All About Me. Marcia King-Gamble

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СКАЧАТЬ out my triple Ds. “Now I am officially a full-fledged Realtor.”

      “Good for you. Will you be juggling two jobs then, or will you be quitting on me?”

      Better to play it cool and keep my mouth shut. Jen didn’t have to know I had high aspirations; one of them being to get the credit I deserved at the Chronicle. I didn’t want her job, I just wanted equal billing. Dear Jenna and Chere, sounded sweet to me.

      “You know I can’t afford to quit,” I said smiling brightly. She was after all still my boss. “I need a regular salary. Besides who said I didn’t like my job.”

      One side of Jen’s lips curled up. “I thought you were bored opening mailing and cataloguing it.”

      “Who said I was bored?”

      She cut her eyes at me. I didn’t have her fooled.

      I wasn’t exactly bored, but I did have a short attention span. I hated sitting for hours. Plus much of the advice Jen dished out came from me. I knew everything there was to know in Flamingo Beach. And even if the people who wrote in didn’t sign their real names, it was easy to figure. Nothing but nothing escaped me.

      I dug into a drawer and found a letter opener, no point ruining my nails. Manicures were expensive. Especially those that had fancy artwork and sequins on them. This week mine had dolphins jumping. I’d turned into a Florida girl through and through.

      “You set a date for the wedding?” I asked, my stomach rumbling thinking of that wedding cake with strawberries, fresh cream and icing.

      “Tre and I will do that this weekend.”

      It sounded to me like Tre Monroe was delaying committing. Not that I would tell Jen that. He’d been the beach’s most eligible bachelor up until missy here, from Ashton snatched him up. They’d hated each other on sight. Then somewhere along the way that hatred had turned to love. Now the buzz was they were living together.

      “What’s going to happen to your apartment?” I asked, partially because I was curious, and partially because I needed to find out if she wanted to rent. Heck I was a Realtor plus I had my own ulterior motive.

      “I’m thinking about renting.”

      I wound a lock of weaved auburn hair around a jeweled fingernail and thought about how to play this. I needed a place to live. My landlady claimed her daughter and her kid were moving back to Flamingo Beach. She’d given me notice to start looking.

      If I put my stuff in storage, and moved into Jen’s fancy apartment, it might work. Flamingo Place was the type of upscale complex that could do wonders for my new image. And Jen’s waterfront digs were to die for. I just couldn’t afford to pay what she was paying.

      “When are you thinking of leasing?” I asked.

      She crossed one skinny leg over the other. Jen had that polished look I was striving for but couldn’t quite pull off. If you weighed two hundred and twenty-five pounds and squeezed into a midthigh skirt and three-inch stilettos, you looked like a hooker. You got lots of attention but for all the wrong reasons.

      “Do you know someone who might be interested?” Jen asked, “I could make the apartment available immediately. I’m spending more and more time at Tre’s place and an empty apartment isn’t a good thing.”

      She’d confirmed they were more or less living together. Opportunity only knocked once. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

      “I might be interested.”

      “You?”

      Jen sounded like she didn’t think I was serious.

      I explained what had happened with my landlady.

      “Hmm,” she said, stroking her chin. “But what would you do with all of your stuff?”

      “Put it in storage. It would only be for a couple of months. I don’t even know if I can afford the rent.” I played my ace card. “There is a plus to having me live there.”

      “And what is that?”

      “Being that I’m officially in the real estate business, and I know a lot of people, I could keep an eye out for a tenant. You’d be my very first client.”

      “Hmm.”

      All these “hmms” were beginning to annoy me. I might be a lowly peon at the Chronicle but I was well connected. Jen knew exactly who’d gotten me this job; Ian Pendergrass himself. She also knew I’d introduced her to a lot of important people.

      “Could you manage to pay say six hundred dollars a month?” Jen asked. “That would be half of my mortgage. I’ll pick up the other half until you find me a tenant.”

      “I could pay five,” I countered, crossing my fingers behind my back. Five hundred would be a steal for Jen’s two-bedroom water-view apartment, and I would be able to put aside a few hundred per month. She didn’t have to know the rattrap I lived in was costing me close to a thousand.

      I’d slaved to make the place pretty. The toilets leaked and the pictures on the walls hid holes and flaking plaster. Even the partitions were thin. During the late hours you could hear the neighbors’ bedsprings squeak. I’m sparing you the graphics. You don’t want to know.

      “Okay, we’ll agree on five.”

      I squealed loudly and moved in to hug her.

      The phone rang and we both reached for it.

      “This is Dear Jenna,” Jen said in her professional voice. I was surprised when she handed the receiver to me.

      “New boyfriend? He’s got a sexy voice.”

      I wish.

      “Hello, this is Chere,” I said, the elocution classes I attended one night a week finally kicking in. Plus I remembered the reprimand I’d received from Jen for saying, “Hey.”

      “Just a reminder, tomorrow morning at seven. Don’t mess up.” It was Quen Abrahams again. I’d missed one session two weeks ago and trust me I’d heard about it. I’d needed my beauty sleep and I’d overslept.

      I groaned. I’d forgotten all about making that appointment. Plus I didn’t have the extra sixty dollars to pay him even though he was giving me a break.

      Quen was not only Flamingo Place’s health club manager and on-site nutritionist, but was doing me a favor personally training me.

      “My legs are killing me. Every bone hurts,” I whined.

      “It’ll get better,” Quen said in that voice that reminded me of nights when the temperature in Florida dipped into the fifties and you broke out the wine and Barry White. “Did you weigh in today?”

      I grunted something. I’d totally forgotten.

      I could feel Jen’s eyes on me and sensed the wheels turning. Everyone thought I was easy and had a string of men. They should only know what it took for me to sleep with a man. Courage. Ian and I hadn’t exactly slept together. The old СКАЧАТЬ