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“I almost want to back out on the deal,” I said, “and as their realtor just so they have to deal with all the bullshit they created.”
“If it was just me,” Wesley told me, “I one hundred percent would. I’d be able to find another job in realty or, if not, I’d just do something else. But I can’t do that to you. You’re young and just got started.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, “maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You said it yourself, I’m not much of a salesperson. That’s the reputation I’ve got, so it must be true.”
Sure, Bradley took all the credit for those houses I sold, but my heart wasn’t into realty anymore. The only reason I got started was because it seemed like a good job where I wouldn’t be cramped in an office 40 hours a week. I’d get to meet people and talk to them at one of the most exciting times of their life. Unfortunately, some people just flat-out sucked. How excited could one get about moving people like Marty and Rebecca into a bigger house? That would just give more space for the arguments to echo.
“You were right,” Wesley said. “The market’s down right now and you had a few deals fall through in a row. That’s not you: that’s just bad luck. You’re wonderful with customers and much more welcoming than someone like me. I think you could go far in this industry if you didn’t have assholes like Bradley Burke holding you back.”
I wondered if we were making a mountain out of a molehill.
“What if we just come clean? We’re two consenting adults who had sex in a house we were selling. Everybody has sex everywhere in this world. There is literally nowhere on this planet that people haven’t fucked or tried to fuck. We just had the misfortune of getting caught.”
The toast popped out of the toaster just in time. Wesley put it on a plate along with the eggs and bacon as he shook his head.
“Twenty years ago, that might have worked,” he said. “Maybe even ten years ago, but office politics are different now. It’s not that we did anything wrong, just that it would look bad if the company just sat by and didn’t do anything. I wasn’t lying the other day: they’ve got auditors up our ass left and right, threatening to crack down on office harassment.”
“But this wasn’t harassment,” I told him. “It was consensual.”
He shrugged and sat down, taking a bite out of the eggs. “Go on,” he said, “eat.”
I started eating, following his lead, again remembering just how hungry I’d been.
“You’re talking nuance,” he said, “and you’re already on the defense, explaining how this was different. The second you have to defend yourself to the board of directors, you’ve already lost. They don’t understand nuance. They act like my friend and say hello to me every morning, but if it were ever an issue of them or me, they’d throw me to the sharks in a second.
“This is one of those times. If this goes public and Dynasty doesn’t fire us, that’s the end of the company. If they do fire us, then they’re taking a stand and it’s admirable.”
I was listening, but mostly I was eating. There was nothing to add to what he was saying: he was right. It was best to keep this under wraps — anything else would put the company in a bad situation which, in turn, would put us in a worse situation.
“So, we buy the house, then,” I said. “With the mold and the water damage.”
“Potential water damage,” he noted. “Dwight and his team are probably already there.”
“Still got mold, though.”
Wesley swallowed a bite of his bacon. “Yeah. And it’s likely the company’ll take a loss on the house, but I doubt it’ll be a big deal. Even if we do lose money on it, it becomes a write-off. But mostly, it gets Marty and Rebecca out of our hair and that’s honestly priceless.”
“Assuming they keep their end of the bargain.”
“Assuming that,” he noted.
I noticed there was a look of distant sadness in his eyes.
“What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” He made a hand motion as if pushing the very idea away.
“It’s not nothing if it’s upsetting you.”
He paused, as if considering whether or not he was going to tell me something.
“You know,” I said, “the phantom zone doesn’t need to be limited to your car.”
He tilted his head slightly towards me.
“I want to know more about you,” I said. “But maybe you don’t want to talk much about it. You just tell me ‘Phantom zone on’ and whatever you say, I’ll never mention it again.”
There was some definite contemplation in his expression.
