Page 2 of Mister Curb Appeal
I hate having to extend the truth, but on this occasion it’s necessary. I’m not seeing anyone right now, but she doesn’t need to know that. If it were Brad having this conversation, he would’ve told her Janie is a spoiled, stuck-up bitch who needs tolearn some manners. He really doesn’t care about his reputation. But not all heroes wear capes, so I keep a smile plastered on my face.
“Well, it’s new, and she’s very private, as am I, so I’d rather not go into details if it’s all the same with you.” We’re here to sign contracts, not discuss my love life. “So without further ado, I just need a couple of signatures?—”
“Such a gentleman.” Her hand is still notably lingering on my forearm.Uh, what the fuck?“You should come out to the Palisades sometime. It really is charming this time of year.”
Is Mrs. Milton hitting on me?Even when I just told her I had a girlfriend? For fuck’s sake.
I clear my throat. “I don’t get over to the Westside very much these days, I’m too busy. But the house is spectacular. I’m sure you’ll be very happy there. It really is idyllic.”
Fucking idyllic.Who even am I?
It cost five million dollars for a four-bedroom, four-bathroom, 1948 build, fully renovated home with views of the canyon. Not bad for a fourth ‘holiday home.’
“I love getting all of that city grit out of my hair,” she goes on as I slide the pen into her hand, hoping to guide her back to what we’re here to do. “It’ll be like a home away from home. Somewhere to call my own.”
I think she’s forgotten she’s married and has several otherhomes away from home. I may not like Jerry, but this woman is something else.
“Indeed.” I hold my breath as her hand hovers, my eyes unable to look away.
“But if you’re ever in the vicinity, I’ll be there most weekends.” She beams.
For the love of God, please fucking sign the fucking contracts.
“I will be sure to do that, Veronica.” I give her a dazzling smile, taking megawatt to a whole new level.
To see her hand moving across the paper is a sweet relief. She finally signs, and I feel my shoulders sag a touch as the pen dances across the dotted line, her scrawl an elaborate show of dips and loops.
When she’s finished, she cracks her knuckles like she’s done a hard day's work. Finding this place has been hell. We’ve looked at over thirty properties but she was never satisfied with any of them. After a while, you get the feeling that some clients may just be wasting your time, but Veronica has bought and sold with me for years. I knew we’d find something eventually. She’s just hard work.
On cue, Mason — my dad’s PA, and the voice of all wisdom for the Property Brothers — knocks on the door. “Congratulations, Mrs. Milton.” He joists with the large gift basket in his arms, brimming at the seams with high-end goodies. Could he be any more flamboyant? He lives for this kind of stuff. “I put this together myself. I know how much you enjoy Pinot Grigio.”
Veronica’s face lights up and she finally releases her hand from my arm. “Oh, Mason, you shouldn’t have!”
He dangles the keys in the air as he hands her the massive basket. “Party at your place!”
That’s all we fucking need. An invite I can’t get out of.
“I’ll leave you with Mason,” I say, standing and straightening out my suit, brushing off some imaginary lint. “Congratulations, Veronica. It’s a really beautiful property.”
She can’t resist one last hug, stretching her arms around my frame. “Thank you again, Joshua. It took a while, but we got there in the end, didn’t we?”
It took a while because she found fault with every single house I showed her, drawing the transaction out for months.Still, I can’t complain. The commission wasn’t anything to sniff about. And most importantly, my client is happy. She may be grabby, and want me for a son-in-law, or her next husband, but I treat all my clients with the same respect. Even if I want to staple things to their heads.
“We did, and you have impeccable taste.” I release myself from her grip, happy I can soon escape her clutches. “Enjoy the champagne. Just make sure Mason doesn’t have too many. He’s a sloppy drunk.”
She laughs like I’m a comedian.
I ignore Mason’s ‘you’re welcome’ smirk as I leave and head back to my office.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I walk. Relief that this is over, until the next property hunt, washes through me. If I was ever inclined to day drink, today would be the day.
As soon as I sit down, I see a sticky note stuck to my computer.
Mason.
He insists on using damn sticky notes for everything instead of the calendar he so carefully prepared and emails me, Dad, and my brothers daily.
I squint, sliding the reading glasses from out of my top jacket pocket. I slip them on and then I grin even wider as I pull the sticky-note off my screen.
