his moving truck toward you right now.”
I chuckled through my tears. Grace was the best person to have on my side.
For the next hour, we drank beer, devoured nacho-flavored Doritos straight from the bag, and watched mindless reality TV, which was the quickest way to put the hellish day behind me. I told her about the weird visit from Peter the night before and the text he’d sent on my first day at Greystone. She’d listened with unblinking eyes, relieved I hadn’t opened the door for him.
“You never know what will send someone off the deep end,” she said. Then she told me funny stories about her awkward encounters with the guys at her speed dating event, making me doubly happy I hadn’t tagged along with her. After her final tale of a pimply thirty-something who wouldn’t make eye-contact with her, she paused and looked at me. “Our lives are turning out to be real shit shows, huh?”
We burst into a fit of sorry, self-indulgent laughter, the kind that only two friends who’d seen each other at their worst could understand. Astro jumped up onto the couch, tail wagging, and having no clue what was happening.
The final challenge of the cooking show ended. Grace brushed off her pants and gave me another hug, finally ready to take
Astro out for his night walk. Just as she left, my phone buzzed. Another email. I sat up as Anthony Sabatino’s name popped up on my phone. Maybe he’d signed the Buyer’s Rep agreement I’d sent him. With everything else going on, I’d almost forgotten about the Sabatinos. I held my breath and opened the message.
“Mara, thank you for the email. We decided to use Kevin to help us find a new location for our restaurant. Anthony.”
I buried my forehead in my hands, my neck unable to support the weight of my head for another second. My only lead had disappeared.
10
I pulled the covers over my head and hit snooze for the third time. A black cloud had attached itself to my life, and I couldn’t escape it. I’d misjudged the time and effort it would take to start making money. Against everyone’s advice, I’d jumped out the window of a tall building and hoped that a safety net would magically appear under me. Now I was hurtling toward the pavement below.
I pictured Emma with the scarf tied around her head, the vacant look in her eyes. I should have been the one with cancer, not her. Maybe if I’d spent more time with her, I would have noticed how severe the symptoms had gotten. I’d failed her. I’d failed myself.
Then there was Nate. If only I could talk to him. Work things out. He didn’t know it, but I’d seen him last night, his eyes worshipping that other woman like she was the answer to his prayers, like he was so ecstatic that he’d ended up with her instead of me. He was probably with her right now. I forced my mind to stop there. I didn’t want to imagine anything else. That wasn’t even the part that hurt the most. The rusty nail through my heart was that Nate had been right all along. I was a loser who made bad decisions, a real estate agent with no clients. I couldn’t find a parking space if my life depended on it. And now I couldn’t pay my bills, much less Emma’s. Although I’d gotten hooked up with Jacqueline, I had nothing to show for it. I’d given her hours of unpaid labor. I’d done her busy work for free. She’d duped me. She was closing deals left and right, but I wasn’t involved in any of them.
My phone dinged with another incoming email, and I opened it. More to do lists from Jacqueline. No doubt, she’d already completed her morning run and was at the office scheduling dozens of closings for herself. She wanted me to come in and do her grunt work while she collected all the money. Forcing myself to get up and power through was the right thing to do, but my limbs hung with the weight of cement blocks. I dropped my phone on the nightstand and flipped on my side. Nothing sounded more welcoming than sleep. My eyelids closed, my head sinking into the pillow.
My buzzing phone jolted me upright in bed. The numbers on my clock glowed, 9:20. I’d fallen asleep again. Jacqueline’s name flashed across my phone. She wanted to know why I wasn’t at the office yet. She wanted updates and answers. The phone buzzed and buzzed like a chainsaw. I rolled over in bed and buried my face in the pillow.
Five minutes later, I heard more noises coming from my phone. This time cheerful beeps of incoming text messages. Why wouldn’t she go away? Leave me alone! The beeps kept coming. Finally, I reached for my phone and read her last message.
Be here in ten minutes or you’re fired.
By the time I parked near the office, it was almost 10:00 a.m. I moped down North Avenue, past the million-dollar townhomes, restaurants, and high-end storefronts. Tony, the homeless guy I’d met on my first day, stood at the corner, shaking his jar of change.
“Hey, Lady! Hey, Lady!” He grinned, flashing a checkerboard of teeth at me.
“Hi, Tony.” I paused, digging into my purse for something to offer him.
“It’s a beautiful day. Beautiful day. Isn’t it?”
“I guess.” It had been a terrible day, but talking to a homeless man who was happier than me forced things back into perspective. Two quarters, a dime and a nickel lay in my palm, and I tossed it into his jar. “Sorry, it’s not more.”
“I’m grateful. I’m grateful.” He nodded. “Keep your chin up, lady. It’s a beautiful day!”
“Thanks, Tony.” I left him behind me as I pulled open the door to the office.
The door to Maeve’s office was ajar, and I could hear her congratulating Jacqueline on a recent closing. I slid into my chair and tried to look like I cared. A property list lay on my desk with a sticky note attached, the words “Schedule these showings for tomorrow” scrawled in black marker. My reluctant fingers pressed the numbers. I stared out the window. A city bus lurched past Tony and pulled to a stop in front of the office. A woman in a pantsuit climbed aboard. If I didn’t get some deals going soon, I’d be back to taking public transit to some nine-to-five job downtown, too. The thought made me feel like vomiting. Maybe Tony was on to something.
“You’re late.” My mentor appeared next to me. I straightened up in my chair and forced a smile.
“Sorry.”
“I get up every morning at 5 a.m. and go for a five-mile run. Rain or shine. And you can’t get to the office before 10 a.m.?”
Jacqueline glared at me, disgusted. I hunched forward, aware of the fold of flesh creeping over my waistband. Regular exercise had never been my thing.
“Pull that shit again, and you’re fired.” She shuffled papers on her desk.
I nodded.
The shuffling stopped, and she raised an eyebrow. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Yeah,” I said, pausing to look at my hands. “I mean, I’m sorry about this morning. It won’t happen again.”
“Was there a problem?”
“Yeah. I mean, no,” I said, stuttering. I didn’t want to tell her that my car had gotten towed last night or that I’d seen my ex-boyfriend kissing another woman, so I went with the third option. “I’m getting kind of nervous about making money in time for my mortgage payment. I have the next couple payments, but after that . . .” My voice trailed off. “Anthony didn’t sign the buyer’s agreement. He said they’re going to use Kevin.”
“Don’t let the Sabatinos get you down. It’s a cutthroat business.” Jacqueline put her hands on her hips. “Channel your anger into productivity.”
I nodded again. Those mind tricks probably worked for someone like Greystone’s top producer, but they wouldn’t work for me.
“I’m going to Starbucks,” she said. “Come with me. There’s no privacy in this place.”
With her bag slung over her shoulder, Jacqueline shoved through Greystone’s front door as I scrambled a half-step behind. The sun seared my skin through a cloudless sky, and I realized Tony had been right. It was a beautiful day. I’d been too absorbed in self-pity to notice. A few feet away, Tony’s coins clinked together in a metallic rhythm, and I raised my hand in a wave. Jacqueline turned toward me, her forehead creased.
“I wish the city would do something to get that bum away from our office. It’s a disgrace.” She huffed and trotted across four lanes of traffic to avoid walking past the homeless man.
I averted my eyes from Tony, stomach sinking, but forcing my feet to skitter after her. By the time we reached Starbuck’s a few minutes later, I was breathless. Once inside, we approached the counter, the scent of the coffee beans, and the hiss of the steamer jolting me to full alertness.
“I’ll have a grande soy latte.” Jacqueline waved me forward.
“A tall Sumatra, please.”
She paid, and we sat at a table near the front window.
I motioned toward her soy latte. “My mom is lactose intolerant, too.”
“Oh, I’m not lactose intolerant. I don’t like the way the dairy cows are treated.” Her eyes turned glassy as if she was thinking about some faraway place. “Horrible.” She shook her head before taking a sip of her dairy-free coffee.
“Really?” I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I was surprised that Jacqueline, who lacked compassion for humans, was concerned about the treatment of cows.
“Anyway, let’s talk about you.” She leaned in. “I know I’m not the easiest person to work with. Some of my past assistants didn’t stick ar
ound very long.” She paused. “Not that it was my fault.”
I looked down at my coffee. “Peter seemed pretty angry.”
“What?” Jacqueline’s mouth froze. “How would you know that?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should mention anything. Peter sent me a text telling me not to take the job. Then he showed up at my condo two nights ago. I pretended I wasn’t home.”
Jacqueline’s eyes hovered over me, her chin set.
“I think he knew I was inside, though. He was shouting through the door, telling me to stay away from you.”
Jacqueline tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “I should have warned you. He’s a very disturbed person. I suspect drugs might be involved.”
“I didn’t realize he’d be so upset about me taking his position.”
She waved her hand in the air. “He’s a jealous mess. That was one of the reasons I had to let him go. He didn’t work well with others, and his behavior became more and more erratic. You were smart not to engage with him.”
“Yeah. It was kind of unsettling.”
“Let me know immediately if it happens again. We’ll call the police. I’ll take legal action. We can get a protective order, if necessary.”
“Okay.” I swallowed, remembering Jacqueline’s legal background and hoping a protective order wouldn’t be required. Either way, her support was reassuring.
She typed something into her phone and then shifted her chair closer to the window. “Let’s not waste our energy on Peter right now. I want things to work out with you. You’ve got real potential, Mara.”
I smiled despite myself, hoping my cheeks weren’t turning red.
“You said you’re concerned about paying your mortgage?”
I nodded. “And I just got hit with a special assessment from my condo board. Almost $4000.”
“You’re kidding!” Jacqueline glanced over my shoulder. “I didn’t remember anything about that in the meeting minutes.”
“I know. They just voted on it. It came out of nowhere.” I left out the part about not having attended any of the condo board meetings. “And my sister, Emma…” I paused, not sure if it was unprofessional to share my personal life with Jacqueline, but she nodded, encouraging me to continue. “She has cancer. Lymphoma. She’s only eighteen.”