Chapter 7

Igushed to Noah the second I entered our cozy office, "Guess what I did!"

"You went out last night and met your soulmate?" he guessed.

"Okay, no," I said. "That would be a more exciting story to tell."

"You finally created a reel like I've been begging you to?"

"Noah!" I scolded him. "This is supposed to be a fun guessing game. Not a ‘what Kenna should have done' guessing game."

"Just tell me!" He was impatient to hear my news.

"I sent the skateboarder a text last night."

"You did?" he asked, unsure if I was being serious.

The smug look on my face confirmed it for him.

His tone immediately changed, "You did!"

"I'll be the proud owner of a new pair of sunglasses on Saturday," I bragged.

"Was he nice about it?" he asked.

"He wasn't exactly nice or rude. He doesn't seem like much of a texter."

"Keep your location turned on when you meet him on Saturday," he lectured me. "You know I like to make sure you're okay."

"When is my location ever turned off?" I asked. "If I go missing, I expect you to find me."

Sharing my location with my assistant provided a sense of security when I met with clients, and it worked equally well for date nights.

Not that I was going on many of those.

"What's his name?" Noah asked.

"Shit," I smacked my forehead. "I have no idea. I didn't ask him."

And I didn't think to tell him my name either.

"You can ask on Saturday," he said. "No big deal."

"So true. I saved his contact as ‘Skater Boy' for now."

"Okay, Avril Lavigne," Noah teased me.

"Hey! I didn't put the number eight in mine," I clarified. "And ‘boy' is spelled correctly."

"Of course it is. Have you talked to Brett?" Noah asked.

"No," I sheepishly admitted. "I plan on calling him next week. It's Friday, Noah!"

"It's not like I'm scolding you," he laughed. "This is your company. You know I never even liked Brett."

"I know," I said.

My friends admitted they disliked Brett once my relationship with him ended. Why could no one tell me while we were together, while I wasted time on him? They certainly had no problem voicing their opinions after the fact.

Even if they had been honest, I probably wouldn't have listened. I had to learn the Brett lesson for myself, and boy, did I.

"I just think hearing him out is a good idea," he continued, "but he can wait until next week."

"My thoughts exactly."

I wasn't in a rush to help Brett. In fact, part of me enjoyed making him wait. He was the kind of guy who thought everyone should flock to him and do whatever he said whenever he said it.

Have you ever met someone with a god complex?

Well, that was Brett to a T.

"Don't forget your first showing is at ten," Noah reminded me, his finger tapping on the face of his watch.

"I'm leaving now," I said as I grabbed my bag.

"I'll be here," Noah said cheerily. He preferred a routine day in the office, while I preferred being out and about. Both of our roles properly suited us.

∞∞∞

My appointment that morning was with a very single male client. Seriously, he continuously reminded me that he was single. And I was a very uninterested real estate agent.

Unfortunately, I could not tell him that.

Most of my single male clients preferred penthouse suites and condominiums. They usually led travel-heavy lifestyles and looked to be spoiled while in their main home. They didn't want to have to worry about things like lawn maintenance.

I found the idea of having multiple homes exhausting.

How does one remember how to use everything at each home? There were wall-mounted televisions with Bluetooth soundbars, refrigerators with Wi-Fi capability, and voice-activated thermostats. Don't even get me started on the automated window blinds. I could only imagine the disorganization. Manuals would be scattered everywhere, and passwords would be forgotten. It sounded like a total nightmare.

"The chef's kitchen has commercial-grade Viking appliances," I told him. "Three ovens, two full-size sub-zero refrigerators, two sinks, and two dishwashers."

"Does it come with a chef?" he asked with a grin.

I awkwardly laughed at his attempt at a joke, "It should!"

"I have two chefs, so I think one of them will be able to venture this way," he bragged. "They prefer my Turks and Caicos home, and I can't blame them."

"Oh, how lovely!"

My clients would name-drop the locations of their other homes, but I had heard it all before. Even though it was typical for someone of his status to have multiple abodes, he seemed to bask in his wealth.

"Have you ever been?" he asked.

"I haven't!"

"The archipelago consists of eight major islands and dozens of small, uninhabited cays," he mansplained to me. "It's surrounded by the clearest and bluest water I have ever seen."

"Well, that sounds magical," I told him.

He leaned towards me, far closer than I was comfortable with.

"You should come visit sometime," he said.

"If I wasn't always working," I smiled, "I would!" I crossed my arms and stepped away from him to regain my personal space.

He took a bold step forward, his aftershave invading my nostrils. I took another step backwards, trying to create more distance between us.

"A woman like you shouldn't be working," he continued. "You should be lounging by a pool, in a tropical paradise, with a drink in your hand."

I wanted to say, ‘Sir, who asked for your opinion?' but I shut my mouth.

Nothing annoyed me more than an arrogant man sharing his unsolicited opinion. I wanted to defend myself, but I knew it was pointless. Instead, I shrugged casually, letting his words roll off my back.

"Thankfully, Charleston is our own little paradise!" I told him. "Would you like to see the porch area next?"

"I'd love to," he said.

I led him outside to the expansive porch. A gas fireplace was on the far, open end, and a bar area was to our immediate left.

"You can line this back wall with couches," I told him. "It would be so cozy out here!"

My client glanced around, "Could you see yourself out here?"

"I could see myself enjoying all the properties I show," I said.

"As long as you like it," he paused, "I'll take it."

My head bobbed up and down like a puppet on a string, but my stomach was in knots.

Another rushed decision.

"I'll let my assistant, Noah, know," I told him. "We probably won't be able to start moving things along until Monday."

"That"s perfect," he said. "I'm flying out this afternoon until Sunday, anyway. My friend is throwing an extravagant party."

"How fun! Well, let's get you out of here so you can make your flight."