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When Rhiannon looked up at her, she smiled, a broad genuine smile before glancing at the nearly empty bag of chips next to her knee. “I can always eat,” she replied with a raised eyebrow.
Carmela rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop her chuckle.
Rhiannon was incorrigible, but much like a toxic mold, she was growing on her. “We might have a bite on the house. Did you bring something other than your play clothes?” she asked, pointing at her casual outfit.
“Duh, I’m always ready for action,” she replied as she stood and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Give me fifteen minutes.”
Rhiannon dug around in her purse before pulling out a set of car keys with a #1 Dad keyring.
“Make it ten,” Carmela replied. “I’ll meet you in my car.
We can’t take your parent’s sedan.”
Rhiannon’s face flushed bright pink. “How did you know it wasn’t my car?”
“Invest in adhesive remover. Your car is the biggest sign of success to most clients. You’re not old enough to have served in Operation Desert Storm,” she said before turning on her too high heels.
“But my dad loves those bumper stickers,” she muttered to herself as Carmela walked away, prompting another smirk on her lips.
Much to her surprise, Rhiannon was out of the o ce at the ten-minute mark, her straight hair hanging neatly around her bare shoulders and her lean body in a well-tailored, dark blue sheath dress and nude heels.
“I’m impressed,” Carmela said as Rhiannon slipped into her car. “I had to bomb an impromptu client meeting before I learned to keep a change of clothes in the car.”
Rhiannon laughed, her gray eyes luminescent against the smokey eye makeup. “I’m sure in your pre-internet days there were no advice blogs for you to read,” she replied with a grin.
“It was hard to pass along info on those stone tablets,”
she countered with a laugh.
“Thanks for not just going without me,” Rhiannon said as they headed for the highway.
The sincerity caught her o guard. “Yeah, well, I promised Liz I’d play nice,” she deflected.
“Oh. Is that what you call this?” Rhiannon chuckled. “I’m glad we have a chance to talk. I’ve been thinking about our marketing tactics. We need to think outside the box—”
Carmela didn’t let her finish. “What’s wrong with my marketing tactics? Everything I use is tried and true.”
Rhiannon let out a bark of laughter so loud Carmela jumped. “You mean like that billboard of you holding that little house in your hands while rocking that tragic early aughts hair? Who talked you into that severe middle part and chunky highlights? Your hair looks much better black.”
Taking her eyes o the road for a moment, Carmela glared at her. “What were you wearing in the early 2000s?
Diapers?”
“Don’t get sensitive,” she replied, still laughing. “I’m just saying it might be time for a change.”
“Why? It’s my brand. People recognize that image and it gives me a lot of name recognition. I’m not some fly-by-night nobody. I’m an established agent you can trust.”
Carmela tried not to sound too defensive, but she failed.
“Yeah, because it’s been the same for what? Fifteen years? It’s like those car accident lawyers on the side of the
road. People just tune that out as noise. Nobody’s driving around and thinks huh, I should call that lady from the sign on Southern Boulevard near the airport. They either ask someone they know, or they hit up Google.”
“Are you seriously telling me how to do real estate when you’ve been an agent for only a few months?” she snapped, irritated by the unsolicited advice.
“You haven’t even heard any of my ideas,” she complained.
“Are any of your ideas based on actual experience or just what you learned in blogs?” Carmela shot back, still annoyed and a little embarrassed after having been called old and out of touch. She was only thirty-nine. She wasn’t the Crypt Keeper.
