But for now she watched from the driver’s seat of the Audi S4. Only Sam was home. She was unsure where the bitch Rachel was but she’d be back. And then…
Illiana waited another forty-five minutes then fired up the Audi. As she rolled away she decided she’d rather cap them in broad daylight where she could get a crystal-clear look at the fear in their dying eyes.
The conversation between Cisco and Rachel continued until Cisco was about to order another round of drinks but Rachel shut the party down.
“Sorry, friend, I’ve got an early up-and-at-’em,” she said double snapping her fingers.
Cisco worked a look of disappointment on his face but Rachel knew it was an act, a shitty one at that.
“Hold that thought, I got to pee so badly it’s coming out my eyes,” he laughed at what Rachel knew was a well-worn go-to joke of his. Cisco rose and headed to the rest room. He left his phone and thickly packed money clip on the bar. It was either a test to see if the gal in the red dress was trustworthy or he wanted her to “ooh” and “ah” at the fat stack of paper in the clip. The moment he was out of sight Rachel snatched his phone and found it unlocked. When the smitten bartender standing two feet from her noticed the move, Rachel put a finger to her lips and winked at him. He smiled shyly then went back to polishing glasses that were already sparkling clean. Her secret was safe with him so long as she continued paying him attention.
Cisco’s phone calendar revealed two houses with times and locations he’d be attending the following day. Rachel committed the information to memory then replaced the phone. Cisco hadn’t returned so she took the opportunity to enter the auction info into her phone notes. She then paid the tab as a chess move, establishing control. Cisco would no doubt want to make a big deal of peeling off bills and letting them float to the bar’s surface. Rachel, just stole that moment, which would make Cisco want to reclaim the upper hand—control.
As Cisco walked past the row of barstools a frown came over his face. “What’s this?” he said sliding onto the barstool and picking up the paid bill. “You don’t pay the bill, Cisco pays the tab.”
Cisco. Third person…naturally.
“It’s all right. Listen this has been fun but I’ve got to put this head on my pillow,” Rachel said rising. “Thank you again.”
“Aw, come on, you’re killing me here. I got another spot picked out for a nightcap. You’re gonna love it. What do ya say?”
Rachel extended a hand with an I’m-sorry smile. Cisco reluctantly grabbed the hand then turned it over and kissed it. In her peripheral Rachel saw the bartender roll his eyes.
“Can I get a number or something? I mean that dress—”
“You’ll see me again, Mr. Glanis.” And with that Rachel did a cute swivel move on the ball of her Anne Klein and walked out of the bar putting a hefty portion size of motion in her hips. And for good measure she threw a final wink at the millennial bartender.
She might need him later.
Rachel and Sam sat by the pool, clinked glasses of chardonnay together and soaked up the view of the valley all lit up.
“My Uber driver was an interesting guy. He’s an ex-Navy Seal retired and enjoying life with his wife and two daughters.”
“What’s the interesting part?” Sam asked.
“He was hot.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “As hot as Tony Montana?”
“That’s Cisco Glanis to you, mister.”
“Oh, excuse me.”
Rachel clasped her hands behind her back and stretched her shoulders and back until she heard a crack. “We’ve got a nine a.m. tomorrow in a neighborhood called Tulip Grove,” Rachel said.
“And I’ll have the deed officially registered in the name of Steve Sawkins by the time you’re back.”
They slowly eased through the rest of the bottle sitting quietly like teammates the night before the championship game; each going over his and her tasks in their mind’s eye. When they made love later, it was slow and gentle for a single round, before falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Showered with her hair still wet, Rachel chose a yellow blazer with a two-button top. Beneath that she picked out a sexy white lace camisole. The bottom button of the jacket would be done-up, while the top open showing off the cami and her breasts. She went with a light cotton pant that was also yellow and flowy and had thin light brown pinstripes.
“Cisco doesn’t have a chance,” Sam said sliding an arm around her waist from behind and kissing her gently on the neck. She turned to face him and gave him a light kiss on the lips.
“Now, don’t try and distract me.” She shoved Sam away. “There’s money in them there streets.”
An hour later Rachel was at the house up for auction standing with a dozen other potential buyers. Cisco walked in with his hired friend. His eyes nearly left their sockets when he saw Rachel there.
“Whoa, hey, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m working, what about you?”
He almost fell over himself rushing to shake her hand. He blocked out his gal pal all together. Rachel leaned around Cisco.
“Nice to see you again. I’m Julia Sawkins,” she said, extending a hand to Cisco’s friend.
“Deja vu all freakin’ over again,” she said. “I’m Leila.”
“Oh yeah right. Leila, Julia, Julia—whatever,” Cisco said by way of pathetic introduction. “So why are you here?”
“Shopping for a client,” Rachel said.
Cisco’s eyebrows went up, “Why didn’t you tell me you were in the business?”
“My guess is Cisco didn’t ask,” Leila said, clearly bored.
Cisco shot her a scowl, which she ignored. Rachel could tell Cisco had a dozen more questions but the home sales auctioneer commenced with the bidding. While he tossed numbers around Rachel took photos with her tablet and bid a few times at the opening prices. Cisco and another gentlemen immediately raised her. When she was content to tap out, she hauled out her phone and faked a call to her client. As Cisco and the other gentleman continued sparring Rachel moved away from the group and stared up at the roofline specifically at the peak. She took a photo, went back to the call and shook her head. The two bidders seemed more than slightly concerned as if the hot girl in the pantsuit saw something they hadn’t. She killed the call with a headshake and came and stood beside Leila.
“You’re fucking with them,” Leila whispered. “Now I really like you.” She nudged Rachel with her shoulder and strolled away.
Rachel didn’t say anything and tried to hide her smile. Working girls, as streetwise as any grifter.
Rachel had to look away as Cisco was clearly annoyed with over-paying for the house his opponent pushed him to. She remembered Sam mentioned the same thing happened the day prior. She walked to Cisco and congratulated him. He brushed it away and instead asked her to lunch after his next auction. Rachel agreed. She had a feeling Leila wouldn’t be joining them.
Sam’s first stop was Blaylock Notary, est. 2002. The business was a converted cottage with a cedar shake roof. A door chimed as Sam entered. A woman in her early thirties with nutmeg colored hair smiled at Sam from behind a tiny mahogany veneered desk.
“Welcome to Blaylock,” she said. “How can we help you today?”
“I have a dumb question. Everyone in Bullion is so friendly. What’s your secret?”
“Must be something in the water,” she laughed.
“Then I’ll being stopping by the grocer for a case of water after this,” Sam said. He remained standing and rested his hands on the chair-back that sat opposite the brunette. “I need an affidavit. Do I need to set up an appointment or…”
“Oh no, Mr. Wainwright is free and he’ll be happy to help. One moment.” she got up from her desk. As she passed Sam, she gave him a friendly smile mixed with a little something else. When she returned, she said Mr. Wainwright would see him now. As Sam squeezed past her, he took in her vanilla perfume.
The notary was medium build. Sam put him at around forty-five. His black hair was graying at the temples and over the ears. He owned the Bullion hospitality gene until he went over Sam’s paperwork.
“You know, Mr. Sawkins, the signature is a match but I really need Mr. Clarke to witness this.”
Sam had expected this objection. “Actually, under California state law CX90 section 15, the signature and affidavit combined with a witness signature, perhaps the lovely woman who greeted me at the door, will render the document as legally solid as the Redwoods surrounding this very town.”
Sam was positive the guy wouldn’t check the state law. If he did, Sam would have to do some quick dancing.
“I’m not so sure, there’s—”
“Did I mention your filing fee?” Sam said. “The one in addition to the notary cost?” he said laying two hundred dollars on the desk. With the notary fee at a mere thirty-five dollars Sam wasn’t surprised the notary clawed at the cash and jammed it messily into his front pocket. With the money secured he called Alice, his assistant in from the other room to witness the document. Sam noticed she’d reapplied lipstick in the time he stepped into the office until now.
Stop number two was the county court registry. A short man with male pattern baldness and thick lens wire-rimmed glasses popped his head above his cubicle wall and called “next.” Sam stepped forward.
“Good morning. I’m Steve Sawkins and here’s my paperwork,” he said shoveling the pages across to the city worker. He asked him how his day was going but the man didn’t answer.
“Deed huh, okay everything seems—hmm, that’s odd?”
“What’s that?” Sam asked.
“I hadn’t heard that the Clarkes were selling.”
The ills of the small-town con…
“Yup, lucky for me. Turns out they fell in love with Tuscany. We’ve had several nice chats. Apparently the people, wine, food and vistas were just too much to leave behind.”
Sam could read the clerk had a suspicious nature. He hoped the timbre of his voice together with his friendly and easy mannerisms would put the civic worker at ease. This was far from his first rodeo.
“Honestly,” he added, “I feel like the lucky one. Bullion is absolutely gorgeous. You’ve got a great little town here, sir.”
Flatter the man like he had something to do with the town’s greatness.
The clerk looked at him for a few seconds longer through his thick lenses. Then, with a heavy sigh, he had Sam sign and initial where necessary before eventually plunking down three different stamps. Sam thanked him and shook his hand. Steve Sawkins was now the proud owner of their rental Airbnb, barring anyone probing too deep.
Once out on the sidewalk Sam hauled his phone out and text Rachel: I (we) own a million-dollar home.
Rachel sat in a cozy coffee shop called Mother’s Favorite Vase. She read Sam’s text then put the phone down as Cisco approached.
“So how did it go?” she asked.
“It was a piece of shit so I legged it outta there.” He sat opposite Rachel with a smile that was forced. Obviously losing the bid stung.
“No Leila?” Rachel asked.
Cisco gave Rachel a dismissive wave. “Look, tell me what you—who’s your client?”
“Clients, plural, and they are very private, Mr. Glanis.”
“Nuts to that and call me Cisco like you did yesterday.”
“But never Fran.” She smiled coyly.
“You’re cheeky. It works for you, though, not like most chicks.” He waved his hand around obnoxiously until he got the counter girl’s attention. “I don’t imagine you have any booze in this place?” Cisco asked her.
“As a matter of fact, we do. But only beer and wine.”
“Ha, this day’s looking up. A glass of your best red and one for the lady, too.”
Rachel didn’t want wine but she had to give Cisco some amount of control and perhaps the hope that if she got tipsy he might have a shot with her.
“Another dynamite outfit, I see,” he said, giving her the slow body appraisal.
“Thank you, you look nice as well.”
His suit was the same brand and cut as the previous day only this one was steel gray with a pressed white dress shirt beneath. Sam would look good in it, she thought.
The server came by with the wine and let Cisco sample a splash. He gave her a short nod and put his eyes back on Rachel. When the server was out of earshot, he picked up the dialog.
“How does it work and how can I become a client?”
“I work freelance with an emphasis on free as in my freedom. When I consider a client, I vet them first. This takes time, as I’m sure you can appreciate.”
“No, not at all. You want to see some financials. I can get that to you quick but a long vetting period—no chance, not with me.”
Rachel held Cisco’s look. People generally don’t like uncomfortable silences, even bullies. Rachel dragged it out as far as she could.
Finally, “I’m sorry, Cisco. Maybe this is not such a good idea. I have my business, you have yours and—”
“All right, all right,” he said running a hand over his slick hair. “Forget the vetting thing for now. How many clients ya got now?”
Rachel went back to silence.
“What, ya can’t give me that? How am I supposed to—what’s in it for me?”
“I make your life easy, Cisco. And all for a reasonable commission.”
“You always this friggin’ vague?”
Rachel leaned forward and put a slight angry timber to her voice, “This isn’t a pitch fest, Cisco. I’m not here to sell you anything, understood?”
She sat back and crossed her arms.
She could see Cisco’s mind working. He’s a man accustomed to hearing the word yes. His eyes became slits. “You saw something at that house this morning, the roof. What didn’t you like?”
“Well, the soffits showed early signs of rot. Some of the shingles showed wear on the southern exposure and the peak—” she leaned in to whisper, “—isn’t symmetrical. Shoddy construction, my friend. We’re talking new roof to start.”
Cisco sat back and regarded her with awe, admiration and lust all wrapped into one.
Finally, he sputtered, “I saw all that, too. I just…it was…so you really think it needs a new roof? Maybe just a patch job would do.”
Rachel dropped the anger act. “The client I had on the phone, who shall remain nameless, had a prior issue with a roof on another property. I was just doing my due diligence.” She paused. “And I’ve just said more than I should. You’re a bad influence.” She intentionally did a poor job of hiding a smile.
“Okay, no more games,” the investor said with a loud handclap. “Show me a contract or something. I want in. Fast track me on the vetting thing and I’ll be your next client. And if it goes well, I’ll give you something those other guys won’t, I promise you.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“A partnership.”
“Wow, you move fast, Cisco.”
“Damn right I do, so what do ya say?”
Rachel dragged out the act of sipping her wine and slowly placing the glass back on the table. She sat back with and slowly crossed her legs.
“Give me a day or two to consider.”
Cisco leaned his forearms on the table. Rachel could tell he was fighting to control his temper. “Cisco doesn’t wait two days. Especially when I’m bringing so much heat to the deal.”
He was a bully but a simpleton, Rachel thought.
“I get it. We’re all busy. I’ll give you my answer tomorrow. I have a small and unique stable of clients who mean a great deal to me so I need to check my schedule because they deserve full attention as will you if I take you on.” She paused to kill the rest of her wine. “Be patient because if we do this you won’t be disappointed. I may even have something for you right away.” She stood and extended
a hand. “Thank you for the wine and for your interest, Cisco Glanis.”
Cisco stood and kissed her hand as the night before.
“So now do I get a phone number, for business purposes at least?”
Julia smiled and eased close to the big man. She let her warm breath tickle his ear. “You’ll hear from me tomorrow. Have a nice day.”
This time as she walked away she heard him mumble, “fuck me.”
Illiana Tolenti’s heart was nearly beating out of her chest. It was no easy task being in such close proximity to the soon-to-be-dead grifter. Illiana sat at the breakfast bar of Mother’s Favorite Vase and stared at her coffee cup, which was half empty. She pulled a silver flask from her purse and dumped a finger and a half of Maker’s Mark whisky into the black liquid. The counter girl gave her the evil eye and was about to say something but stopped when Illiana’s look froze her out.
The bitch Rachel, who was calling herself Julia this time around, left first and then the douchebag Cisco left a minute later. From her vantage point Illiana only heard snippets of the conversation but she could tell without a doubt the big doofus had it bad for Rachel. Too bad he’d never experience shit with her because the grifter bitch and her boyfriend’s days were numbered—three days max, to be exact.
She killed her spiked coffee and drove back to her hotel. The view from her tiny balcony wasn’t too bad. In fact, it was beautiful but she couldn’t enjoy it. She wouldn’t enjoy such pleasantries until the happy grifters were in pine boxes. Better yet, in a hole somewhere, covered in lime.
She knew where the couple was staying and the town was small enough she didn’t feel the need to sit on them twenty-four-seven. Plus it was obvious they had a game going and would be sticking around awhile.
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