Chapter 15 - Valerie
Today is important. If my buyer likes this property, it’ll be a nice little commission for me and it’ll skyrocket me to the top of the office’s sales board for the month. It’s the month before performance reviews which means I need to be on top of my game.
Before I walk out the door I look at myself one more time in my full-length mirror. My navy blue pencil skirt hugs my hips just the way I like, and my cream blouse is tight with a lace neckline. My blazer cinches at the waist the way I like it to and I’ve done my hair in loose curls and my makeup is understated and flattering. I feel fierce and ready to close this deal. I tug at the bottom of my blazer and spin on my heels towards the door.
It’s 9:30am, so I have more than enough time to meet up with the seller’s agent for the keys and then get to the property for the 11:00am viewing. I’ll stop at that coffee shop across the road beforehand, as a treat to myself after a hard week. I always like a quiet moment before a sale to get my head together.
When I step outside the sun is shining and I take a deep breath. This is good, and I can feel the familiar energy humming inside me when I’m about to try to sell. I love my job. I hop in my car and head to the other real estate agent’s office.
“Chris, how are you?” I ask when I get out of the car. “Thanks again for the tip.”
He’s waiting for me outside and shakes my hand warmly.
“No worries, Val. It’s a stunner of a property, you’re gonna love it. The owner has done it all up himself over the past few years and he’s done an amazing job. You won’t find anything of this value in that location. Is your buyer serious?”
“Would I be here if he wasn’t?” I retort. Chris smirks at me.
“Just had to ask,” he winks. I grab the keys from him and turn towards my car.
“You shouldn’t doubt me, Chris. They don’t call me the SoHo shark for nothing!” I grin at him. “I’d better head down there. All good for 11 o’clock with the owner?”
“I’m just waiting on a call back now, he hasn’t answered his phone. We confirmed yesterday and there were no issues.”
“And you’re giving me shit about my buyer being serious,” I say to him, rolling my eyes in an exaggerated motion. He laughs and waves me away.
I make it down to SoHo in time to have that coffee. I savour it on the small chair outside the cafe, waiting for my buyer to show up. I pull out my phone and text Chris.
Got that confirmation from the owner yet?
A minute later my phone buzzes
All good.
I finish the last few sips of my coffee when my buyer arrives. He pulls up in his white Lamborghini, parking directly in front of me like the spot was held for him. Some people are just lucky, I think. The driver’s side door opens and Marino steps out.
He looks like he could be in the Sopranos, with slicked back hair and a pale pink button-down shirt with one too many buttons undone. His neck is adorned with a gold chain, and his protruding stomach betrays one too many pasta meals.
“Val!” He says with his arms outstretched in greeting, million-dollar smile plastered all over his face. He swings his arm forward and grabs my outstretched hand in an enthusiastic handshake. Pumping my hand up and down a few times he smiles again.
“Looking gorgeous as always, Miss Brooks,” he continues. “So what’s this place like anyways?”
“It’s not even on the market yet. I’m really excited about this one, I thought of you right away when I came across it. I think it would be a perfect little investment property for you.”
We cross the road and head towards the building. I fumble with the keys that Chris gave me, trying two before getting the right one for the front door. We step through into a wide lobby.
“So the building only has four units, and this one takes up the entire top floor on the third storey. It’s been refurbished beautifully over the past few years.”
I keep talking, pointing out features as we walk towards the elevator. It comes easily to me, talking and selling and keeping people interested. We get into the elevator and I use the swipe key to get access to the top floor. The doors close and we start going up. My heart is beating unusually fast. I’m excited for this sale.
Marino is one of my best buyers, always on the lookout for another investment property. He’s looking around with a knowing eye. He’s quiet, but I’ve come to learn that that’s a good thing. I’m glad that the owner confirmed the viewing this morning, Marino can be very fickle and I know it would have annoyed him to reschedule.
The elevator door dings and we step through.
“It’s just through here,” I say, fumbling with the keys again.
We’re standing in a long corridor, the walls are an old exposed brick. The door has been painted a sleek black colour with a simple number “4” hanging at eye level. There’s only one key left to use, so I slide it into the lock. It clicks effortlessly and I open the door, getting out of the way for Marino to step through.
“Ladies first,” he says with a wink. Never heard that one before, I think with a tight smile. I step through to a large loft space.
Chris wasn’t kidding, it’s been refurbished beautifully. The exposed brick runs along the entire side of the wall, and the front of the room is floor to ceiling windows. Bright white sun streams into the apartment, showing off the sleek and modern decor.
It’s a large open plan space with the kitchen directly to the right and a living area straight ahead. Everything is white, sleek, granite, stainless steel. Exactly what you’d want if you were buying an upmarket loft in SoHo. Exactly my kind of place. I would love to live in a place like this, and I’m guessing whoever owns it is sad to see it go. I walk in and step aside, letting the property speak for itself.
A few steps take me towards the living area. I notice a few dirty glasses on the coffee table and frown. As I get closer I notice an empty bottle of whiskey lying on the floor next to the couch and my heart drops to my stomach. So much for the property being ready for viewing.
The anger is bubbling up inside me and I make a mental note to mention it to Chris. If I’m going to be bringing through my best clients, the property needs to be spotless. Anything less than perfect is completely unacceptable. The buyers for these kinds of properties are turned off by the slightest imperfection, and it reflects badly on me as a professional.
We walk around and Marino inspects the kitchen. He looks at me and nods.
“It’s nice,” he says. He glances at the dirty dishes on the living room table. “And it’s... lived in,” he says with a chuckle. My cheeks burn slightly.
“Sorry about that, the seller’s agent confirmed it was ready this morning, maybe the owner was in a hurry.”
“It’s no problem Val, a few dishes doesn’t detract from the look of the place. I could definitely turn this into a moneymaker. There’s a separate bedroom?”
“Separate bedroom with a huge bathroom and walk-in closet. You’re going to love it.”
We take a few steps towards the closed bedroom door. My palms are sweating and my heart is beating unusually fast. Typically people don’t leave their doors closed for a viewing, but this owner could just have different habits. Still, I’m more nervous than usual. I take a breath and plaster a smile all over my face for Marino’s benefit. I turn the handle and step through the door in one fluid motion.
Oh.
My.
God.
The scene that greets me is not the pristine multi-million dollar bedroom I was expecting. It’s a disaster. My eyes circle around the room and take in the scene. Marino is close behind me and I hear him make a wordless exclamation under his breath.
There are clothes everywhere, like someone stumbled home and took all their clothes off and left them wherever they fell. The bed is a mess. There are pillows strewn all over the floor and it hasn’t been made. The room smells stuffy and is dark with the blinds closed. I take another step in. The horror spreads from my stomach up to my throat as the blankets start moving.
Someone is in the bed.
I’m frozen still, watching as the person starts waking up. My shock turns to anger. I am seething. White hot fury is ripping through me. Chris lied to me! There’s no way he got confirmation the property was ready. I’m waiting for this good-for-nothing hungover irresponsible owner to wake up and see us. I can’t believe this. He’s going to ruin this sale for me. I can’t even turn away to look at Marino, my eyes are glued to the bed.
Whoever is in it is moving a bit more now, clearly waking up. All of a sudden he makes a noise and jumps up, sitting in bed looking at us.
“Who the fuck are you! Shit!”
My jaw flies open. It can’t be him. I can’t believe this is happening. He’s rubbing his eyes and temples, clearly very, very hungover. Finally I take a deep breath and say the name that’s been at the front of my mind all week.
“Doctor O’Neill?!”