Love All The Way

4| Strictly professional

Show time.

The document comes through at eleven as promised. The moment it pings, most of the office scramble to open our emails, scouring through Laurelle's instructions. From the looks of things, my property is located in Manhattan, a penthouse suite in an expensive apartment block. My heart pounds as I click on the link. These million-dollar properties usually go to the sevens, who get a ten percent cut for their efforts, which means if I can sell this apartment for the asking price, I'll have earned enough to be able to keep my apartment - for now.

I spend the next hour finding out everything I can about this property. It's a 63-story residential tower in the heart of Manhattan's Midtown Cultural District, with 94 apartments ranging from studios to a 4-bedroom duplex penthouse.

The property I'm looking at is over two and a half million, an amount my little brain can barely comprehend, but is a drop in the bucket in Manhattan. Ten percent of that would be 250,000 before tax, which is nothing in comparison to what the sevens are earning-or Laurelle for that matter-but to me, it's like winning the lottery.

At some point, I head to the coffee machine and press for my usual. As I wait, someone walks behind me, so I turn and see Milo. He taps his foot the same way he always does when waiting for his coffee. "Ditched the red, I see."

I turn to the coffee machine, so it doesn't look like we're talking. The last thing I need is to give people more ammo. "I decided it wasn't me."

"No, it wasn't," he agrees.

The coffee pours slower than ever. I can feel him behind me, his body radiating heat and making me feel flustered. I glance at him again, and he raises an eyebrow. He's wearing a black tie with tiny Mickey Mouses all over it. Just like my lipstick, his ties are his little way of rebelling.

"There's a meeting in five," Milo says like I don't know this. "Planning on wearing your coffee again?" He's standing right behind me, close enough for me to smell that familiar aftershave.

"Ha ha," I say, but this is all so weird. Milo and I never used to talk in the middle of a work day, but it's as though our locking of lips unlocked new social interactions. When my Espresso is ready, I grab my cup and walk straight to my desk, refusing to turn back around. Jess sits and watches me, both eyebrows raised like she can't believe her eyes.

Neither can I.

After a brief board meeting with the finance exec, I spend the rest of the day getting in touch with the staging company we've partnered with. Staging a home means bringing in furniture and working with a staging company to make an environment where a client can visualize themselves in the home. It takes a lot of thought and communication to get it right, so of course, I take most of my inspiration from Pinterest.

"Take a break already," Jess whines.

I look up to see her watching me from her over her laptop. She's right, I've been working like a maniac trying to deal with my usual clients while getting this new property ready. I glance at the coffee machine, where Milo is already waiting for his espresso.

"Sorry," I say, and then I tell her all about the property Laurelle has assigned to me. Jess listens intently, sipping her coffee while raising her eyebrows.

She knows as well as I do what it would mean to snag a property like this. While the properties and clientele we deal with on six are more upscale than on five, the commission we receive is still peanuts in comparison to seven.

"That should tie you over for the next few months with your rent, right?" she asks.

"It should do," I say, "and if I do a good job, who knows? There might be a promotion waiting for me."