a top-shelf item here, and I’m determined to make this seller some money.”
“How did you get this listing, anyway?” she asked. “Did the owner go through the agency?”
“It rarely works that way,” Nick said. “I know the owner. He’s moving back to DC. The Miami experiment is over.”
They stood facing the water. Across the canal, a row of houses rivaled each other in grandeur and stature, each with gigantic boats tethered to their docks. The setting sun splashed everything tangerine.
“Hey,” Nick said, “is the Miata out front yours?”
“Yup. That’s my ride,” she said proudly.
“I had one like it back in the day,” he said. “Mine was black.”
“Of course.”
“How many miles?”
“Around 85K.”
“Ah,” he said. “You’re loyal.”
“Are you?” she asked.
There was a glint of mischief in her eyes. He wanted to know that side of her.
“Not really. I kept mine two years. It was my first. Bought it cash.”
“I won mine.”
“Won it?” he asked. “How? Like in a raffle?”
The more he got to know her, the more interesting she became.
“No, not a raffle,” she said.
“A game show? Were you on a game show, Leila?”
“No. I wasn’t on a game show.”
“Was it a talk show? They give away cars, right?”
She raised her hands and confessed. “I won it in a pageant.”
Nick saw her with fresh eyes. Her demeanor, walk, even her smile, all of it very practiced and sure. “Yes. I see it.”
Her face crumpled.
“It’s a compliment,” he assured her.
His phone rang. Before taking the call, he said, “We’ll talk later. Put a pin in ‘pageant,’ because that’s where we’ll start.”
* * *
Leila watched Nick walk away, laughing with the caller. What did he see? she wondered. Was she running around town with an invisible tiara on her head? The thought caused her unbearable embarrassment. Tonight, of all nights, she wanted to impress him.
She’d come early to prepare for the party. They’d opted not to hire a DJ but to show off the outdoor sound system, so she hooked an mp3 player up to the stereo. While the caterer set up the food, she had slipped into the guest bathroom, changed out of her jeans and flats, and come out in a ruby-red Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress and heels.
When he’d glanced over his shoulder and caught her staring, a symphony of emotions erupted inside of her. His eyes were as clear as morning, without even a cloud of suspicion or surprise. When he called her simple idea genius, she’d been transported with joy.
Leila didn’t have much time to dwell on her feelings because very soon, the guests arrived, seemingly all at once. At first she kept to the margins, too intimidated to speak to anyone. But when approached, she was prepared.
“List price?”
“Four million.”
“Is that firm?”
“Very much. We believe it’s priced to sell.”
“How many bedrooms?”
“Three bedrooms, including a master suite, and three fully renovated bathrooms.”
“Square footage?”
“Roughly twenty-eight hundred.”
“I need an exact number.”
“Two thousand, eight hundred and seventy-three.”
“There’s no garage. Am I right?”
“There’s a carport.”
“A four-million-dollar house with a carport? Where does the Bentley go?”
“In the carport. The yacht goes on the dock. Have you seen the boat lift? State-of-the-art.”
“Is the seller willing to make any concessions?”
“You’ll have to ask Nick.”
The last couple of questions were from an agent named Marisol Sanchez. Earlier, Nick had introduced her as an old friend. Marisol stood as tall as Leila and wore cigarette pants and high-heeled pumps to better show off her long legs. Leila wanted to know his definition of the word “friend.”
“But he’ll likely say no concessions are necessary,” Leila added. She couldn’t help herself.
“My client will be the judge of that,” Marisol said.
The other agents were equally annoying. Leila was shocked by the behavior of these so-called professionals. They trampled the grass, stomped on the newly polished floors and slammed the kitchen cabinet doors. They pointed to hairline cracks in the ceiling and quizzed Leila on the local zoning laws, as if the only reason their clients would not put in an offer was because they’d likely want to convert the porch into a Florida room.
The most appalling behavior was from one of the agency’s own, Tony Manning. He showed up late.
After chatting with Nick for a while, he came looking for her. “Nick says you’re responsible for this impressive turnout.”
Leila took a look around. The party was in full swing. Now that business was out of the way, everyone appeared more relaxed, drinking and munching on taquitos. Her job was done.
“How would you like to take on my next open house?” he asked.
“Sorry. Nick keeps me busy.”
“I’m sure he does,” Tony said wryly. “That might not always be the case, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just want you to know you can always switch camps.”
“Nick’s been very nice to me. I wouldn’t think of switching.”
“I’ve known that guy a long time. He’s a lot of things, but nice isn’t one of them.”
Leila looked him in the eye. “Tonight’s signature drink is a classic margarita. Would you like to try it?”
“I can
