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She barely talks at all as we head south toward the University of Illinois campus. Cradled in the bucket seat, she knuckles her chin and stares out the window. Finally, she pulls her iPad out of her leather briefcase and swipes the screen to wake it up. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her thumbing through the listings we will visit today.
“So… paperwork good?” she finally asks in a clipped tone.
I am happy to agree and tell her so, but can’t help but notice that the temperature inside the car drops about 10 degrees immediately.
“Well, it was perfect,” I say for the second time, confused by her reaction.
But she shifts in her seat, turning her shoulders away from me. What the hell did I just say? The paperwork was perfect. She should know that.
This makes no sense. Obviously she is competent… probably even more than I am, if I am honest. And I have been nothing but polite here, right? If I rack my brain, I can not come up with any major missteps. Nothing that should have her treating me like I’m covered in leprosy lesions or anything like that.
What did I do? It’s maddening. It’s like she doesn’t even realize that I got her this job. She wasn’t going to get anywhere suing the company. She’s a million times better off than she was. You’d think she would give me a thank you or something.
But no. Icy stares. Cold shoulders. No matter what.
And actually, why do I even care?
I definitely should not care. After all, the work is getting done. That should be enough. It’s not like I’m looking for Fred to get warm to me, right? Then I shouldn’t expect it out of Clarissa either.
Of course, there is a small difference between them. One I should probably push right out of my mind.
We finally reach the office park, and I pull in and park right next to Isaac’s roadster. Guys like him always have cars that are way too young for them.
He is wearing a baseball cap and white Nikes, another strange convention of multimillionaires in Chicago. They seem to want to let you know that they could be drafted for the Bulls at any time. He grins and waves hello, careful to shake Clarissa’s hand first. Then he shakes mine, hard, and looks around with a thoughtful groan, as though weighing something mentally.
“This is it, eh?”
“Should be everything you need,” I assure him.
We walk around the property and do the usual things, checking room sizes and looking for evidence of water damage or mold. The last tenants took excellent care of the place. It was a high-end cosmetic surgery group, and they made several improvements.
But I can tell that he is not entirely convinced, so at the end of the tour when he rubs the back of his neck and twists his mouth sideways, I can practically read his mind. I know what is coming.
“I’m just not sure,” he admits.
Clarissa immediately takes action, strolling around the perimeter of the reception area as though she is his wife or girlfriend, who is a decision-maker on the pr
oject. It is a surprisingly effective bit of salesmanship, and I admire her for doing it. Isaac falls immediately into her thrall, his eyes tracking every move of her strong, elegant limbs. I realize suddenly that the slyly exposed bit of cleavage is not for my benefit. It was for his.
“I don’t know, Isaac,” she simpers. “I think this is pretty close to perfect, to be honest. You could see a lot of business from the University, maybe research?”
“Yeah, well…” He glances at me, and his expression changes to guilt as he shrugs. “If I am honest, I saw another property yesterday that had some pretty good attributes as well.”
Clarissa stops strolling and glances at me, her eyes narrowed. She and I both know what is up.
“Yeah…” Isaac continues. “Greg showed me a loft on the Near West Side. What can I say? It had a certain… something…”
I press my lips together, but stop myself from saying anything because Clarissa steps forward.
“You know what?” She suddenly smiles. “Greg has some great ideas. And I hear what you’re saying about this place, but you can keep an open mind, right?”
He smiles, slightly confused and cautious. But she is turning on the charm full blast, and in a few moments, he visibly relaxes.
“That’s what holistic healing is all about, right?” he chuckles.
She bounces on her toes and grins as though the deal is already settled. “Okay, how about this? Let me show you one more property, okay?”
He cringes and shrugs. “I already saw the listings—”
