Top Producer

by Laura Wolfe

  “She sounds great. Will you be able to start classes on time?” I didn’t want to make a big deal about my sister’s sickly appearance, but she didn’t look strong enough to handle the stress of starting college.

  “If my doctor gives me the green light, I can move into the dorm in a couple of weeks. The same as everyone else.” Emma coughed again. “I’ll just have to drive back for checkups.”

  “She’s been registering for classes, haven’t you, Em?” Mom smiled.

  I nodded, happy that my sister’s life hadn’t been disrupted too badly.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw that an inspector was returning my call. I sent it to voicemail.

  “How’s the real estate business?”

  “Great.” I set down my glass and leaned in. “I was just named one of ‘Thirty Under Thirty’ by CBR Magazine.”

  Dad raised his eyebrows at me and nodded. “That’s great, Mara.”

  “Cool.” Emma yawned and laid her head back in her chair. I looked from Mom to Dad to see if they seemed concerned, but their faces showed no emotion. Emma hunched forward and sipped some of her lemonade. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I shifted toward her. “Want to watch a movie later? I brought a classic—I know What You Did Last Summer,” I said, using my creepiest voice.

  “Yeah. I love that one.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned again. “I might go lie down for a few minutes. I’m so tired all of a sudden.”

  I nodded. Despite the oppressive heat, a coldness trickled through me. Five minutes sitting on the porch had made Emma tired? My parents had been telling me how much progress Emma had been making, how she’d completed chemo, and was cancer-free, but she seemed worse than the last time I’d seen her. Were they in denial? The sliding door closed behind Emma, and she hobbled toward her bedroom.

  “Are you sure she’s better?” I said when I was sure Emma was out of earshot.

  “Well, yes,” Mom said. “The test results confirmed it.”

  “I know. It’s just that…” I pressed my lips together and forced the heat away from my face. “She looks worse than she did five weeks ago.” I lowered my voice. “How is she going to handle starting college?”

  “The nurse at the clinic said treatment is harder on some people than others. I think Emma’s body is especially sensitive to the medicine. Now that it’s over, she should bounce back quickly.” Dad clutched his lemonade in his hand but didn’t drink it. “Anyway, she’s going in for another follow-up test next week. Just to confirm everything is good before she leaves.”

  I stared at the wooden slats of the fence.

  “Mara, honey.” Mom stood next to me now and placed her hand on top of mine. “It’s going to be fine.”

  I nodded, hoping she was right. “How are the bills coming?”

  Dad swirled the ice in his glass. “We’ve made a big dent in them. The charity run helped a lot. We’re down to twelve grand. I should be able to pay it off over the next year or two if my business stays steady.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the blank check and a pen. “You can pay it off now.” I set the check on the table in front of me and made it out for twelve-thousand dollars. Then I handed it to Dad. He stared at it and blinked back the moisture in his eyes.

  “Are you sure you can afford this?”

  “Yeah. Business is going well.”

  “Thank you.” He bit his lip and handed the check to Mom.

  “We’re proud of you, Mara.” Mom stood up and kissed me on the head.

  I straightened myself up in my chair. “I finally found something I’m good at.”

  Dad chuckled. “You sure did.”

  “I’ve learned so much from Jacqueline.” I stared at the shiny straps of my sandals, envisioning the starving realtors who’d inhaled the food at the broker’s open this morning. Only my association with Jacqueline separated myself from them. Some of her methods were reprehensible—yes—but she’d also shown me what it took to rise above the crowd. My phone buzzed in my pocket with another incoming call. I reached down and silenced it.

  “Well, it’s good you’re tied in with her,” Dad said. “She was very impressive. Tom still raves about her. She helped him out of a big mess.”

  “What happened with Tom anyway?” I leaned in, realizing I’d never heard the whole story.

  Dad shook his head. “Helluva thing. So, Tom gets a call in the middle day from the gas company. They tell him there’s some kind of problem with the gas line in his townhome, possibly a leak. It’s an emergency, you know? So, he rushes home from work to open the door and, lo and behold, he walks in on his wife and another guy messing around right there in the living room.” Dad coughed out a laugh. “Nearly destroyed the poor guy. And here’s the kicker—there was no gas leak.”

  I uncrossed my legs, my hands dropping to my sides. “And Jacqueline helped him?”

  “Apparently, he and Bonnie, his ex-wife, had met her at a charity dinner a few weeks earlier. They’d hit it off. So, when he discovered the, uh, indiscretion, he’d called Jacqueline to list their townhome. He said using Jacqueline as their realtor was the only thing he and Bonnie could agree on.” Dad laughed, and Mom chuckled, too. “It was a beautiful house in River North. A shame.” Dad shook his head. “Tom lives in Evanston now. Only a five-minute commute to the office. Can’t beat that.”

  “Jacqueline knows her stuff,” I said, although I couldn’t ignore the unease that spread through my stomach.

  Think about it, Mara. The reasons people sell their properties…Divorces, job losses, unexpected illnesses, death…She’s behind it all. I blinked away Peter’s face, wondering about Jacqueline’s role in Tom’s divorce. If she could orchestrate a fake break-in, what else could she have done? I gulped my lemonade.

  “Have you heard from Nate?” Mom asked, passing a platter of chips and salsa toward me.

  “No.” My face burned at the mention of his name.

  “There are lots of fish in the sea, Mara.” Dad winked at me. “You should move on.”

  “I know. It’s just probably better if I’m not in a relationship right now. My job is demanding.”

  The sad truth was the more I tried to forget about Nate, the more he seemed irreplaceable. No one compared to him. Not that I would take him back. I wouldn’t. How could I be with someone who didn’t believe in me? He’d already moved on anyway.

  My phone buzzed again. This time I pulled it out to see who was calling. Bill. I’d already left him a voicemail with feedback from the broker’s open. My parents stared at me, waiting to see what I’d do. I silenced the call and slid the phone back into my pocket.

  We continued talking, my parents sharing the mundane details of their suburban life between disruptions from my phone.

  Dad sighed. “Can you turn that thing off?”

  “Sorry.” I shrugged. “It’s the business.”

  A minute later, a text message beeped through from Jacqueline. How’d it go with Kevin? I flipped my phone upside down. Another message beeped through. Then another. I glanced at the screen. Jacqueline’s most recent text alerted me to a new condo she’d listed. I started typing a message back but decided it could wait.

  More texts from Jacqueline appeared a few seconds later. She told me to meet her at a condo in uptown tomorrow—an additional listing that I’d be responsible for showing. I hadn’t even responded to her first message yet. I grumbled about the interruptions, the familiar tension in my shoulders returning. She knew I was taking the night off to visit Emma, but I guess she didn’t care.

  31

  The bitter scent of brewing espresso beans swirled with the sweet aroma of vanilla scones as I pressed my back against the metal slats of the bistro chair. A beam of sunlight shot through the window of Starbuck’s and directly into my eyes.

  “How’d it go with Kevin? Why didn’t you answer my texts?” Jacqueline’s voice was stretched thin. She clutched a soy latte in her hands.

  I shrugged. “
It went well. He didn’t suspect anything. At least as far as I could tell.” I lifted my phone and scrolled through my emails to avoid eye contact.

  “Did you bring up the CCC?”

  “Yeah.” My eyes squinted through the blinding light to meet hers. “I’m in. Kevin invited me to the next party.”

  “Yes!” She slapped her hand on the table, the sudden noise causing me to jump. “What else? Did you learn anything about his deals?”

  “No. Not really. Except the Sabatinos are turning out to be difficult buyers.”

  “When’s the CCC party?”

  “Next Wednesday night at seven o’clock.”

  “What else? What else? Tell me everything.”

  I shifted my chair toward Jacqueline, noticing the way her back faced the sun. “We went out to lunch together. Indian food. He’s deathly allergic to shellfish. EpiPen’s in his bag if you ever see him blowing up like a balloon.” I looked at the ceiling.

  “Anything that has to do with real estate? Your lack of detail is killing me. Did he say anything about me?”

  “Um, yeah. Kevin thinks you’re unethical.”

  Jacqueline laughed. “I’m unethical? He’s the one who slithered in to steal our listing.” She leaned in closer. “Why does he think that?”

  “The deal on Byron Street. Mold appeared before the inspection, and then you brought in your own buyer.”

  Jacqueline crossed her arms in front of her and sighed. “That sorry piece of shit. If that’s all he has on me, he’s not going to get very far.”

  My eyes traveled to the floor. If that’s all he has on me… Her statement clawed at my insides. Not exactly a denial.

  “Mara. Let’s talk about what you’re going to do when you’re at the CCC. Pay attention to everything everyone says, especially the developers.”

  I nodded, lips pinched.

  “Try to separate yourself from me, like you’re going to be doing your own thing soon. These guys are a bunch of self-important pricks. They take every opportunity to brag about new business. Take down every address you hear, the person who mentioned it, and what it is.”

  I processed her instructions before looking up. “Won’t they think it’s weird if I’m taking notes?”

  Jacqueline tipped her head back and massaged her temples with her fingers as if she were talking to the dumbest person in the world. She lowered her hands and leaned toward me again. “Be discreet. Be creative. Don’t drink too much. You need to be a step ahead of these guys. Pretend you’re a spy.”

  I smiled. “Okay. Yeah, cool.”

  “Any questions?”

  My toes tapped against the floor as I remembered the way Kevin had ogled my chest and my bare legs. “What if Kevin makes a move on me?”

  Jacqueline smirked. “He probably won’t do that until the end of the night. Pretend you need to take a call and get the hell out.”

  ◆◆◆

  It was Wednesday night, and I’d already changed my outfit three times. I stepped into the living room wearing modest heels and my most business-like little black dress, the one that showed off my toned arms and stomach but had a conservative neckline and a hem that fell at an angle past my knees. Underneath, my Spanx hugged against my skin like a security blanket.

  I glanced out the window, checking for Kevin’s car. He’d insisted on picking me up. The CCC reserved a parking spot for him behind the building, and he thought it would be a waste for us not to take advantage of it. I twisted the bracelet on my wrist, worried I’d put myself in an awkward situation. Hopefully, Kevin understood this was a networking event and not a date. My plan was to cut out early to avoid riding home with him.

  The clock in the kitchen said 7:05—ten more minutes until Kevin would be here. I paced back into the living room, smoothing my hair down and double-checking my clutch for keys, driver’s license, phone, lipstick, credit card, business cards, and a pen. As I rested my shoulder against the gas fireplace I’d never used, a fuzzy layer of dust on top of the mantel caught my eye. Housekeeping had never been one of my strengths, but I had even less time to clean and dust with all the work Jacqueline had been throwing at me. Maybe it was time to hire a cleaning service.

  Discoloration on the surface of the mantel caused me to bend forward and take a closer look. A thick line had been dragged through the dust, leaving a fresh trail of lacquered wood peeking through the hazy layer of filth. My eye followed the path to a framed photo of my family that I kept displayed above the fireplace. I hadn’t touched the photo in weeks, or possibly months, but someone else had. My fingers shook as I lifted the frame. It had been moved, pulled forward, and then set back in almost the same spot on the mantel where I usually kept it, except the pattern in the dust showed it now sat slightly further to the left.

  I sucked in my breath, trying to recall anyone who’d been inside my condo in the last few days but couldn’t remember having any visitors. Maybe I’d bumped the photo without realizing it, although I couldn’t remember anything like that happening, either. Peter’s desperate face flashed in my mind, as a sickening dread rose inside me, my heartbeat accelerating. I’d promised him I’d stay away from Jacqueline, and then I hadn’t kept my word. What if Peter had violated the protective order and returned? He’d handled my closing. He could have copied the key to my condo and saved it, just like I’d discovered Jacqueline had been doing. Or maybe Jacqueline had saved my key along with all the others in her drawer? But why? I couldn’t think of any possible motive.

  I shuddered, realizing I had more than one enemy. Natalia’s smoldering eyes hovered before me. What if she’d reversed the chase and begun following me? What if she’d sent one of her mobsters to teach me a lesson? My stomach seized. Now they knew what my family looked like, too. My life—and my family’s—was in danger.

  My eyes darted around the room in search of anything else missing or out of place. Everything appeared to be just as I’d left it. I’d rifled through my jewelry box minutes earlier, and my earrings, bracelets, and necklaces had been in their usual spots.

  I flattened my back against the wall, my mind grasping for a more logical explanation. Of course. The electrician. I inhaled, feeling the blood return to my face. He’d been in my condo last Tuesday to fix my bathroom fan. I’d been home to let him in but had trusted him to let himself out after he’d completed the work. He must have gotten curious and had a look around before leaving. It was creepy and unprofessional, but much more likely than Peter, or Jacqueline, or Natalia’s henchman breaking in only to move a photo and leave. My shoulders relaxed, as I realized how tightly strung I’d become since working with Jacqueline. Not everything was a crooked conspiracy.

  A text beeped through on my phone, and I checked the message. It was Kevin. I’m parked out front. Come down when you’re ready.

  32

  The sun sunk lower in the September sky, casting long shadows behind the buildings and street signs of Lincoln Park. Just as I’d feared, Kevin’s insistence on driving, coupled with his eyes skimming the curves of my body as I approached his car, made the outing feel like an awkward date. He turned into an alley off Armitage Avenue and pulled his car into a narrow spot with a “Reserved” sign posted above it.

  “Parking for CCC members only.” He turned toward me, smiling.

  “Nice.” I unbuckled and concentrated on my breathing, trying to calm myself. Instead, I inhaled Kevin’s nauseating cologne. My nerves were getting out of control. I needed to calm down.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he said. “These guys are just regular people. Regular people with millions and millions of dollars.” He laughed at his own joke and pointed his key fob at his Lexus, locking the doors.

  There was no turning back now. I followed behind as he walked to the front of the brick building and pushed the buzzer.

  “Yep,” said a deep voice crackling through the speaker.

  “It’s Kevin Lucas.” He glanced up toward a camera mounted above the door and gave a half-hearted wave.

&nbs
p; The door vibrated, and Kevin pulled it open, ushering me through in front of him.

  “Up the stairs,” he said.

  The air tasted like wet cement as I forced my legs to climb the narrow staircase. I could practically feel Kevin’s eyes groping my ass as he followed a step behind. How had I agreed to this in the first place? I didn’t feel prepared to be surrounded by the top guns of Chicago real estate. As if that wasn’t enough pressure, I’d have to spy for Jacqueline, too. My hands shook, and I steadied them on the railing. I was in over my head. Music and laughter drifted out from behind the double-door in front of me. I stopped and turned back to look at my companion, hoping he would offer to go first.

  “What are you waiting for?” Kevin reached past me and pulled open the door, revealing a spacious room with lofted ceilings. The solid wood walls reminded me of a royal parlor and increased my curiosity about the exclusive club. A dozen or so men stood in clusters, drinks in hand, talking and laughing with one another. A couple of women wearing cocktail dresses and sparkling jewelry leaned close together and nibbled on appetizers. No one noticed our entry. I was probably making too big a deal out of this whole thing. My shoulders relaxed. Kevin jabbed my arm with his elbow.

  “Let’s get a drink,” he said.

  I walked next to him toward the far side of the room. His stubby fingers brushed against the small of my back, and I flinched. I stepped away from his hand and closer to the mirrored shelves of the bar in front of us. A tall guy about my age wore a formal bartender uniform and poured a drink behind the counter. He pushed the glass toward an overweight man in a business suit.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender turned toward us. His longish, dirty-blonde hair fell past his ears, his turquoise eyes disarming me. I glanced toward Kevin.

  “Black Label on the rocks,” Kevin said.

  The bartender’s eyes connected with mine, holding on a beat longer than necessary and causing me to forget how to speak.

  “Vodka and tonic.” I smiled and tightened my abs.