Leila runs over to get her jacket. “I want a large.”
“Large what?” I amble behind her.
“Large of whatever it is that we’re ordering.”
It turns out she likes chocolate dipped strawberries blended with ice cream. She has good taste. It’s delicious. I make her feed me since I’m driving.
“Large is not big enough when I have to share it.” She pouts. “Here, have some more of your toffee one.”
“It’s not as good as yours.”
“You should’ve ordered mine then.”
“Noted. Next time.”
“How long do you plan to keep me locked up in your house?” she teases.
“Oh, forever.” And I don’t laugh. Not even when she continues to giggle. She’ll come around though. Everyone comes to my way of thinking eventually.
Maybe it’s the sunshine or maybe it’s the convertible, but she opens up a little on the way to the D1 Tower project. She tells me about her mother and missing her. She admits my digs are better than the long-term motel room.
“Your microwave doesn’t take five minutes to cook a sixty-second burrito,” she says.
“That’s good. That thing ran me three grand.”
“Three thousand dollars for a microwave?” she yelps.
“Hey, it does other things too.”
“Like what?”
I shrug. “Who the hell knows.” I swerve into the curved drive and park in front of the lobby. Construction is going strong. I nab a couple hard hats from the back seat and plop one on her head. “It’s what we put in all the units. High end all the way.”
“The microwave should assemble the burrito and then cook it at that cost,” she mutters.
“If you find an appliance that does that, let me know. We could make a killing.” I hold open the lobby door and usher her inside.
“How did you get into commercial real estate? You said your dad was mostly residential?”
“Yeah. He had a buyer who owned this four-door strip mall—'doors’ is how we talk about rentals. If a unit has sixty doors, that’s sixty tenants. Got me?” She nods. “So it was a small thing with a cracked concrete parking lot, broken signs, and a complete vacancy. He wanted to get rid of it because he hadn’t been able to rent it out and the taxes were killing him. What he didn’t realize was that he was trying for the wrong tenant. He’d tried to lure the staples like a dry cleaner and a nail salon and a pub, but that wasn’t the demo. There was a skate park across the street. The tenants needed to match that, so I asked my dad for a loan, bought the property, recruited a bike and skate shop and an ice cream and burger joint as my anchors. The nail salon stayed because moms that dropped their kids off at the skate park would sit inside, drink champagne, and get their nails done.”
“Wait, is that the Wheels Plaza over on 64th and University?”
“Yeah.” I feel my chest puff with pride.
“That area is booming now. It’s so busy all the time.”
I grin like a child receiving a gold star in kindergarten. “Yeah, just like this area. This place is nice, but I’ve got my eye on a property over on the waterfront. It’s a gem.”
“Is that the Park Hill one you were talking about on the phone?”
“Yup.”
“You seem excited.”
“I am. This shit is fun. The pie is limited. There’s only so much real estate to sell so you have to hustle, you have to be creative, and you have to know what you’re doing. Too many times someone gets involved in the game who doesn’t know what they’re doing. I don’t fault them. They’re brought in by someone else who’s taking advantage of their ignorance or their naivety or both.”
“And as long as you don’t have to see the consequences, then it doesn’t matter who loses?” she shoots at me.
I take a moment because she’s pissed, which catches me off guard. I thought we were connecting, but the way she accuses me of being shady makes me wonder if she or someone she knew lost money on a speculative land deal.
“No. It does matter. There are some fucked-up people in the real estate business and if there’s someone who I feel is in over their heads, I try to warn them. But a lot of people do not want any help, Leila. Like a few weeks or months ago, some guy killed himself after he’d invested all his life savings into an investment scheme to purchase this hotel property. The guy who was running the scheme didn’t have enough for the bid minimum. Instead of telling his investors that, he ran off with the money.”
“This place? The one we’re looking at?” She turns in a slow circle in the middle of the dust-filled lobby. The glass is going up for the retail units, and the marble reception desks were installed two days ago. It’s shaping up.
“Yeah. Heard about it from the seller actually. It’s fucking sad.”
“What’s going on with the lead investor? Do you know who he is?”
“I don’t. I hadn’t run into him on a bid before. I did hear that he had some bigger investors who want their money back and might have the power to eke it out of him, but I haven’t kept track of that.”
“What about the people who don’t have the power to get their money back? What about them?”
“Leila, sweetheart, those people shouldn’t be playing the game with me then.”
“Maybe I don’t want to play with you either.” She turns suddenly and runs out the door, leaving me flat footed and completely baffled. What just happened?
Chapter Fifteen
Leila
My head hurts. Yet, it’s nowhere near as bad as the ache in my chest. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing here. For a brief moment I questioned if I might have been on the wrong side of all of this. Then Warren kept talking. It was the patronizing way he smiled and said people shouldn’t be playing the game with him. It had been like a sucker punch.
Out of all the projects he could have taken me to, it was that one. I’m not sure if the ache in my chest is because of that or that for a brief moment I no longer wished to be on the wrong side. I’d allowed myself to believe that Warren was the good guy and my feelings for him we’re justified. Thankfully, he made sure to show me his real colors, and I know for certain I’m doing what needs to be done.
I keep walking with no clue where I’m going. My phone starts to ring, and Chris’ name lights up the screen. I answer.
“Hey.”
“You did it!” he shouts excitedly into the phone. “The Park Hill deal. We stole it right out from under him. We’re going to make a fucking killing off this deal. If Warren was pushing this hard for it, he must know its potential.” My smile is weak as I listen to the good news. He deserved this. It was only fair. Maybe he shouldn’t have been playing the game with me. That’s what my mind keeps telling me, but my heart is screaming something different altogether.
“So I’m done?” I ask. Warren was so excited when he talked about the Park Hill property. What now? I just walk away? Still, something feels unfinished. Him losing a contract might be a kick in the balls, but I want him to lose something more.