Selling it All Read online

Selling it all

  Copyright 2013 Josie Daleiden

  Sarah reached down into the warm oven and pulled out the tray of cookies. She balanced on her heels as she bumped the over shut with her hip. This was the oldest realtor trick in the book, but you still had to do it. Prospective buyers had come to expect it by now. Fresh-baked cookies. The little gooey blobs steamed and bubbled as they cooled on top of the stove. She looked around the spacious, empty kitchen and straightened her outfit once more. She felt constrained by the tight little blazer as it hugged her shoulders, but she loved how it accentuated her waistline... and her girls.

  “Hi! My name is Sarah. Sarah Bella. Yes, it sounds like a fairy tale name. My parents were into Dungeons and Dragons... ugh, like they'll know what that even is! Get is together girl!” She chastised herself in the opulent, yet empty house.

  Sarah had only been working at Nelson Realty for about one year. In that time, she had managed to rise to the top of the ladder at the prestigious, yet small, real estate firm. As one of their top- selling realtors, she had been graciously selected to lead the effort to sell the newly built Mcmansions at the Verde Grande Estates. This upscale housing tract had all the amenities that any upper class suburbanite could want. Besides the stunning Mediterranean style houses, there was a rolling manicured golf course, weight room, and main meeting hall. Sarah chuckled to herself at the thought of the restless housewives that would populate this tract home realm. How they would all stage elaborate little coup attempts against one another. The shifting allegiances, and the friendships shattered by trysts with one another's husbands-

  A quiet knock at the open door shook Sarah out of her day dream of lonely housewives.

  “Hey there my Bella! How are things here at the Verde?” Asked her boss, Aaron Nelson, owner of Nelson Realty.

  He was a friendly, approachable man in his late sixties who dressed in suits that looked like they were hand tailored in 1955, and then sent to him via time machine. His retro, impeccable style took a backseat to his savvy business sense. Instead of acting like every other realtor in this shark-infested business, he chose to portray an open, honest personality that worked wonders on his clients. He was able to close sales like no one else due to his disarming charm and grace. He was a single widower, but he never really indicated whether or not he dated at all. Sarah couldn’t imagine such a wonderful guy going through life all on his own, but it wasn't something she could ever bring up to him.

  “Hi Mr. Nelson. I'm just getting ready for the early birds. I made a run through the house and touched up all the counters like you said.” Sarah chirped happily. She hated brown nosed suck ups, but she felt a bizarre need to cater to the kindly Mr. Nelson in any way possible.

  “Atta girl Bella!” Did I ever tell you the time I lost a sale because of one dirty counter top? It was a real hard lesson to learn...” He preached in his fatherly way.

  Sarah had heard the story no less than ten times. This was the reason she had gone through and tested each counter with a white glove before he came. She knew he would be dropping by for a surprise visit, and she wanted to impress him. She smiled to herself as she thought back to the white cotton gloves, and how they made her look like a character from an old black and white movie.

  “I think you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She said with a smile.

  Just as Mr. Nelson was making his goodbyes, a young Indian couple arrived at the door and timidly looked inside. Sarah read the couple as they walked inside the grand entry way to the house. She waited to see who would be the decision maker. It was a trick Mr. Nelson had taught her, “as you never know who really wears the pants in the family....,”

  After introductions, Sarah was able to suss out that the newlywed Mrs. Padma was the pants wearer, and proceeded to work her from then on out. After they left another handsome, young couple came to the door, and behind them more were slowly ambling in to sample cookies and other little snacks left out by her.

  The warm Saturday afternoon slid by, and by sunset she had already received offers from two families. She knew that Monday morning would bring at least one more offer, and a brisk bidding war would ensue. As the thought of climbing commissions danced in her head, she packed up her laptop and her other assorted tools of the trade. The amber light that came in from the nearby coastline glinted off the reflective granite counters of the large kitchen as she hefted her attaché case onto her shoulder.

  On her way to the door, she heard the growling engine of an exotic sports car as it slid to a stop in front of the house. With one last snarl the engine died out, and she could hear the door open. “Only one door...,” She thought to herself.

  As she reached the doorway, she was expecting a young bachelor with his parent's money. A man looking to buy a house to settle down in, and fill with a trophy wife and uber-Aryan babies. She was greeted with the one thing she should have expected, but still was caught off guard.

  A male figure sauntered up to the doorway right as Sarah was struggling with the lock box on the door. She looked up, and her big blue eyes got even bigger as they finally processed who it was she was looking at.

  She gasped in spite of herself, as the man took off his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. In one smooth motion, the man slid her heavy bag off her shoulder and held the lock box so she could slide the house key back into it. She was close enough to smell him. His scent held a note of Old Spice aftershave, with a little bit of whatever body spray he was wearing. The cocktail seemed to really work for him, as he smiled down at her with polite dominance.

  “You must be Miss Bella.” He finally said. His voice was deep and resonant, and his tone hinted at easy going superiority. This was the legendary Joseph Blake. His image was peppered all over park benches and regional publications in Rancho Palos Verdes, California. In this odd world of cut throat LA area real estate, he was at the top of the food chain. The true alpha dog supremo that reigned over everyone else. Not only in sales, but in reputation as well. He was maybe ten years older than her, but he maintained himself so well it was hard to place his age. His rugged good looks could have put him in the movies if he actually cared what other people thought of him.

  She knew that he had a weird way of selling houses, but it always worked. He would sometimes demean clients into thinking they could only afford some little shack in the slums, and then sit back and smile as the unsuspecting rube would insist on seeing his most expensive property. It was reckless and irresponsible, and his actions had led to more than a few short lived buys that ended in foreclosure or divorce. He didn't care. As long as the client was pre-approved, he would make sure to get them exactly what they wanted.

  With her right hand now free, she instinctively jutted it out his way for a handshake. He smiled down at her as he took the proffered hand and shook it with a grip that let her know that he was being deliberately gentle with her. Sarah struggled to find words as this dashing, charismatic man stood there letting the handshake die out into an awkward silence.

  “Your new to this aren't you?” He asked with a cocky little smirk.

  Sarah finished securing the key in the lock box and held out her hand to receive her bag. She was already feeling like a deer in the headlights, and she knew that he knew it too. “I'm not that new. I've been doing this since I got out of college three years ago.” She harrumphed defiantly.

  “That's new in this game sweetie. You're one of Aaron's girls aren't you?” He nodded for her to follow him, as he strolled down the secluded flagstone pathway that led back to the street. He was still holding her bag and with it, any chance for her to exit this conversation on her own terms.

  Sarah tried her best not to follow him. As if that was some small way that she could regain control of this li
ttle exchange. “You make it sound like I'm some kind of property.” She said in a defensive tone.

  As they made it to the street, Joseph instinctively strolled over to her car and waited for her to unlock the rear hatch. Her little Nissan Leaf was the first big purchase of her life. The zippy little electric car was the reason she was able to save so much money on her commute. Every last penny she had went into promoting herself as a high-end realtor, and she loved the image that the little electric car gave off as well. Very clean and modern. As the back hatch silently swished open, Joseph placed her bag carefully inside and shut it. With a polite nod, he strolled over to her driver's side door and opened it for her. It had been ages since any man had done that for her, and she didn't quite know what to make of this gesture.

  Once she swung herself into the driver's seat, Joseph gently closed the door and leaned down close to talk through the open window. “If you'll notice, you only work with other girls about your age, about your height, and with your same hair color. Hell, I bet you all even come from the same....,” there was a pause as he went to the back of her car to read something, “ ah, UCSB! I knew it!” He proclaimed, as he bent down to read her license plate frame.

  Sarah didn't know what to make of this assault on her life. This man, whom she had known for all of one minute, professed to know everything about her, about her life, and about her job. She was getting riled up, and she wasn't even sure why yet. Well, besides the fact that this guy was making her sound like some kind of stable animal.

  Sarah leaned her head out the window to talk back to him. “Is there something I can help you with Mr. Blake?” She asked in an annoyed tone.

  “Everyone who knows me calls me Joe. The 'Joseph' is to filter out the zombies.” He said casually, as he made his back to her window.

  “Uh, zombies?” She asked incredulously.

  “Yep. All of my ad postings have my full, given name. That way, I can tell right at the beginning of a call if it's somebody I know or not.” He fished his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and slid them on with a casual grace that Sarah wished she could have.

  “Do you call all of your prospective clients zombies?” She chided.

  “Not the ones with deep pockets.” He shot back. “Look, I have to run. I just wanted to put names to faces and say,” he stepped back from her car and held out his long arms to the sky, “Welcome to the neighborhood!”

  As he pivoted on his heel to walk to his car, Sarah rolled her eyes and went to push the start button. A little window popped up on her dash display. Her heart sank as she realized that she had forgot to charge the car. She was going to , but she was panning the open house and got sidetracked. She pulled out her phone to see if there was a charge station nearby. She could maybe have Jessica come and give her a ride home...

  Joe's car sparked to life behind her, and she now envied gas- powered cars more than ever. He eased the black Porsche 911 slowly up and yelled through the passenger window to her.

  “Car trouble?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, just a drained battery. You go on, I have a friend coming to pick me up.”

  “Tell her not to. I have a guy who can get you car charged while we go have dinner.” He said casually.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Blake?” His forward move had caught her off guard.

  “Unless you want to sit in your car and wait for your friend. Its your choice.” He said. “And I told you, my name is Joe.”

  She weighed her options. Jessica was most likely out on a date, and she would make her wait until late in the evening to come pick her up. Then, there was still the issue of getting the car charged..., “Fine, so you really have a guy that charges EV cars?”

  “He's actually my assistant, Ernesto. There's nothing he can't do. Come on, I've already put the call through.” He swung open the passenger door, and beckoned her to get in.

  Sarah felt a split second of apprehension, but given the circumstances, she didn't really have another choice. As she reached over to grab her handbag, she placed a quick text to Jessica to tell her who she was going with. Just in case.

  “Not to be rude, but I have a reservation that I don't want to miss.” He said in a suggesting tone.

  “What do I do with my car?” She asked as she slid out of the seat.

  “Just leave the key fob on the seat. Ernesto will take care of it for you. Now come on!” He said with jovial insistence.

  Sarah left her key fob on the seat, and took her laptop bag out of the back. She slid into the passenger seat of the Porsche with her bag on her lap. Joe reached over her and gently shut the door as she reached back to place the bag behind her. She still felt out of place in this man's sports car, but she needed a ride. She still hated being in debt in any way to such a misogynistic jerk though-

  Before she could finish her thought the little black sports car rocketed away from a standstill. In mere seconds, they had already accelerated to over sixty miles an hour, and Joe was banging through gears like he was racing for his life. As Sarah reached out in all directions for something to hold onto, her hand grasped his right arm though the fabric of his Pierre Cardin blazer. She couldn't help but notice his strong, toned muscles under the coat, and she blushed a little as he looked over and smiled quizzically.

  “Uh, Sarah?”

  “Yes?” She said quietly.

  “I need that arm to shift.”

  She quickly released his arm, and he shifted the screaming car into another gear. They sped out of the gated security entrance and onto the nearby highway.

  Sarah had never driven this fast in her life. She dated a guy in high school who would street race occasionally, but this was on a whole different level. Every car on the highway was simply a slow moving obstacle, as Joe darted in and out of traffic like he was off to stop a crime. She dared not look at the speedometer.

  “Do you always drive like this?” She finally managed to say over the din of the screaming engine.

  “No. Usually faster. Since there's a lady in the car, I'm taking it easy tonight.” He said as he flashed her a quick smile. Sarah tried to figure out if her was joking or serious, but before she could form a thought, he was jetting towards an off ramp and driving into little Tokyo.

  In the smoggy dusk of the Los Angeles evening, The cool air came through as Joe rolled down the windows. The LA Civic Center slid by, a looming metropolitan obelisk peppered with the occasionally lighted window towered over them, visible in its entirety only through the open sunroof. Even though she had been to downtown LA numerous times, this felt different. Her trips felt like that of a tourist wandering around an unfamiliar place. This man seemed to have a grasp on this wild city as if it was his, and his alone. The cars, delivery trucks, and pedestrians were only a scenic backdrop to his life, as he deftly wove around everything to get to this special restaurant.

  As the car swung onto East 2nd street, she saw street art painted all over the municipal walls in the area. One last turn took them down a narrow alleyway that had cars jutting out from angled parking spaces. As he negotiated around one last gathering of pedestrians, he whipped into an empty spot, just as a large Hummer was attempting to amble into it. The bloated SUV bleated like a jilted cow, as the owner slammed his hand on the horn.

  Joe smiled and watched while the man in the Hummer jammed his large vehicle into reverse and sped off. The restaurant bared a sign that said, “R23”, and had no other indication of what was inside. Since they were in little Tokyo, she was fearing sushi. She despised the little fishy creations made with strips of sticky seaweed, and she was hoping that there was something else to eat here besides the fish stuff.

  “So, what’s here that's worth driving like a maniac for?” She teased lightly.

  “Sweet cheeks; if you don't have a reason to drive like a maniac towards something, then you should re-evaluate why you're driving there in the first place.” He responded coolly.

  For such an upscale guy, this place seemed pretty low rent on the outsi
de. The crumbling brick exterior held old posters and lost pet signs, but the inside was pure surprise.

  The restaurant was a true diamond in the rough. A plaque in the entryway bared a Zagat rating, and there was an actual art gallery tucked inside off to the right. The striking Japanese decor confirmed her fears of sushi, and in spite of the surroundings she had to speak up.

  “I, um, I don't like sushi.” Sarah said meekly.

  Joe looked over to her with a smirk. “You live in LA, and you don't eat sushi? I'm surprised they haven't done a news piece on you yet.”

  “Oh very funny.” She shot back.

  He gestured for her to sit down in front of one of the trained chefs, as they expertly sliced fish and rolled delicate little rolls of fish and rice. The chef looked up and brightened at seeing Joe. After exchanging pleasantries, Joe said, “We'll have two of your specialty dishes.”

  “I told you I don't like sushi.” Sarah insisted once more.

  The master chef reached behind him and began pulling out two portions of ground beef. She could see him chopping up potatoes into thin slices, the beginnings of french fries?

  Joe answered her confused internal dialogue for her. “I don't like sushi either. This guy makes the best Kobe beef hamburgers. You won't believe it!” He said with a smile, as the hipsters seated by the chef curled their lips derisively at the sight of the mundane ground beef by their top shelf sashimi.

  As their burgers cooked, they toured the art gallery, and Joe pointed out a photo set from a new artist.

  “She has a great eye for capturing beauty anywhere. This is actually a whole photo set from an abandoned military base not far from here. She took all these right before the crew demolished it. I was there when the cops hauled her off in handcuffs.” He said with a reminiscent tone. “I had to bail her out.”

  She looked at the pictures. There was a self-portrait of the photographer. She was a striking raven-haired girl with tattoos all down her right arm. She had a bandanna wrapped around her head to keep her hair in place, and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a white top. If not for the black and white photography, she would probably have flawless tan skin as well. Sarah couldn't help but hate her a little.

  “You two dated, didn't you?” She said out of the blue. She wasn't sure why it came out as accusing as it did, or why it even came out at all.

  Without missing a beat, Joe said, “I wouldn't call it dating. She's engaged to a guy back in New York City. We just fooled around while she was down here.”

  “So you two cheated while her husband was across the country?” Again, she couldn't control the accusing nature of her voice.

  “Technically, she was the one who was cheating. I was single at the time, and we met while she was looking for a place for her dad to live.”

  His explanation was interrupted by a waitress, as she brought two drinks over. He took one of the beer bottles and handed it to her. As he took a long drink, Sarah watched him while he observed the large, blown up photos of rusting tanks and close-ups of crumbling buildings.

  “You liked her, didn't you?” Sarah said after a long stretch of silence. Why did she keep doing this?

  After a time, Joe nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I did. I even tried to get her to leave that tool bag, art school dropout that she was with, but to no avail. She finished up here and left me, and I got stuck on the hook for her five thousand dollar bail for trespassing on federal property.” He finished his beer and set it on a nearby tray. “We should get back. It smells like our burgers are almost ready.”

  He was right. The smell of the premium beef being cooked to perfection was filling the restaurant with a fragrance that was making her stomach growl. He reached down and took her hand in his. This easy gesture caught her of guard, and she realized that he may not have meant it either. He persisted however, and continued to pull her over to the table with a gentle tug. Sarah trailed behind him with a little color to her cheeks, as he pulled her chair out and gestured for her to sit. This man was starting to seem like the opposite of what she had read and heard about. That is, until they sat down for dinner.

  “So, how was your first open house at Verde Grande?” He asked casually.

  Sarah gave him a puzzled look over the top of her hamburger. “How did you know it was my first open house?”

  “I have my ways.” He answered in between bites. “Good call on showing cleavage for the Padmas. I hear that Mr. Padma is quite whipped. You probably stirred his wife to make an offer out of pure spite.” He said with a chuckle, as he nodded down at her slightly unbuttoned top.

  Sarah flashed him an indignant look, but it had no effect on him. She wasn't sure what was worse; that he was brash enough to make a claim like that, or that it was mostly true.

  “Don't take offense, it's good to use all your assets. I could only wish for big, bouncy fun bags to manipulate my clients with.” Joe said. He was looking right in her eyes the whole time, not wavering or flinching as he said things that would have made her slap any other guy. Instead of winding up for a punch, she could only wade around inside his dark green eyes while the restaurant bustled around them.

  “Since you and I are such go getter types, hows about we make the next month over at Verde Grande a little more interesting?” Joe offered in a friendly tone.

  Sarah was intrigued by this offer of a wager. She loved good-natured competition, and this was a chance to go toe to toe with the best in town.

  “Did you have anything in particular in mind?” She asked as she finished off her second beer.

  “Not off the top of my head. How about..., if you sell the most houses, I give you my Gold Coast Realtor's Award? I usually win every year. But if you outsell me, I'll relinquish it to you at the acceptance ceremony.”

  She mulled over that thought. That award was to realtors what the Oscars are to actors. The thought of besting Mr. Blake in a bid to win that was certainly worth it.

  “What about of I lose?” What do I have to give you?” She asked. She had nowhere near the money or clout that he did, so she was at a blank for what to put on the table for her part of the wager.

  Joe munched deliberately on a gourmet French fry and considered the question. “If you lose, I mean, when you lose, you come to work for me, for no less than three years.” His emerald eyes twinkled with boyish mischief as he formed the words, and Sarah knew that working for him for three years would be like getting trapped in a typing pool in the 1950's.

  “What if I just decide to welch on the bet and not work for you?” she teased with a smile.

  “Oh sweetie, that's not an option. Once you agree, I'll have my lawyer draw up a very lengthy and detailed contract. If you try to bail on it, not only will you trash your name everywhere in So Cal, but you'll owe me a ton of money.” He finished his little spiel with a teasing wink that only served to enrage her even more.

  “How are you so sure I'll agree to this?” She asked incredulously.

  “Honey, I know you better than you know yourself.” He stuck out his hand across the table, and waited patiently as Sarah tried to make him sweat. Finally, she took his hand and gave it one firm shake.

  “I hope you know what you're getting into.” She said with pure confidence. The wager had her blood rushing, and her familiar winning spirit had taken over.

  “It will be great having you under my employ Miss Bella. The best part will be telling your old coot of a boss that I stole one of his girls!” He teased.

  Sarah felt her cheeks reddening in anger. How dare he make this so personal!

  “You have one month to best me Mr. Blake. I suggest you work on your game, and not your shit talking.” She chimed in an even voice.

  Joe appraised this girl before him. He loved the game! This little attempt by this cheerful upstart to usurp his stance as the leader of the LA real estate market was just what he needed to get him out of his bored state of mind.

  “One last thing, Miss Bella; I don't play fair, and I don't follo
w rules. You're in one of the most culturally mixed cities in the entire world, and I know everyone important in it. You just moved here from Scranton Pa., and you're little BBA degree from UCSB isn’t going to save you from the storm that just befell you.” He said.

  Sarah was hanging on his every word. Even though he was tearing her down, she loved the confident rumble that his voice held. She could smell his mix of aftershave and body spray again. Only this time, it was warmed beneath like a potpourri dish as his competitive nature stirred like embers crackling in a fireplace. Every word brought him closer to her over the small table, until he was perched right over her in proud silence. A quick look over her shoulder made her turn around just in time to see a tall Latino man about the same age as Joe standing silently behind her.

  “Ernesto, this is the lovely woman with the wind up car.” He joked, as he stood to pay the bill.

  Sarah moved to block his grab for the check. “We'll split it.” She chimed confidently.

  “Really? Okay...” Joe said, as he let go of the check.

  Sarah felt her heart flop over as she saw the bill for two burgers and some beer: 406.25!

  “Are you fucking kidding me!?” She breathed to herself as she took out her pocketbook with a shaky hand. Joe blocked her move, as he handed his Amex gold card to the waiter.

  “This was my treat Sarah. Just think, when you start working for me, all of these meals will be business expenses.” He said through a warm smile.

  Just then it sank in. There was no way to win against him, and he knew it! As he stood there straightening his suit coat, he wasn't the least bit threatened by her. She was just another chick to him. Although, she was now stuck probably being his new personal assistant by the time the month was out.