Chapter 5
The last week was filled with more planning than a mass wedding. She pulled out all the stops, and tried to figure every angle of attack Joe might use. On top of that, she also had to nail down her own open house, and make sure it was the best one of her career. While she sat at her desk in the Nelson Realty office, her boss came over and sat down across from her.
“Hi Mr. Nelson.” She beamed with genuine happiness. She always loved talking with him, but it had become a little weird as of late, given that she was seeing him at the strip club more than at work. They still talked shop at the club, as they drank from his stash of top shelf scotch that he kept under lock and key for just himself.
They had become old souls. True friends that didn't hide things from one another.
“Bella, I'm starting to worry about how this little wager is affecting you.” He admitted in a fatherly tone. “It's been great seeing you here at the office again, but part of me is starting to worry that you're changing for good. Even your friend Jessica is getting worried. You will tell us if there’s something wrong won't you?”
Sarah waved her hand dismissively. “I'm glad you're all so concerned for me, but I've got this. Even though I might lose everything, and be forced to be Joe's little slave girl for a while, it's been the best thing to happen to me. Its uncovered things in me I didn't know I had. If I win this, I'm the best realtor in the whole basin. Period. It's given me a sort of clarity that I've never had before. I promise I'll tell you if I start slipping over to the dark side.” She finished with a little laugh.
Mr. Nelson got up and smoothed out his vintage suit coat. “ Come with me little one, I have something you need to see.”
Sarah followed him to his office. The wood paneled room reeked of old whiskey and newsprint, but it held a sort of warmth that she found comforting whenever she was in there.
Mr. Nelson wrestled a stack of photos from under a pile of old real estate listings. As the vintage ads spilled to the floor of his office, he stepped over the mess and plopped down at his desk. He then motioned for Sarah to come closer. She watched his eyes glaze over with nostalgia as he began explaining the pictures.
“ I bought this trailer park back in the late sixties, but I could never bear to sell it and make all those people homeless. This is the trailer park where Joe's mom used to live. He was much younger in this picture, about eight or nine I would say.” Sarah took the proffered picture and looked at the little boy with bright green eyes. He was shirtless, and seemed to be wearing the bottoms to a Superman pajama set. His hair was a bushy shaggy mess, and he had the biggest smile on his face. He seemed to be standing in front of a large travel trailer, and was holding a big wart-cover toad.
“It's funny how you don't know what poverty is as a child. His single mother was on welfare, and he almost never had clothes on. I would buy him some, but he just kept giving them away to other kids in the park who needed them more. I had to admire him for being so generous.” He said, as he flipped over to another picture.
“This was right after the Los Gatos fire. The little trailer park was deemed 'unworthy' of CDF protection, because they had a bunch of million dollar homes to protect up in the hills. As the park burned to the ground, Joe ran around trying to save everybody that he could. He ended up getting stuck in an old Airstream trailer while the fire burned around him. Since he was never wearing shoes, he suffered severe burns to the soles of his feet. Once the firefighters finally got to him, he was almost dead from smoke inhalation. It’s still something that bothers him from time to time. When he moved in with my wife and I, he had nightmares for a year.” He brought up another picture. “Here Joe is as an adult. He just finished college, and he was being recognized for his fund raising work for the volunteer fire department. It was right after my wife passed, but I'm sure she was proud of him from wherever she is.” Mr. Nelson said with a slight quaver in his voice.
Sarah felt all of this information hitting her like an avalanche. “Why are you showing me this?” She asked, as a tear slid down her cheek.
“Because Joe is my son. My wife and I adopted him after his mom died in that fire. We took him in, and tried to do our best to keep him just as he was; as that happy, generous little boy who never saw any fault in anybody.”
Sarah just stood there in silence as she considered all the things she had done to this great guy.
“Why are you showing me this now? We've been battling like cats and dogs for the last three weeks. How can I compete against someone like this? I just thought he was another shallow, vapid guy in a suit who likes material things.” She heaved a shuddering sigh, as Mr. Nelson patted her on the leg.
“Because, you deserve to know the truth.” Mr. Nelson said with elderly vigor. He tried to keep this out of the public view, but when you're a local hero, things just keep piling up.”
It was all Sarah could do to keep from falling to the floor. “So, where do I fit in all of this?” She finally asked. Mr. Nelson shrugged and smiled his genuine smile.
“You're going to just keep doing what you're doing, and put that little brat in his place. I still love him, he's my son and I know the good that lies within him. I also know that he's mad with power, and he needs to be taken down a notch or two.” Mr. Nelson tossed the faded pictures back on top of the filing cabinet. “Now how about we go drain that scotch bottle at the club a little?”
Joe sat at his desk while Ernesto looked on from his. The little office in Westwood almost never got any use, but he felt the need to gather with his right hand man to go over strategies.
“What about a gas of some kind; like nitrous oxide? Ju know, to knock everyone out?” Ernesto offered with excitement.
“Whats with you and the roofies?” Do I have to stage an intervention or something?” Joe asked with weary indifference.
“Well, I don't see ju coming up with any gems.” Ernesto shot back with a scowl.
“Right. Whatever it will be...” Joe paused to press his steepled fingers against his chin, “it'll have to be big!”
While they both sat in silence, the clock ticked incessantly on the wall.
Joe sat up in his chair. “I've got it! Does your brother still have that big dump truck?”
Sarah was back at her desk later that night. In the darkened little office, she placed her things in a file box. She was not one to lose easily, but she didn't want to do the walk of shame during daylight hours. She didn't know how to process the information that Mr. Nelson had dropped in her lap. Even if she knew how to sabotage his last sale, she didn't want to. Every time she thought back to that little green-eyed boy, she got teary eyes. The sweet man that she had seen over dinner at his place was not an act, but it was the real Joe. When he wasn’t trying to be a competitive jackass, he was a great guy. She was sure that working for him wouldn't be too bad either.
Sarah hefted the large box onto her hip as she struggled with the front door. While the alarm system counted down, she shuffled outside to her waiting car. She dropped all of her things when a tall figure jumped out of the bushes.
After suppressing a scream, she saw that it was Roxy. “Oh my God! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” She asked, while she picked up her spilled box of office stuff.
Roxy hiked her white mini dress up and knelt over to help. “I saw you and Mr. Nelson at the club. Did he tell you that bullshit story about Joe?” She said with anger in her voice.
“What do you mean bullshit story?” Sarah asked slowly.
“Oh, that whole thing about the trailer park, and the fire. That whole load of crap. He's been doing that for years. Joseph Blake comes from old money back East. His actual, living parents got tired of his boozing and womanizing, so they shipped him out here to finish school. He's just a trust fund brat that never grew up. He had Mr. Nelson do this little song and dance to even things up. He's scared of you, so he's playing dirty. More than usual.”
Sarah sat there stooped over the cold cement. She felt blood po
unding in her veins as her anger broke free from its reins and issued forth.
“Arhghrhh!” Sarah took the little ceramic Mickey Mouse figure that used to reside on her desk, and chucked it as hard as she could. As little ceramic Mickey vaporized into a thousand little shards against a nearby wall, she balled her fists up and gritted her teeth in an attempt to control herself.
“Cool off, girl. Look, you guys have one last sale right?” Roxy said, while she stood back up and pulled her little dress back over her legs.
“Yeah. I didn't have anything planned though. I was just hoping to get through my open house unscathed.” She moped.
“Well, I heard through the grapevine that he's hosting some kind of church barbeque to win over the last clients. It's some shindig that will be full of right wing goodie two shoes types. If it goes well, the good minister from the Evangelical Action Bible Church will make an offer right on the spot.”
Sarah stood there processing what she was just told. “Isn't that the ultra conservative Christian church that always protests gay funerals?”
Roxy smiled and nodded. “Yep, that's the one. It's nothing but a bunch of sexually frustrated white bread suburbanites, and you get to sabotage their party.” Roxy ran her fingers through her straight red hair, as she giggled to herself.
“I'm guessing that you have something in mind already?” Sarah asked with a smile.
“Oh yeah, a big something!”
Sarah stepped out of the shower and wrapped her long hair with a towel. As she stood in her steamy little bathroom, she paused to gather her thoughts about the day. The day. This was the one that made it or failed. While the cold tile floor chilled her, she walked over to her coffee maker. She listened to it while it chortled and gurgled happily in her quiet condo. She poured herself a large mug, and sat down to ponder why Joe had not called her yet. He usually let her know when something was afoot. His giant ego made him a real braggart, and she was fearing that whatever he had planned was going to be real big. So big that even he was scared of the outcome.
She thought back to the last planning session with Jessica and Roxy. Man, she never knew those two cold be so sadistic and weird! She was even doubting her own plans, as a text buzzed in:
Good luck Miss Bella! It'll be fun having you as my underling ;)
Sarah felt a twinge of relief at the sight of Joe's text. She finally was coming to grips with the fact that she had a bizarre sort of crush on him that was anything but healthy. Part of her wanted to throw the towel in, just so she could be around him as he ruled the world that she worked in. She knew there was a sort of palpable bond between them. Their competitive little escapades made them two parts of one entity. She didn't know if he would ever acknowledge it, but she knew in her heart that he felt it.
She thumbed out a retort:
I already have a spot cleared off on my mantle for your trophy Joey boy! = )
She paused to sip her hot coffee while he responded:
Regardless, it's been fun. May the best person (me) win!
She giggled at his arrogant attitude, and strolled off to finish getting ready.
Joe stood on his veranda, as the fog slowly gave way to the relentless California sun. While he sipped his morning java, he looked at his phone to see if she would send one last text. He hoped she would continue the little trash talk session. He turned when heard Ernesto's Cadillac pull into the driveway.
He watched the coastline, as Ernesto walked up behind him on the Veranda.
“Today's the day boss man.” He said in a mocking exaggeration of his real accent.
“I know.” Joe replied simply. He swirled his coffee around in the mug, while a seagull soared around off the cliff face.
“Ernesto, do you know why farming is such a rewarding pursuit?” He queried his assistant.
“No, Why?”
“Because of all that prep work and planning. If you fuck up one step, you lose your entire crop. You can't fake it, and you can't reschedule it or renegotiate. You're just screwed, and you have to tell your family that you're all going to starve before the bank forecloses on your farm. It's absolute. There's no cheating.” Joe's voice had become distant and meditative.
“Okay boss, enough of the silly talk, you've gotta get you're head in the game.” Ernesto said, as he fastened his suit coat against the morning chill.
“You know what Ernesto? I like her. I really like her. She's just the type of driven, competitive girl that's been missing from my life the whole time. I might tell her too, but she'd probably just laugh in my face and walk away. I can't take that again.” He tossed the remainder of his coffee over the railing, and watched as it sprayed out and dissipated in the air. He turned to walk to the house, and limped a little as the cold deck chilled the scarred soles of his bare feet.
“Are your feet hurting again boss?” Ernesto asked with concern.
Joe waved his hand dismissively. “It's no big deal. I should only have one more surgery left. After that, the soles of my feet will be back to normal.” He said with a bitter smile.
That afternoon, Sarah arrived at her open house with a feeling of dread. She tried to cover all the angles, but there was only so much you could do while trying to run your own open house. As she set out her literature, she saw the one family come on that she would never expect. The Nickersons came in through the front door, right as Sarah was setting out little snacks and sandwiches.
“Mr. and Mrs. Nickerson! What a surprise!” She said with genuine astonishment.
“We talked with Arron Nelson, and he told us about the little competition that you have with some other realtor. We both really liked your professionalism in spite of everything, ans we're putting an offer on the house you showed us the other day. Well, that is when they finally finish cleaning the little foam chunks out of it.” Mr Nickerson said with a jovial laugh.
Sarah couldn't believe her luck! She won! All she had to do was get through today intact, and she was home free! She jumped up and down like a giddy teenager and hugged the reserved couple with a death grip. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you! thank you!” She said, as she bounced up and down.
Across the tract, Joe placed more hot dogs and burgers on the grill. He had checked all the door handles, and made sure that the vents were clear. After a thorough sweep, he was sure that there was nothing that Sarah could do to hamper this little event.
He had planned a barbeque to help entice the minister of the most conservative bible church he had ever seen. As the grill sizzled and smoked, the minister, Mr. John Goodwell came over to speak with him.
“Joe, my good man! What a beautiful and glorious day.” He said is a grating, pious tone. Joe simply smiled and continued flipping burgers. He hated talking with the man, but he needed the sale, and it meant too much to let it slip through his fingers.
“Yeah, she's a nice one today...” He offered.
The minister reached into a nearby ice chest and pulled out a bottle of beer. As he snapped the lid off, he continued to engage Joe in unwelcome conversation.
“You know the best thing about Verde Grande? It's not just the top level golf course, or the big beautiful homes, but it's that nice gate at the front. I love keeping out the riffraff!” He said, as his big belly bounced in time to his raucous guffaws.
Joe narrowed his eyes at the man. He was dangerously close to throwing all this out the window for one good swing at the fake little asshole. He heard the other parishioners milling about in the back yard, and inside the house. He suddenly saw them for who they really were. All of them were just fake, two faced suburbanites that were hiding behind this whole God thing. He flashed back to his time stuck in that little Airstream trailer, and how the firefighters had to pull him away kicking and screaming from his own trailer while his mom died inside. Everything welled up in one instance, and he found himself running toward the front door when Ernesto intercepted him.
“Where you going boss?” He said. He was mirroring Joe's own look of shock as he watched
his boss freak out.
Joe tossed the barbeque spatula to his assistant. “You take over. I need some air.” He said, as his chest began getting tight.
Out in the backyard, Sarah smiled in triumph. She had bested the most prominent realtor at his own game! Should she gloat about it? Naw, she'd tell him when all was said and done. She kicked her shoes off and walked around on the immaculate grass while it spread up in between her toes.
All the couples were milling around and talking amongst themselves, so she decided to go and rub elbows with everyone. Shoes or not-
It was then that she tripped over a thick tow cable running into the back door of the house. “When did that get here?”She gauged it at maybe one inch in diameter, as she followed it through the living room, down the steps, and out to the front yard. It came to a stop, right at her car. A quick peek underneath revealed that it was securely fastened to the undercarriage with bolts and screws. A sudden feeling of dread swept away her previous optimism, as she ran back in the house to find out where the other end stopped.
She followed it back to the rear fence. As she peered over the cedar planking, she saw a large dump truck nestled in amongst the trees behind the house. The end of the cable was securely latched to the back of the truck! He wouldn't....
Like a person on auto pilot, she didn't recall running inside to clear everyone out. Everything seemed to move in some kind of blurred slow motion, as she ushered every last person out to their confusion and displeasure.
She was pulling her phone out when she heard the truck in back thunder to life. Her heart was beating out of her chest, as a wave of panic swept the group of prospective home buyers on the front lawn. What happened next would go down in history as the most insane version of professional rivalry ever. She watched her cute little electric car, as it was slowly dragged to the front door by the thick cable. Once the little car met the front door, it began twisting and deforming as the truck towed it into the front of the house. Sarah watched with morbid fascination, as the car continued to be slowly dragged through the bottom floor of the house as it destroyed everything in it's path. The house buckled and shook as the car passed through one wall after another. Once it cleared the back stairs, what was left of her car clattered down to the back yard and was hauled off with the alarm still blaring and beeping. She reached into her purse and turned off the alarm with a compliant “beep”, while it continued it slow march behind the dump truck.
She turned to look at the car-shaped hole that had been punched through the house. The prospective buyers looked at her from the other side of the hole, as random bits of drywall and plaster fell to the ground. A pipe had been damaged, and water flowed unbidden into the demolished remains of the once-beautiful home.
Joe was trying to catch his breath. He had never had a panic attack in his adult life, but he was experiencing it now. As the outer walls of the large house loomed over him, he shook his head and tried to get a hold of himself. A quick check on Ernesto let him know that he was okay to take a quick walk. He silenced his phone, and strolled out to the street to get some air.
The pleasant day was not nearly as hot as it was supposed to be. He swung his arms and adopted a brisk gait, as he strolled on.
He heard a loud engine noise coming toward him, and he turned in time to see the large dump truck. Tagging along behind it was the wreckage of Sarah's little wind up car! He knew that Ernesto had something planned, but he left it up to him to take initiative on it. As the car banged and emitted a metallic screech, Joe felt a big smile spread across his face. The first adolescent giggles gave way finally to giant heaving laughter. Tears of comedic ecstasy rolled out of him, while he watched a large, black van pull onto the front lawn of the house he was showing.
As he watched on, men began unloading from the van dressed as some kind of law enforcement. His joy vanished, as he ran back to see what the commotion was all about.
As he ran in the front door, he was stopped by some guy wearing a SWAT uniform. With a gun pointed right in his face, Joe held his hands up and did what the agent said.
“Put your hands on your head and face the wall!” The large man said with authority.
Joe saw that the other guests of Mr. Goodwell were all rounded up in the living room with their hands on their heads as well. They emotions ranged from terror to anger, while Joe felt his heart racing.
The man who stopped him at the door proceeded to frisk Joe.
“Am I gonna find any contraband or weapons on you sir?” The man asked. He took out Joe's phone and tossed it aside, as he continued his search.
It was when the man cupped his crotch that Joe got the sense that something was amiss.
“Well well well, it looks like this guy is packing heat!” The man said, as he reached up to tear his shirt off. The man proceeded to pull off his pants as well, and stood there in only a gold g string
“Wait, what?” Was all Joe could utter.
The other men, right on cue, whipped of their outfits with impressive synchronicity. Another man produced a large boom box. As the song “I'm too sexy” blared through the cavernous house, the men all began gyrating their hips and thrusting their crotches in the faces of the ultraconservative party goers while they sat on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Joe shrugged, and made his way out to the backyard. He pulled one of the burgers off the grill, as Ernesto looked on with pride.
“That's some weird music for a bunch of church people.” Ernesto said. His position at the grill made him oblivious to the commotion inside.
Joe chuckled to himself, as he watched the good minister receive a very involuntary lap dance from a couple of oiled up muscle men. He placed the burger inside a bun and squirted on some mustard. “Yeah it is. These are great, by the way.” His attentions turned to the delicious burger, as he un-slienced his phone.
It rang almost instantly, and he unlocked it and held it to his ear.
“You had to wreck my car.” Sarah said to him. Her voice was even and calm, and had just a note of idle frivolity. “You should have seen the hole it made!” She finally blurted out with a laugh.
Joe took a big bite of his burger while he smiled in the noontime heat. “That car didn't suit you. Nice choice on the strippers by the way.” He said with his own little laugh.
“Yeah, they were friends of Roxy's. They're available for private bookings as well.” She sang in a teasing voice.
“Actually, I'm watching them handcuff the minister to a chair right now. I wonder if there's a safe word or something to make them stop...” Joe mused idly, while he watched their enthusiastic performance continue against the minster's wishes. He finished the burger and wiped his hands on his gray Armani slacks.
“You should come over. Ernesto's cooking burgers and hot dogs.” He offered sincerely.
“I would, but I have to stay until the fire department secures the large hole in the house. There's a news crew here too.” Sarah said over the blaring sirens.
“I'll handle it.”Joe said absently.
“Joe?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you have Roxy lie to me?”
Joe reached into the cooler to grab a Coke. While he popped it open, Ernesto sampled one of his burgers and nodded in approval. Joe though a little before he said anything.
“ I wanted to keep the playing field level. I didn't want sympathy. I've achieved everything in my life by my own hand, not by someone feeling pity for me. It was something my adoptive father always imbued in me.”
“I see. So, where does that leave us?” She asked with her hand cupped over her phone.
Joe clapped Ernesto on the back and put his sunglasses on. He strolled past the oily muscle bound dancers, as he made his way to the front door. Outside, he unlocked his car with the key fob and said, “I guess I'll see you at the awards.”
Sarah arrived at the award in her rental car. After she paid the valet, she straightened her slinky little black dress, and checked her makeup o
ne last time. She was surprised to be assaulted by such a press turnout. They all thrust microphones and cameras in her face, while they kept asking about the competition she and Joe had.
The entire story went viral, and she was spending every day fending off paparazzi and offers for talk show appearances. As she stepped into the fancy banquet hall, the entire crowd shushed and turned towards her.
She felt her stomach flip flop, as she scanned the vast crowd in a panic. Upon seeing Jessica sitting at a table, she made a beeline through the throng of people and sat down next to her. Mr. Nelson sat down across from them with a drink in his hand and winked at Sarah.
“You look great!” Jessica said. She had to shout over the din of the large crowd.
“Thanks!” Sarah shouted back. “I just want to get this over with and go sleep.” She admitted. While she stole a sip from Jess's Martini, the entire banquet hall became completely silent.
Amongst hushed voices and whispers, Joseph Blake made his way slowly too the podium. He was wearing a tuxedo like it was something he did every day. As he set his champagne glass down, he took his time straightening the microphone and clearing his throat. Sarah knew he was just playing up the moment to manipulate the crowd. She still had to smile regardless.
“Those of us that are members of the Gold Coast Realtor's Association know how important this award is.” He said. In his hand was the laser cut glass monolith with the Association's name engraved in the front.
“In spite of your best efforts, I usually win this every year.” He paused as the laughter at his joke died down. “But this year, I made a bet with a motivated young woman to see who could sell the most from one housing tract in one month.”
He gestured to the large press pit at the back of the hall. “Needless to say, we both got a little carried away.” Everyone erupted in laughter again, while Joe paused to take a drink from his glass.
“But this competition reminded me that I love the game. I love the rush from finding a lead, or really earning that commission. I was in a real slump until Sarah Bella came along and agreed to my ludicrous wager. And now, I would like to present the Gold Coast Realtor's Association award to the best in the game! Sarah, get up here!”
The crowd jumped up, and there was a thunderous amount of applause as she made her way to the podium. She stood there and looked out while camera flashes blinded her momentarily. She felt Joe place his hand on the small of her back, and she turned to smile at him.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You really earned this, Miss Bella.” He said with a genuine smile.
Sarah took the large glass trophy and held it in her hands. She was surprised by the heftiness of it, and she set it down carefully on the table next to Joe's champagne glass.
While the crowd sat waiting for her speech, she drew a complete blank on what to say. How do you even put into words what happened over the last month? She looked up at Joe, who gave her a confused shrug.
“Say something!” He goaded quietly.
“I don't know what to say!” She said with a timid shrug.
“While they're waiting, I wanted to give you something else.” Joe said.
In one smooth motion, he hooked his leg behind hers and dipper her low. She reflexively grabbed his lapels, and gave him a wide eyed look. It was then that he leaned in and kissed her. Just the way she wanted. While the crowd broke into another round of raucous cheering, it was all just distant noise. Joe tilted, and pivoted, and kissed her like it was some kind of dance. She just held on and curled her toes while she got the award she really wanted!
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