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Call, text, or email me and remember… the dirtier the better.
Pics are also welcome because I’m a very visual person.
Fuck me. I shake my head, the smile not leaving my face. Imagine her face when she saw that—assuming she isn’t the one who posted it. Or when that first reply came in. God, what I would have paid to have seen that.
The elevator doors open, I look up and step in. When the elevator finally gets to my floor, I get out and walk down the empty hallway to my apartment. I bang loudly on the door of my neighbor as I pass it. I look back when the door swings open and Lewis pokes his head out. He grins at me.
“You coming in? After you made me go to the trouble of answering, you better be,” he warns.
“What? You mean I finally got you off that lazy ass of yours?” I grin.
He opens the door wider, wheeling his chair back far enough for me to squeeze in, then he closes the door and wheels down to the kitchen. I follow, still chuckling over my little play on words back there. I lean against the counter as he opens the fridge, grabbing two sodas. He tosses me one and I flick it open, then take a mouthful.
“You’re so quick with the one-liners.” He grins over his shoulder at me. “Forget property development, Cammy. Your calling was to become a clown.”
“A clown?”
I ignore the fact that he called me Cammy, which he knows I fucking hate with a passion. It makes me feel like a perky blonde cheerleader, which I definitely am not. Aside from the fact that I’m the type of guy you’d find on the football field, kicking the winning goal, I couldn’t cheer to save my life.
“Yes. You’d be a hit at kid’s birthday parties.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” I chuckle.
“I’m being serious,” Lewis says.
He wheels over into the living area and hoists himself off his seat and into an armchair. I watch with admiration. The strength he must have in his upper body amazes me.
“Didn’t you hear? Bitter, deadpan clowns are a hit with those hipster, emo type kids.”
“I’m sure they are.” I grin. “But I’ll stick to what I know if it’s all the same to you.”
“Really?” He grins. “I thought you didn’t really know much of anything.”
“Fucking hilarious,” I say.
I started working at Pearson Property Development fresh out of college, five years ago. My first second year I brought the highest level of profit into the company in their forty-six-year history. By the end of my fourth year working there, I’d moved up to the second highest role, with only the CEO above me. The idea of them moving the head office to New York was developed around one deciding factor; that they’d keep the LA office as a second location and I’d be the one running it. At only twenty-seven, it was a pretty impressive accomplishment on my part.
The transition was supposed to have been a smooth one, but it had been anything but. Relocating everything from the office here, to New York had gone to plan, but getting LA ready for operation had run into delay after delay.
I love what I do, I’m damn good at it and I know the market better than anyone. I'm also great at negotiating, which means I get the best deal, every time. But most of all, I’m charming, which means I don’t just win, I do it in a manner that leaves everyone feeling like a winner.
I raise my eyebrows at Lewis. Three in the afternoon and he’s still wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts?
“Hey, quit making me feel bad,” he protests, glancing down at his attire. “I’m on vacation, remember?”
“Let me guess, you’ve just been sitting around playing Xbox all day?” I chuckle and nod at his legs. “Watch yourself with all that sitting down. They’ll fall off.”
“Many paraplegics would take offense to a comment like that,” he informs me, but his eyes are sparkling as he says it. “You’re lucky I find your fucked-up sense of humor amusing.”
“You’re having a great time, aren’t you?” I clear away enough empty pizza boxes so I can sit down. “You’re not going to want to go back to work at all.”
“Trust me, I am,” he groans. “And it’s only day three. How the hell am I going to handle this for two weeks?”
Lewis had arranged two weeks off his very high pressure, demanding job as a stockbroker, to go on some family vacation his mom pressured him into. However, at the last minute, his dad broke both legs after falling off the roof. He’d decided on the morning they were supposed to leave for vacation, was the perfect day to clean the gutters, which hadn’t been touched in almost twelve years. Lewis found it hilarious that both he and his Dad were in wheelchairs, right up to the point where his boss said Lewis couldn’t cancel his leave.
