by Dawn Umrie
“Rissy!” Brook breaks free from Mike and practically sprints in my direction. We hug like we haven’t seen each other in ages, when in fact it was just last night.
“Hi, sweetie! I. Am. So. Freaking. Excited!”
“Me, too! We need this, girl.”
Mike casually walks over and wraps me up in a brotherly hug that threatens to cut off my circulation. “Are you two ladies ready to get waxed, buffed, and shined?” he says with a cheeky grin.
Brook huffs out a breath, “We aren’t going to the car wash, babe! You’re such a guy!”
He pinches her nose lightly, then walks ahead of us to the truck, opening the door and standing there like a chauffeur driver.
Bowing as we enter, “Your chariot awaits, my ladies.” Changing lady to the plural form… and the sweetheart award goes to?
Giggling like two silly girls at a slumber party, we step onto the running board and get in. Five minutes later, Mike double parks in front of the spa, Lotus, to let us out. “Call me when you’re ready, and I’ll pick you guys up.”
Parking in this area is a nightmare on the weekend, so Mike offered to be our driver today. He said he was teaching a couple of classes at the gym, so it wasn’t a big deal. Brook turns to Mike and kisses him on the cheek in response.
Mike gives Brook a quick peck on the lips, “I wouldn’t object to you getting one of those Brazilian waxes I’ve heard about.” He says, winking playfully.
She slaps him on the arm and I stand on the sidewalk laughing at how charming these two are together. “Rissy doesn’t a guy named Rico do the Brazilian waxes?” She turns toward me biting her lip.
He grabs her and whispers in her ear, but I couldn’t hear what he said. I could only imagine.
Brook and I walk inside the spa, and while Brook checks us in, I do a three-sixty around the reception area with my mouth agape. The room is luxurious without being ostentatious, with its three-dimensional white lotus flowers gracing the walls, the soft gold and aqua embossed wallpaper, and multiple crystal chandeliers raining down from the vaulted ceiling.
I jump at Brook’s voice as she whispers loudly. “Oh. My. God. Get a load of this place!”
I nod my head in agreement, stunned stupid. “I may be a simple girl, but I could get used to this. God, Brook, this is too much.”
She hugs me. “It’s not nearly enough. Now come on, the woman said that there are wine and libations back there.” She says and giggles, and I know it’s because of the word, libations.
Seth
We all begin to stand up in my boardroom at Vas, smiles on everyone’s faces. The Meyer Group CEO and his head team flew in last night to try to close a deal in person and that we just did. After the successful conference call, we had a couple of weeks ago, it was only inevitable that we hash out the final details in person.
As my team and his shake hands and offer each other the obligatory small talk, I shake hands with Mr. Meyer, Senior. I mentally give a, fuck yeah, after his handshake, this deal is the largest monetary exchange of my career. “Glad we could come to a favorable agreement on both sides, Mr. Vastola.” Mr. Meyer offers, as he pats me on the back.
“Please, call me Seth, we’ll be dealing with each other a lot from this point on.”
“Looking forward to it, Seth. So, in turn, call me David.”
“I am too, David, thanks.”
After the room empties, I sit back in the chair and absorb the enormity of the deal that just transpired. Lost in thought, Janine sits in the chair right next to mine and scoots over a bit closer.
“Wow, Seth, you absolutely nailed this final meeting.”
MISTER Vas.
Why does everything that comes out of her mouth sound like an innuendo? Maybe I read too much into her actions when I shouldn’t since they grate on my nerves. The fact that she does an incredible job, makes her and her comments more tolerable.
“Thank you. I’m surprised at how smoothly it went. Anyway, I’m going to get out of here.” I say while cracking my neck. “There’s been enough action for one day.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, but I’ll see you bright and early, Seth.”
I don’t even want to know what she meant by that as I walk out of the room.
Merissa
Brook and I practically float out of Lotus after having been cleansed of all our sins in there. We join arms and walk across the street to the Riverside Hotel. Brook made reservations ahead of time, or we would never get a table.
I feel so blessed for not only this amazing day she’s gifting me, but to be given the gift of her friendship.
We’re immediately led to the outdoor patio area to a table facing the street and the hostess hands us their brunch menu after we sit. “Your server will be over in just a few minutes while you take the time to look over the menu. In the meantime, can I offer you, ladies, a Peach Bellini, a Bloody Mary, or a Mimosa?”
My mouth practically waters, “I’ll have the Peach Bellini, please.”
“Yum, I’ll have the same,” Brook says while opening the menu. “Holy crap, I could eat everything on this menu and since it’s Mike’s treat, I just might.”
Laughing with her, I put the opened menu back down on the table. “You are so evil, but, really, Brook, I can’t thank you both enough for this. I don’t remember the last time I felt special.”
Brook reaches across the table for both of my hands, squeezing them in her own, “That’s because you are special, Rissy, and don’t you ever forget that. Okay, enough of the mushy stuff, I’m starving.”
We close our menus quickly, both of us knowing what we want.
I glide my finger through the condensation on the drink. “That spa, though. Ah-Mazing.” I take a sip of my Peach Bellini, “Much like this, mm.”
Brook closes her eyes, “It was almost as good as sex. Almost.” She clinks my glass.
“Yeah, well, it’s been so long for me… and so far from memorable that I would vote the spa experience as being the better of the two.”
She furrows her brows, “Yeah, and we need to change all that before your vag seals itself up from lack of use.”
Holding my lips together tightly so that the Bellini won’t spray out, I nearly choke to death. “Thank you for saying that,” I announce while coughing. “Now, I have to Google that shit!”
Brook takes her phone out of her purse, saying the words out loud as she types. “Will your vag seal itself up from lack of use?”
And 4,580,000 results pop up.
We both look at each other with our eyes opened wide.
“Well, at least I’m not alone,” I say with a sly smile.
Seth
I enter through Graffiti’s front door, and immediately, the song, “Let’s Do the Time Warp Again” from that fucked-up movie, the Rocky Horror Picture Show plays in my head. I browse the dimly lit room and see a sparse amount of people. I approach the bar and am immediately greeted by the bartender.
“Hi, what can I get you?” he says with a smile while wiping up a spill.
“No, thanks, I’m actually here to see the owner.” I lift my Rolex to check the time again, glad that Mike mentioned he’d be here when I texted him earlier.
He eyes me quizzically before taking his phone out of his black apron pocket. Holding up his finger in the universal just a minute gesture, I assume he’s letting his boss know my intentions. “I’m sorry, your name is? “Mr. Vastola.” Never Seth when I’m negotiating business. I watch him as he repeats my name, dragging it out as if the person on the other end doesn’t understand.
Offering me another smile, “Go all the way down that skinny hallway,” he says while pointing toward the back, “Third door on the right.”
“Appreciate it, thanks.” This should be interesting after the comment Mike made about him at the Gym, but dealing with assholes is something I’m used to, unfortunately.
I knock on the door and a voice that sounds like they just smoked a pack of cigarettes answers.
&
nbsp; “Yes, you may… enter.”
As if he’s royalty and I’m the lowly servant.
Fuck that.
I approach his desk, which looks like the aftermath of a bomb that exploded and extend my arm for a handshake, “Hello, I’m Mr. Vastola, CEO of Vas Enterprises here in downtown Ft. Lauderdale.”
“The names, Mr. Polanski, owner of Graffiti’s.” He raises his chin as if in challenge.
Alright, I’ll make him think we’re on an even playing field.
“Nice to meet you. My company is a commercial real estate brokerage firm,” I begin, as he looks at me the same way a kid does when they don’t understand a complicated math problem. “My company is interested in buying Graffiti’s.”
He shuffles through the pile of crap in front of him. “Well, Graffiti’s ‘ain't for sale.”
In my head, I’m giving him the bird. “I realize this, but I thought maybe we could negotiate a price that might convince you to.”
He taps his meaty fingers on top of a boatload of paperwork, which I assume is due to the fact that I don’t see a computer anywhere in sight.
“It will take a lot more than you comin’ in here with your fancy suit and smooth talkin’ to try to convince me to sell this place.”
A far leap from his Mr. Polanski introduction. I scan his desk and find a Post-it note on top of the pile of shit. “How about I take this piece of paper,” I hold it up. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I remove a Cross pen. “and write down a number.”
He sits up straighter in his chair. “I’m listening.”
I knew that would get your attention.
I write down a figure and I know that I’m low-balling him, but I also know it will leave me plenty of room for negotiation when he counter offers. And guys like him always counteroffer to make themselves feel like they are in control of the negotiation when in fact, they never are.
Folding the paper, I place it in front of him while leaning both hands on his desk since there are no chairs. He opens the paper slowly as I read his face, seeing the slightest change in his facial expression. Someone else might have missed it, but in my line of work, I’ve become a pro at reading people.
He opens a drawer and pulls out a pen of his own, pulling the top off with his teeth and attempts to write with it, only to stop and shake it back and forth.
If it weren’t for the plans I have for this neighborhood, I’d say, fuck this shit and walk out right now rather than have to deal with this moron.
Copying my previous actions, he plops the paper next to my hand. I can’t contain my smirk when I see how he had crossed out my figure and chicken-scratched his numbers underneath. Coming in well under the market value analysis I performed on the property a few days prior, and even after figuring in the cost of a complete gut job in my head, I scored a great deal.
I reach my hand out to shake on it, “You’ve got a deal, Mr. Polanski.”
As the saying goes, ‘money talks, bullshit walks.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Seth
As I walk off the elevator to my penthouse building’s lobby area, I feel my phone vibrate in my short’s pocket. I’m getting ready to hit the pavement before work, which means it’s only 5:30 AM, and there’s only one person who would call me this early, Vee. She’s also an early bird… and a night owl like me—we basically don’t sleep much. It must be a Vastola trait.
She greets me in her usual perky tone, and even though I don’t sleep a whole lot, doesn’t mean I’m fuckin’ chipper in the morning, especially before my cup of coffee… and she knows this.
“Good morning big brotha’!”
“Really, Vee? It’s too fuckin’ early for you.”
“What if I was calling because of an emergency?” she says in a serious tone suddenly.
“Because, A, you call me at least a couple of times a week at this time, which by the way, should stop. And, B, you wished me a good morning at the start of this conversation. Not usually how you’d start an emergency phone call.”
She huffs into the phone. “I wanted to talk to my big brother before he gets so involved with ruling his empire and he doesn’t have time to talk to his amazingly caring sister.”
“I always have time for you and you know it, just not at five-fuckin’-thirty in the morning,” I say while laughing into the phone.
“You’re an ass.”
I could almost see the pout on her little doll face. I love this little shit more than she’ll ever know. “Listen, I’m coming by South Shores later this morning, maybe around 10? You think you could make it a point to be around?”
“Sure, everything okay, Seth?”
“Quite. I’d just rather talk to you in person.”
“Alright, go then. “‘Run, Forest, run!’” she says in an awful country accent.
I end the call, so I could hide my laughter because that would have the same effect as adding more kindling to an already roaring fire.
It’s still dark outside as I step onto the pavers and breathe in the fresh morning air. I listen to the waves crashing ashore while placing my earbuds in and selecting my running music playlist. Each song I’ve thoughtfully chosen to hopefully increase the amount of dopamine in my brain.
Taking off in a slow jog to warm up, I let “Numb” by Linkin Park wash over me like a balm from my head to my feet with each hit of the pavement. Feeling the immediate sheen of sweat coat my skin from the humidity, I begin to feel the coiled-up tension within me slowly unravel.
Merissa
I’m wearing one of my favorite dresses, a sleeveless crème-colored v-neckline joined by a shiny gold bar. I completed the look with a pair of gold gladiator sandals and a fishtail braid.
Today, I’ve decided to get into Lucy and drive to the real estate agency not far from here. I would walk, but it’s only 10:30 in the morning and it’s already 83 degrees, so I don’t want to look like I just came from a sweat factory. I’m probably jumping the gun by choosing this agency, but after having sacrificed and saved for so long, what have I got to lose.
I turn my engine off and walk up to the door that reads South Shores. Remembering that I forgot to put quarters in the meter, I go over to it and slide a couple into the machine, knowing it’s probably one too many for the amount of time I’ll be in there.
Well, here goes nothing.
South Shores screams upscale real estate with its rich hardwood floors, modern artwork, and mirrors and glass… everywhere. I’ve heard that mirrors and glass make a room feel bigger, but I just found out that they could also make a person feel smaller. I wanted to come here, yet, now I’m having second thoughts.
I’m twisting my hands together and consider going out the way I came in…and quickly…when a clean-cut gentleman, probably around my age, comes out from a back room.
Smiling with his hand outstretched in greeting, he gently shakes my hand in a hold that lasts a tad longer than I would have considered the norm, but only because he seems a bit distracted.
“Welcome to South Shores, I’m Tim Roberts, and you are?”
I release my hand from his, “Thank you, I’m Merissa Manolas.”
He stares at me as if he’s thinking to himself, but the pause is a little unnerving. “Beautiful name. Is it Italian?”
“I’m Italian and Greek, so I’m not really sure.”
“Ah, so let’s go on over and have a seat, shall we? Can I get you a water, coffee?”
“No, thanks,” I say while sitting in a chair behind a glass partition.
I proceed to tell him of my wishes for a rental property and my desire to stay close by, which I knew would be asking too much, but what the hay. When he asked my price range, he didn’t say anything negative, but I saw his right eyebrow raise just a little and do this twitchy thing. So, I took that tic as an… Oh, hell no. Tim ended up taking my number, promising to scour through the multiple listings on his computer and then give me a call.
There are other agencies, but I woke up wanting to make some ki
nd of move forward, even if it was only one step.
Seth
Sipping my second cup of coffee since I arrived at South Shores, Vee just left for a showing a couple of minutes ago, but I decided to stick around. We talked about my most recent purchase of Graffiti’s. By week’s end, it will officially be mine. When she heard the name, she wrinkled her nose like she smelled roof tar, and said, “You do plan to change that God-awful name, right?”
I will be changing everything about the place, including its name. I’ve already contacted my interior designer who did both my penthouse and several offices at Vas Enterprises, including mine. Saturday night, I’m taking her over there for a walk-through and to discuss my vision for the place, besides the involvement of a gigantic wrecking ball.
Throwing my cup in the trash can by the desk, I pull my suit jacket off the back of the chair and drape it across my arm and grab the keys to my Land Rover.
As I walk down the hallway, before I could even see Tim, I hear him talking animatedly to someone. It’s not until I peer through the glass that I suddenly feel like my feet landed in quicksand and am physically unable to take a step further.
It’s her.
Embodying the appearance of a Grecian goddess in a white dress and gold sandals—the straps reaching all the way up her calves. I watch as she crosses and uncrosses her legs, imagining how silky they would feel under my palms as I ran them up to her soft inner thighs.
A fancy braid hangs down to the middle of her back that begs to be held and used to tilt her head back in order to kiss every inch of her elegant neck—and bite.
Fuck.
As she gets up from her chair, Tim hands her a card and reaches for her hand, which she accepts with her long slender fingers. I step out of view since resorting to being a fuckin’ creeper while she walks toward the front door. I want to beat Timmy’s ass as I watch his eyes, radar in on her ass all the way out the damn door.