by Laura Wolfe
He nodded and grabbed a bottle of Kettle One, giving a generous pour into a glass.
Jacqueline had instructed me not to drink too much, but I needed at least one to take the edge off. Besides, I couldn’t pass up free top-shelf alcohol. The gorgeous man slid the drinks across the counter toward us.
“Thanks,” Kevin said.
I flashed a demure smile toward the bartender. “Thank you.”
A broad-shouldered man who looked like he’d once been the quarterback of his college football team stormed up behind us and patted Kevin on the back.
“Kevin, nice to see you!”
“Howard! How’s business?”
“Well, you know. Not too bad.” The men laughed as if sharing a private joke. Howard glanced over at me.
“This is Mara Butler.” Kevin pushed me forward. “She’s a realtor at Greystone. CBR Magazine just named her one of ‘Thirty Under Thirty’ in Chicago real estate.”
“Ah, a big shot!” Howard held out his hand, and I shook it with a firm grip. “Howard Aldrich. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” I tried to think of something charming to say but drew a blank.
“Well, I’m due for another drink. I’ll see you around.” Howard stepped toward the bar as Kevin pulled me toward the appetizer table.
Kevin leaned in close. “You know who Howard Aldrich is, right?”
“It sounds familiar,” I said, remembering what Jacqueline had told me about Natalia’s affair with the man.
“He owns Chicago Rentals, the biggest apartment rental company in the city. The guy owns more square feet of the city than any other person here.”
Then I remembered more. Chicago Rentals owned one of the dilapidated buildings Jacqueline had me report to the building inspector. One of the buildings she’d tagged with spray paint. Howard wasn’t one of the owners who’d sold out. After hanging up with him, she’d called him a slumlord. If he was a slumlord, he was good at it.
As we inched closer to the spread of food, I surveyed the guests. It was an older crowd, lots of gray and thinning hair offset by thick midsections. I was one of only a handful of women who’d been invited to the party. Thankfully, Natalia was nowhere in sight. Other than the hot guy behind the bar, I was by far the youngest person around. Every couple of minutes, a thunder of bellowing laughter would erupt and rumble through the room like an earthquake. I recognized a few familiar faces—Jay Benito, the owner of City First Realty, Pete Lousa, a swarthy lender I’d met at the charity dinner, and Roger Burton, one of the city’s most successful developers. Roger was the main reason Jacqueline had sent me here tonight.
I balanced the small glass plate on my hand and used my other hand to pluck some cocktail shrimp with the tongs. The selection was impressive—shrimp, cheeses, pâté, and even caviar.
Kevin wandered away from the table, absorbed into a group of boisterous men laughing about commissions. I occupied myself by piling my plate with an assortment of food and hoping my loner status wasn’t too noticeable.
Two men behind me discussed a deal on south State Street. I couldn’t make out an address, and it sounded like the deal had already happened. The task Jacqueline had given me was unrealistic. No one was going to give up confidential information to some realtor they’d met only minutes before. My teeth slid through the creamy Gruyere cheese before crunching into the crispy rice cracker. As long as I was here, I’d enjoy the food and not stress about Jacqueline’s expectations.
“You going to beat out Jacqueline for Top Producer this year?”
A lump of food lodged itself in my throat. I spun around. Kevin stood behind me with Roger Burton by his side.
“I’m trying.” Kevin looked at the floor and shook his head. “She’s way ahead of me right now.”
I breathed again, realizing the question was directed at Kevin, not me.
Roger touched his silver goatee, the side of his mouth curving into a lopsided smile. “I might be able to help you out.”
Both men glanced at me.
“Roger, this is Mara Butler. She’s a realtor at Greystone. She made CBR Magazine’s ‘Thirty Under Thirty’ list this year.”
Roger eyed me, showing no recollection of having already met me at the CBR charity dinner. “Congratulations. Nice to meet you. Hope you don’t mind if I steal Kevin for a while.” Without waiting for an answer, Roger motioned for Kevin to follow him, and I was once again left standing alone.
I set down my plate. What was he telling Kevin? It was something they didn’t want me to hear. I hovered close to the food table, watching the two men stop in the far corner of the room. Roger acted animated, leaning toward Kevin and waving his hand while he spoke. I couldn’t hear their conversation without following them. That would be too obvious.
A finger tapped me on the shoulder, and I jumped.
“Hi. I’m Pete Lousa, Corcoran Brothers Lending.”
“Yeah, hi.” I straightened my shoulders, regaining my composure. “I think we met at Germania Place a few months back.”
Pete and I engaged in small talk for several minutes, eventually exchanging cards even though I still had several of his cards from our last encounter. Pete didn’t need to know I’d never recommend him over my guy, Justin Blakely from Gold Coast Lending, although Maeve constantly reminded us we were supposed to give buyers at least three options when it came to lenders and inspectors. Like Jacqueline said, Justin got deals done. Sometimes only one referral was needed.
I made my way toward the restroom, planning to hit the bar for another drink on my way out. Kevin and Roger remained stationed at the far corner of the room, engaged in some sort of private meeting.
“I heard you’re funding Roger’s newest condo project?” Some guy behind me was speaking to another man. I didn’t recognize either of them, but I froze when I heard Roger’s name, my senses hyper-alert.
“Sure am. It’s a big one. Eighty units,” said the other man. “On Orchard, near Arlington Place.”
“Great location. How’d Roger get his hands on that building?”
“Don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
“Who’s doing the brokerage?”
“He mentioned someone from Greystone. Kevin something or another.”
“Oh. Kevin Lucas. Good for him.”
My heart pounded. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead. The room buzzed around me. Roger was going to announce a new condo development in Lincoln Park. Eighty units. On Orchard, near Arlington. And Kevin was going to list them all. A curtain of cigar smoke obscured the far corner of the room. Through the haze, I could make out Kevin, holding a cigar in one hand, a drink in the other, and grinning like he’d won the lottery.
I rushed into the empty women’s bathroom and locked the door behind me. On the back of Pete Lousa’s business card, I scrawled, Roger Burton, 80-unit condo development on Orchard near Arlington. Jacqueline was going to freak, but at least I’d obtained some confidential information for her. Mission accomplished.
I took a few deep breaths and reapplied my lipstick, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal. Then, I slipped back into the room and approached the bar, craving another drink. The bartender noticed me and smiled. His blue eyes were the color of the sea. They pulled me toward him like the tide. The square set of his jaw paralyzed me. I struggled to say hello, but the word got caught in my throat.
“Would you like another?” he asked, his voice deep and strong.
“Yes. Please,” were the only words I could form. An unfamiliar giddiness fluttered in my stomach as I watched him pour me another vodka and tonic. He’d remembered what I’d ordered. That had to be a good sign. Of course, he was probably trained to remember the drinks people ordered. I wanted to know more about him. Where was he from? What was his name? Did he have a girlfriend? Women probably threw themselves at him all the time.
Kevin materialized through the smoke and let his hand linger on my arm. The bartender’s eyes followed mine toward the unwanted touch.
; “Sorry to leave you alone for so long,” Kevin said. “Having a good time?”
My skin crawled as I pulled my arm away from Kevin. “Yeah. It’s been great.” I couldn’t look at him. “How about you?”
“Yeah, you know. Same ol’, same ol’.” Kevin crossed his arms and cleared his throat.
I waited. Part of me thought Kevin would share the big news with me, that he trusted me. But he didn’t say a word, just puffed on his cigar and scanned the room for more important people. A minute later, he drifted off into another conversation. I glanced toward the bartender again, but he’d already moved on. Further down the counter, he chatted with two older women while he rattled a martini shaker in his hand.
I drank fast, appreciating each gulp of the smooth vodka as it slid down my throat. A banker and an owner of a construction company sidled up to me, congratulating me on my “Thirty Under Thirty” title. After making my way around the room one last time, I said my goodbyes and my thank yous. It was getting late, and I had a meeting scheduled with Jacqueline at the crack of dawn.
Kevin looped his arm around my shoulders, his breath saturated with cigars and scotch. “I can drive you home, you know.”
My muscles constricted. “That’s okay. I’m taking off now. I already called an Uber.”
He stepped back and squeezed my arm. “Maybe another time, then.”
I raised my hand in a wave. “Thanks for inviting me. It was fun.” Before Kevin could make any more inappropriate comments, I turned and strode toward the bar. The bartender’s eyes connected with mine. He smiled.
An unexpected surge of confidence rushed through me, and I wasn’t sure if it stemmed from the alcohol, or my determination to get over Nate, or that I knew I looked good in my little black dress. I pulled out my card and handed it to him. “I’m Mara.”
“Hi, Mara. I’m Damon.” He stopped wiping down the counter. His gaze hung onto me, boring straight through to my soul. The electricity between us was tangible.
He tipped his head in Kevin’s direction. “Is that your boyfriend?”
I made a face. “No. Not even close.”
“Good.” He smiled again, a stray piece of his blonde hair skimming the side of his unshaven face. “Can I take you out to dinner sometime?”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling as if I couldn’t breathe. “That would be great.”
He lifted my card. “Now, I’ve got your number.”
“Well, I’ve got to get going.”
“Have a good night, Mara.”
“You, too.”
I scrambled out the door and down the stairs, desperate to leave before I did something embarrassing to cause Damon to change his mind.
Have a good night, Mara. I loved the way he’d said my name, how the word balanced on his tongue, and flowed smoothly from his lips. Cars whizzed past as I strolled down Armitage, my feet bouncing with each step. Damon’s face floated in front of me, the stubble on his skin, and those eyes like the ocean. I chuckled under my breath, awestruck by our chance encounter. When I reached the corner, I took in my surroundings and remembered where I was. Much too far from home to walk. I’d forgotten to call an Uber. I raised my hand, and a cab pulled next to the curb. My body landed heavily in the back seat as I climbed in and gave the driver my address. I lowered the window, enjoying the sensation of the wind in my hair. I imagined I was perched on the spire of the Hancock Building, flying high above the city.
◆◆◆
I arrived at Starbuck’s five minutes late and found Jacqueline sitting at a table near the front windows, a scowl on her face. I slipped into the chair across from her, my body still levitating from my encounter with Damon. Before I could report back to her on the CCC meeting, she shoved the newest issue of CBR Magazine toward me. I grabbed it, dying to see my profile. But Jacqueline had opened the magazine to a different page. An article entitled, ‘Chicago’s Top Producer Balances Work and Family,’ accompanied by a full-spread photo of Natalia Romanov, her two kids, their three nannies, and a Labradoodle filled the page. Natalia’s assistant hadn’t made it into the picture.
“Three nannies for two kids?” I asked. “That must be how she balances work and family.”
“What bullshit.” Jacqueline shook her head in disgust. “This article confirms all the rumors I’ve been hearing about her lately.”
“You mean about the Russian mob?”
“No. Not those rumors,” she said, a sharp edge to her voice. “Natalia’s going to be starring in some stupid reality show on HGTV. What a joke.”
“Oh, man.” I could tell by the faraway look in Jacqueline’s eyes that she was jealous. “Natalia might need to hire a couple more nannies,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.
Jacqueline didn’t laugh. Before I could flip the page over to the ‘Thirty Under Thirty’ article, she snatched the magazine back and stuffed it in her bag.
“What did you learn at the CCC meeting?”
I leaned toward her, my fingertips gripping the edge of the table. “Roger Burton is announcing a new development in Lincoln Park, on Orchard near Arlington. Eighty units.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Good work!”
“There’s one more thing,” I paused and looked down at the floor. “Kevin is listing the development.”
She cocked her head, eyes simmering. Her fists slammed against the table, nearly toppling my fresh cup of coffee. “Roger’s listing eighty units with Kevin?” Her forehead scrunched into creases. “Fuck!”
A woman sitting behind us glared over her shoulder. A pudgy toddler gnawed on a cake pop beside her. Jacqueline stared beyond them, taking no notice.
“It won’t affect you this year,” I said. “Those condos won’t be ready to close for six months, at least.”
Jacqueline clutched her coffee and shook her head. “I don’t care. It affects next year. That development should have been mine.”
“There will be other developments,” I said, keeping my voice upbeat. “Besides, you already have so much business. It doesn’t really matter.”
Her steely eyes liquefied, surrounding me. “Every deal matters, Mara.”
I slunk back in my chair, my face stinging as if she’d slapped me. The image of Betty’s Victorian on Mohawk flashed in my head, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t stolen the listing for myself.
“Did you get any other leads?”
I looked at my hands. “No.” The only other lead I’d gotten was for a potential date with Damon, but I wasn’t about to tell Jacqueline about that. I’d never seen her in such a foul mood.
“Fucking Kevin,” she said. “Why do good things happen to horrible people?”
I shrugged, knowing better than to tell her that Kevin was a decent guy in some ways. A little slimy, maybe, but not the purely evil villain she made him out to be.
The woman with the toddler huffed. She scraped her chair backward, pulling her sticky child out the door while throwing a disapproving glance in our direction.
Jacqueline sighed and stared out the window like she was on another planet.
After a minute of awkward silence, I scooted my chair out, eager to get away from her. “I got the showing schedule you emailed me for today. All twelve of them. And I’ll cover the inspection at 1:00.”
She nodded, but her eyes were glazed and unfocused. I slung my bag over my shoulder and scurried out the door, leaving her sitting alone, staring off into space.
33
Lydia Burton sat across from Jacqueline and me, sipping butternut squash soup off her spoon. The older woman’s makeup was overdone, and her hair perfectly molded into two large curls at her shoulders. Jacqueline had forced me to come along to the lunch meeting at Cafe Nordstrom, telling me it was time to talk real estate with Lydia and that Roger’s new development on Orchard should have been hers. She was a thousand times more qualified than Kevin to handle such a large project. Lydia was her only chance to get in on the deal.
I broke apart a steaming roll, my fingertips holding on gingerly.
The quiver of excitement rippling through my body was interfering with my usual appetite. Damon had called me last night and asked me to go out for sushi with him on Friday night. After I’d happily accepted, we talked for another fifteen minutes about the CCC, my career in real estate, and his part-time job as a bartender while he completed his second year of law school. The conversation had been easy like we already knew each other and had simply forgotten the details of each other’s lives. We hadn’t even gone on a date yet, and he already blew Nate out of the water.
The clang of Lydia’s spoon against the edge of her bowl brought me back to the table. “The depth of flavor in this soup is exquisite,” she said, pursing her bright-red lips.
“I heard Roger has a new condo development in Lincoln Park.” Jacqueline’s voice was light and bubbly as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Oh, yes, Jacqueline.” Lydia stirred her soup before sipping another spoonful. “He’s always got some development or another in the works.”
“Did you know he’s planning on using a realtor from Greystone to list the units?” Jacqueline paused. “Kevin Lucas.”
Lydia stared at her soup. “No, we don’t usually discuss those things.”
Jacqueline leaned closer to Lydia, lowering her voice. “I don’t like to talk badly about other realtors, especially ones from my own office, but Kevin is known to be a crooked character.”
“Oh, dear.” Lydia shook her head. “Well, it’s not surprising, I guess, given the nature of the business.” She stirred her soup and glanced from me to Jacqueline. “If it were up to me, I’d have you list the building. You are very impressive.”
Jacqueline squinted and offered a bashful smile. “You’re too nice, Lydia.” She straightened up her shoulders. “I do have a lot of experience selling large volumes of condos. And I specialize in Lincoln Park. Your husband wouldn’t be disappointed with my service.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” She gazed at Jacqueline like a proud mother. Then, as if it were her idea, she said, “Tell you what, I’ll recommend you to Roger. In fact, I’ll insist he hire you.”