~Chapter 6~
Written by bornonhalloween
Based on Finally
I have a good feeling about today's showing.
If the listing sheet bears any semblance to reality, I'll have the Evil-Good's offer signed before my flax seeds kick in. And my best friend, Mr. Discover Card and I will be racking up the points at Adam & Eve before you can say, 'There's no place like my G-spot.' Just the thought of firing up that new Rabbit I've had my eye on brings a flush to my cheeks.
Luckily, my clients are in their own world where mere mortals treadeth not, and my arousal level is the farthest thing from their minds.
"So what do you think?" I ask hopefully, peering in my rear-view mirror as my clients scan the listing sheet between them in the back seat of my Suburban.
Bella's playing it cool, but I can tell she's all over this one. "Hmmm, the school bus stop is right at the end of the driveway, so I won't have to walk too far on a rainy day."
Her husband elbows her, "As if you don't walk on water, sweetheart."
I roll my eyes and pretend not to hear their lovey-dovey talk. "Pretend" being the operative word. Katherine Komma didn't get voted 'Queen of the Closers' five years running by giving clients more than the illusion of privacy.
So when Mister Hottie McBadBoy mentions that he can't wait to see the sauna, I make a gigantic mental note…SAUNA…check! Yep, because my mental notes come complete with ellipses.
*o*O*o*
We roll up in front of the house, and I cut the engine. Spinning in my seat, I pass along the very strange advice that the listing broker had given me late last night when I made the appointment. "Now, I just want you to remember that this is the in-law house, and the son and his wife live next door. Apparently," and this is where the story becomes really fuzzy, "the father-in-law and the wife…or sometimes it's the mother-in-law and the wife…"
They look at me expectantly. I scratch my head. How to explain? "Jesus."
"Hmmm?" Bella answers.
"What?" I respond.
"Honey," Edward says, "you're doing that…thing…again?"
"Oh yeah," she answers swiftly. "Sorry."
Damn these two are bizarre. If not for the commission…ah yes, the commission. "So, as I was saying, the in-laws are selling their house and moving to Miami. Well, the daughter-in-law and the…never mind. Let's just see if they're home."
*o*O*o*
"You can see that the grounds are immaculate," I point out. "Turns out the husband has quite the high standards," I say, adding a conspiratorial wink. "Not a blade of grass out of place." Sure, he's the ideal homeowner, from the realtor's perspective, but as a husband or a father? No effing thank you.
Perfect colonials line the street like girls in a prom photo- each facade screaming to be noticed above her peers, yet not daring to be different enough to risk not fitting in. Distinguished only by slightly differing shades of the same grays, whites and yellows, the clapboards nonetheless broadcast how well-loved each is by its owner by how recent that last coat of stain was applied. White picket fences abound, and I wonder how well my clients would assimilate to this seemingly perfect slice of suburbia. Somehow, they just don't seem the white picket fence types. Well maybe she is, but the husband? Sinful.
The three of us reach the front stoop. I lean in to press the bell, and the opening refrain from "We Are Family" rings out from the speakers. Ah, good old American values. I'll be surprised if the missus doesn't pull out a freshly-baked apple pie from the oven.
Bella takes her husband's hand in hers and smiles brilliantly. "Oh darling, listen. I can feel so much love coming from this house! This is gonna be it, I just know it is!"
Edward smiles back at her, but it's not whole-hearted. His ears prick up at the wail of a young child inside. Edward turns to me and asks, "How old did you say this couple was?" His direct glare feels like the hot wave of air you get when you step out of your air-conditioned car on a scorching hot day.
"Oh, uh…" I consult my notes. "Says here they're in their sixties."
He narrows his eyes at me and says, "Let me guess. Another immaculate conception?"
"What? Oh no…it must be the daughter-in-law visiting from next door with the baby. They're all very close."
Bella squeezes his hand and squeals, "Told ya so!"
"Whatever," Edward mumbles under his breath.
Come on, come on, already. I called ahead. Answer the door. I ready my finger over the black button… Answer the goddamn—
The large mahogany door is pulled away.
Fucking FINALLY.
*o*O*o*
"Hello," I say. "My name is Katherine Komma, and I'm with Ellipsis Real Estate. Is Mr., or Mrs. Cullen home?"
"I'm Mrs. Cullen," she answers, bouncing the fussy newborn in her arms.
"Mrs. Esme Cullen?" I press.
"Oh, no. That's my... um... mother-in-law," she answers, her cheeks flaming up with a sudden blush.
"And who's this little child?" my client asks, stepping around my body to offer the baby her finger. The baby sucks in her digit up to the first knuckle and instantly calms.
The woman answers, "Oh, this is Sarah Avery Grace Jasper."
"Your baby has four names?" Edward pipes in, before his wife elbows him in the side and looks at him crossly. Sure, he's hot as sin, but sometimes that man has a forked tongue he just can't quite manage to control.
She ignores his question and addresses me. "Yeah, well, my in-laws aren't here right now, but they did tell me you'd be stopping by, so if you want to look around, feel free."
"Thank you. I'll just give them a tour." She steps out of our way, and I walk my clients through the living room, stopping to admire and point out the hand-crocheted curtains on the way to the kitchen.
"Whoa, what in God's name is that?" Edward asks, pointing to a large framed photo on the wall beside the kitchen dinette.
"Honey," Bella chastises again. "Remember we're working on taking the Lord's name in vain?"
"Sorry, it's just... I mean, the likeness is uncanny, babe. It's clearly US! How did she get this picture? And what are we DOING here? I don't remember ever doing it quite in that position before! And what is that thing between your legs? Is that… oh my God—GOSH—oh my GOSH, is that a… WOOKY?"
Bella steps closer. "Hmmm, yes, it's definitely a wooky. But this isn't us. It's a manipulated photo. Look here, you don't have a tattoo right there. Now just relax, you're gonna get your blood pressure up again and I didn't bring your pills with me."
"Actually, I do feel a little bit ill suddenly..."
Oh shit, Edward's gonna hurl. Thinking quickly, I drag him over to the potted palm tree in the corner. "Quick, Edward, erf in here."
I try not to watch as Edward blows huge, smelly, vile chucks into the soil. His wife moves swiftly to his side and rubs soothing circles onto his back until he finishes. Swiping his forearm across his mouth, he briefly looks at me and says, "Sorry. That was super gross."
"Let me go get you a towel, Sweetheart," Bella says, passing through the kitchen and into the powder room by the front entrance.
In all my years as a realtor, I cannot say a client has ever barfed in a prospective seller's home before. I'm quite at a loss. Stepping as close as I can, without inhaling his caustic post-vomit scent, I ask quietly, "What do you think we should do with this plant?"
Edward shrugs his shoulders and returns my question with one of his own. "What Would BELLA Do?"
How the hell am I supposed to know? And what is she, the ultimate maven of right and wrong? Doesn't this dude have a moral compass of his own?
I make an executive decision to take the whole damn plant outside and leave it on the patio. I slide open the glass door and walk outside with the container, trying to avoid looking at the chunky bile-colored mixture.
Turning my head away from the soiled soil to take a deep cleansing breath, I reach my hand into my pocket and locate my clicker. If ever there were a time for it, I'd say that mid-tour hurling would definitely qualify. I press the button until my nerves calm and my heart rate slows to normal. I'm not exactly in my marathon training day's resting heart rate zone, but for a girl my age, with my stress level at work, I'd say I'm doing pretty damn fine.
My musing is interrupted by arguing coming from next door. And the voices are headed our way!
"And what the hell am I supposed to tell our friends when my daughter-in-law and my wife disappear at the same time?" the older gentleman yells as he steps closer to the man who must be his son.
"What the hell am I supposed to tell our friends when my daughter-in-law and my husband disappear at the same time?" the graying woman yells as she steps closer to the man who must be her husband.
I didn't think it was possible, but this family appears even more complicated and messed up than my clients, and that is saying a lot. I have to wrap things up inside before this group of crazies messes up my mansion-moving mojo.
As I glide the glass slider shut behind me and rinse my hands in the sink, I warn, "I think the rest of the family is back now. If you want to see the bedrooms, we should probably head up there quickly. It's always uncomfortable for the sellers to know that strangers are in their bedroom."
Edward and Bella turn to me from where they're huddled together at the table. "I'm afraid my husband is running a fever," Bella says. "I need to get him home."
Poor Edward is red in the face and perspiration beads up all along his forehead. "You do look extremely hot," I add, then bite my lip really fucking hard. Bella rolls her eyes at me and I shrug helplessly. Seriously, lady, when you're married to that, you just have to get used to it.
"Come on," I say, once I trust myself not to say something else completely asinine. "Let's get out of here."
We sashay quickly back through the living room and make it through the front door just as the threesome from next door arrives. "Oh, hello," I say awkwardly. "I'm Katherine Komma from Ellipsis Real Estate, and these are the Evil-Goods."
"I'm Edward, and this is my father, Carlisle."
"Very funny, Edward. I'm obviously the son—Carlisle."
What in the name of ever loving Christ? My head is spinning. I make an emergency dive for the clicker and press continuously until the two men shut up. CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.
Thankfully there's only one woman present and she doesn't seem to be confused as to who she is.
"I'm Esme. And you already met our grandchild?"
All eyes turn to the sweet baby now sound asleep in its mother's arms. And every eye also takes in the line of white spittle gracing the mother's chest.
Without hesitation, my client, clearly a glutton for punishment, swipes up the residue on her fingertip, mumbling, "Oh, dear. You seem to have a drabble…"
"Did you say 'a drabble'?" I repeat the strange word. "Doesn't that have something to do with verbal warfare?"
"Sorry." Her husband pales at the sight of the spit-up on his wife's finger, and rushes outside to throw up again on the front lawn.
"Nice meeting you," Bella smiles pleasantly, pushing outside to tend to Edward. "Meet you at the car, KK?"
Huh? I've got a nickname now? I suppose vomit does breed a certain level of familiarity.
"Well, thank you all," I say in closing, backing out the door.
Sigh. I guess I'll have to settle for one of my old toys tonight. Looks like that commission will just have to wait.
.
.
.
