Ballbuster, man. Granted, this guy Murphy was one of her oldest friends, and someone she’s sold at least one other property to that I know of. But still, she was a ballbuster.
She was in the center of the room, listening, eyes closed, silently chewing on her lower lip. And then, her eyes flew open and she clenched her empty fist in victory, dancing in a circle.
“Okay,” she said, her voice level and cool as a cucumber. “They’re asking five-point-two-five, but they haven’t had any offers yet, so you could go in at…five even, if you’re willing to go up closer to full asking. Okay, I’ll send it over. Give me five minutes. Okay, talk soon.” She ended the call, demurely placed her phone into her bag, and then began dancing a gleeful little jig, as well as she could in three-inch heels and a crazy tight miniskirt. “Boom, bitches. Top that.” She swept her pointer finger around the room.
“Boss lady already did top it,” Zoe said without looking up from her computer. “Eight-point-two.”
“Goddammit!” Laurel huffed, rolled her eyes. “You are such a chronic overachiever, you know that, Lizzy? Buzzkill.”
We were often mistaken for sisters, though were weren’t—of a height, both with naturally platinum hair, similar bone structure, similar builds, and even our eyes were close in shade, hers grayish-blue while mine were a swirl of blue and green.
“I’m the boss for a reason,” I said. “But good job. Let’s get these offers out, because I’m feeling like it’s wine-thirty.”
“Isn’t it always?” Autumn asked.
“No, not until the work is done.” I pointed at my computer. “I have to send this signed offer over to the sellers, and then we can tackle the rest tomorrow.”
Laurel was already sitting down, filling out the necessary portions of the offer form. There was little talk for a good half an hour, then, as we all wrapped up our day’s work.
I emailed both seller and buyer saying we’d sort out the rest of the process tomorrow, as long as everyone has signed the offer—I received the signed offer from the sellers, which meant we were pending.
A few last odds and ends, and then I put my laptop to sleep, stuffed it into my messenger bag along with a few folders of important documents, and stood up.
“Well, are we all ready?” I looked around at my girls. “I need a glass of wine.”
We almost always met for a drink after work, so it was a foregone conclusion that everyone was in. Except…there was hesitation.
I hadn’t wanted to point it out, because I’d wanted to think my five best friends in the world, my coworkers, employees, sisters from other misters…would remember that today was my birthday. My fortieth birthday, no less.
All I really wanted was a glass of wine with my best bitches.
And here they were trading meaningful glances as if referring to some conversation that hadn’t included me.
“Am I missing something?” I asked.
Kat approached me. “We’re not going for drinks tonight, Liz.”
“We’re not?”
She moved behind me. “Hold still.” Her hands grabbed my shoulders, holding me in place. “Nope. We’re kidnapping you.”
“Why would you do that? You could just tell me what’s going on.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Before I could protest, she had a blindfold around my eyes and was tying it. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“How the hell should I know? You put a blindfold on me.” I snorted. “Knowing you, just one, your middle.” I felt a breath of air as someone moved in front of me. “I can’t see a thing, alright? For real.”
“Good.” Kat turned me around. “Now, march. We’re going to the back door.”
I knew where I was in the room and had more than once navigated the room in near pitch dark, so I headed confidently toward where I knew the back door to be—my toes found the steps, and I followed the handrail up, trailed my fingers along the exposed brick wall to the door, and then waited.
“Now what?” I asked.
I felt Kat move past me—I knew it was her by her perfume: Chanel. “Now…” she took my hand and led me outside. “We party.”
I heard a diesel engine clattering. “Is that a party bus?”
“Sure is.” I heard a noise that I thought might a bus door opening. “Hiya, Bill, you ready for this? Because we’re fixing to tear this town apart, baby. Up we go, Lizzy.”
Step, step, step, and the noise of the engine was muted, and I felt leather seats on either side of me, and then Kat guided me to sit on a plush, deep, comfy leather seat.
“Why do I have to be blindfolded for this? I don’t know where we’re going, so what difference does not being able to see make?”
“Oh, no reason. We just thought it would be fun to blindfold you.” Kat was smirking—I could hear it. “Leave it on. It’s more fun.”
“Fine.” I snorted. “But it’s dumb.”
“You’re dumb.” She put a bottle into my hands. “Drink.”
“From the bottle?”
“Hell yes, from the bottle. You’re turning forty, bitch, we’re doing this up right. You didn’t think we forgot, did you?”
“I was starting to wonder.”
The rest of the girls were on the bus by now, filling it with overlapping chatter. I touched the bottle to my nose, sniffed—tequila.
“Oh hell no!” I yelled, shoving it away. “You know what happened the last time I got tequila wasted. I’m not going there again.”
“It was the funniest night of my life, is what happened,” Teddy said. “Drink up, boo. We’re getting you lit.”
“Tequila wasted Lizzy is a walking disaster,” I said, feeling my resolve weakening. “Also, I haven’t eaten lunch or dinner. You better be ready to babysit me.”
“We have the bus, and the driver, Bill, has been promised a hefty tip for being willing to help carry you into your house at the end of the night.”
“I have work to do tomorrow,” I protested. “I can’t be out of commission.”
“You’re under contract. You have no showings. Laurel got her offers in, so she’s pending as well. Yes, we turned off the lights, yes, we locked the door.” This was Autumn, on my left. “Just cut loose a little, Lizzy. We have a lot of fun planned.”
“Are there strippers? There better not be strippers. The last male stripper you hired tried to get me to pay him to blow him.”
“No, no strippers. We learned that lesson.” Zoe answered for the group on that one. “Also, I got an up close and personal look at what he was packing under that G-string, and let me tell you, I can see why he would charge for the honor. It was, like, whoa.”
I took a tentative sip of the tequila—Patron, baby. Another, heftier swig. “Chaser, chaser, ohmygod, wow.” Somebody put a cold, sweating can into my hand, and I fumbled at the rim, checking to make sure it was open, and then took a long swig—light beer. “Are you trying to kill me? Tequila chased with beer on an empty stomach?”
“We’re eating soon,” Autumn said, and then paused, I heard her swallow, hiss.