Page 3 of Out of the Shadow

I still at his words. How am I going to help him now, without my trust fund? I flex my biceps. “Well—”

“When can we get together to celebrate?”

Still reeling about this new development, I toss out, “How about Thursday? I don’t have anything on my schedule since I just got back from Mexico.”

He laughs. “Nice life, King. Weren’t you just in Hawaii a few weeks ago?”

“I was.” A fantastic trip with a new set of friends. My mind goes back to the villa we all stayed at, owned by the family of a guy I met in Cannes two months ago. Sun, exercise, and lots of drinks and sex. What could be better? “But that was so last month, you know?”

I won’t be going anywhere next month, a thought so depressing I flop onto an overstuffed chair to wallow.

“Well, Thursday works for me. I want to take you to someplace special, not our regular spot. I’ll arrange everything and text you, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.” We usually hit up SmashBurger, so I can’t wait to see his “special” choice. I normally pay for our meals, but maybe this once I can let him?Crap. I hate this. “I look forward to it. I can’t wait to share everything I know about New York City with you. And, hey, you’re going to own that school.”

I disconnect the line and text Trevor—again—telling him that I want the last loan I gave him repaid pronto. Heading into my kitchen, I make a protein shake and then head down to the beach for my morning exercise, despite the fact that it’s after noon. I need to get out and clear my head.

After my workout, I run back to the condo, sweaty from pushing my body hard, and take a long shower. I spend a few minutes shaving my stubble to get the perfect three-day-old look, then work some product into my hair and examine my nails. It’s been five days—time for a manicure. How much does that cost? Well, maybe it can wait a couple of days…

I toss on a pair of Prada grey sweats and, sans shirt, head to my kitchen. Since my fridge contains beer and ketchup, I have no choice but to order lunch like usual. When the delivery guys shows up half an hour later, I go to pull a twenty out to give him as a tip, but—feeling like an ass—give him a five-dollar bill instead. Desperate times and all that.

As I eat my chicken, I review my options, none of which are appealing. How am I going to survive without my trust fund and sponsorships? My PR needs to change, like yesterday. This sucks in a real bad way. And it’s all because of some blow.

My mind bounces from coke pusher Trevor to Blaine, our other childhood buddy. Who’s producing a new TV show about real estate and asked both of us to screen test. At the time, I scoffed at the idea, but hell. Maybe I should?

After all, I’ve gained the reputation of being a “house matchmaker” over the years. Whenever someone I know is looking to sell or move, they always whisper in my ear to see if I know of anyone who might be a good match. And I’ve enjoyed hooking people up.

Blaine’s TV gig has to be better than getting a “real” job.

Putting my dishes into the sink, I pull up Blaine’s number and make idle chitchat about his wife, Jewel—also a childhood friend—and their kids. When we finish shooting the shit, I get around to the point of my call. “So, have you made any final decisions about your new show? The one about real estate?”

“Not yet. Trevor was in here today. He looked good.”

At Trevor’s name, my resolve strengthens. No way am I going to let him get this gig. “I was wondering—” I let my last statement hang out there, waiting for him to take the bait. Which he does.

“Wondering what?”

I scrunch up my face, knowing he can’t see me. “I was thinking that I might be interested in trying out for your show after all. That is, since you’re still looking.”

“Buddy, that would be great,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “I’d love to have you come in for a screen test, but it has to be tomorrow. We’re about to make our decision as to who goes on to the next round.”

“Perfect.” My nails catch my eye, and I decide to make an appointment with my manicurist today after all. “What time should I be there?”

“Come by around ten. And King, I think you’re perfect for this role. We’ll be filming out in the Hamptons. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

We hang up and I collapse back onto the couch. I can do the Hamptons. Been there, done many of the ladies. I smirk. If I have to get a job, this sounds like it’ll be right up my alley. Not to mention I can pull the rug out from under Trevor, the asshole who ripped away my trust fund.

Angie

I UNFOLD THEten-year-old sheet of notebook paper and smooth it out on my desk. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I reread the list for the millionth time, although I keep the very bottom folded like I always do.

Graduate college, preferably Columbia.Check.

Pass the New York State real estate exam.Check.

Learn the ropes from Aunt Teresa.Check.

I smile. Dante’s aunt helped my family find our dream house in Brooklyn when I was thirteen. Most adults don’t waste their time talking to kids, but she could tell I was interested in real estate and made a point of telling me about the various properties she was showing us. She was the reason I fell in love with real estate in the first place. Some people think it’s just about making a living, but real estate is more than that—it’s about helping people secure their future happiness.

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