“It’s not all men”, Mom would say.
But it was.
Romeo was where I had left him on the couch, his right leg bouncing as he braced his elbows on his knees and hung his head. I gently cleared my throat, and he glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows with anticipation while his leg stopped.
“They were packing up outside. But they might be back soon, so you have a small window to—”
He stood and strode from the couch, breezing past me as he aimed for the front door. The proximity was brief but there, cloaking me in a thin veil of his scent again. Tobacco was present, but so was the smell of leather, sandalwood, and something vaguely sweet.
Vanilla— Stop that!
I blinked and followed him. “Wait—”
He stopped at the door, fingers reaching for the handle as he looked back.
“Just…be mindful of the neighbors. And maybe take the stairs. Not many people use them.”
Why am I still helping him?
The subtle squint of his eyes and confused frown told me he was wondering the same thing.
After a beat, he nodded once and pulled the door open, checking the hallway as he did earlier. Except this time, when he hesitated, it wasn’t in frustration. He turned his body halfway, acknowledging me again.
“Thanks,” he said curtly. Then he was gone, slipping through the door as he closed it behind himself.
Chapter 6
Lily
The Whitmore real estate agency catered to the upper working class. From holiday rentals in nearby suburbs to luxury mansions and penthouses around the Bay Ridge area. Kate Whitmore, my mother, was considered one of Bay Ridge’s best real estate agents, and her business had been passed down through generations on her side of our family. All realtors, salespeople, and business owners. Which was why Jane and I were expected to take over one day. To keep it in the family and live up to Mom’s award-winning agenting. There was also no chance in hell either of us would enter a career in law enforcement like our Dad and the rest of his family. Dad had warned us not to, saying it was no place for the faint of heart. It was a little disheartening when he looked at me while saying that last part. I wasn’t faint of heart. I just felt things a little more intensely sometimes and cried while watching holiday commercials.
I sat behind the large, L-shaped front desk in the real estate agency’s foyer. Absent-mindedly sketching a rose on the back of a Code of Conduct printout while holding the phone to my ear. The one on the other end of the line rang out for the third time before I gave up.
The client's rent was overdue. One more warning from us meant an eviction notice. The thought of doing that to someone made my stomach hurt. The majority of our tenants and homeowners were successful people. But we had several who were working two jobs just to stay afloat.
I sent them an email instead. A last-ditch effort to show them some compassion before one of our heavy-handed realtors went after them.
The clock on my computer flicked to 9 AM as I hit send and leaned back in my chair. Something about today already felt like it would be long.
Mondays were usually our busiest as people came from the weekend with the inspiration and confidence to move house or buy an investment property. Now that it was summertime, that mentality seemed to double with eagerness. Almost on cue, the phone rang, and I jumped, kicking my shin against the cabinet under the desk.
Candice, the other admin assistant, sent me a deadpan stare from over the rim of her red half-moon glasses. Her mouth pinched into an unimpressed line that caused the wrinkles on her chin to deepen. She turned back to her computer screen, pushing her glasses back up her short nose but squinting regardless of how they aided her vision. Her thick, black hair was sprinkled with grays and trimmed into a chin-length, thick bob, and she always wore an abstract, bulky necklace. Today was a blend of pink and red beads the size of Lego blocks.
She was our oldest employee and always maintained she could run the front desk alone. But she tolerated me because I was the boss’s daughter.
I composed myself before answering the phone, parroting my best customer service voice. "Good morning, you're speaking with Lily. How can I help you today?"
11 AM was the office's break time. I wandered down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the building, collecting the orders of the other realtors as I passed their offices. They liked to remind me how they liked their coffees, assuming I would make them since I was heading that way. I only had myself to blame for being in this position.
The kitchen was a small, windowless room with all the usual necessities of a kitchen, except for a stove and oven. The room was bleak in color, based on a palette of grays and whites, modern appliances, and wooden cabinetry. It also always smelled of burned waffles.
I stepped up to the corner where the coffee machine was, lining up several cups and repeating the usual order over in my head as I gathered what I needed. This was a routine that happened twice a day. A simple task, but it didn’t stop the nausea rolling in my stomach from being alone in here. The sound of scuffed footsteps against the hallway carpet had grown too familiar. Unwelcome but familiar. Every time I heard it, my ears pricked, and my skin crawled as I froze.
James Henderson was the other reason I wanted to leave this job.
There were only so many places I could go in this building before he tracked me down again. Sometimes I succeeded in avoiding him, or I was lucky to find someone else in the kitchen to chat with. On other days, like today, not so much.
He was a stout man of average height with rounded shoulders, a beer belly, a balding head, and beady brown eyes. Often sweating and breathing loudly through his nose as if he had run a marathon.
