Page 49 of Misadventures of a Biker

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “It is. That’s your own private beach. You own it.”

“Pahties on the beach,” he murmured, directing his comment to no one.

He gazed through the glass for some time, leaving us to wonder about his thoughts. Teddi and I shared a few awkward glances while Vinnie enjoyed the solace that only the ocean could provide. When he was satisfied, he turned to face us.

“Where’s the kitchen?” he asked.

“The kitchen is a chef’s dream,” Teddi said. “Subzero and Wolf appliances. The best of the best.”

We toured the kitchen, upstairs, each bedroom, and then walked to the beach. Standing barefoot in the sand, Vinnie faced the home. Fitted with wall-to-wall windows and balconies crafted of the finest stone, the home was breathtaking from the rear.

“Whattabout an offah?” he asked. “Where’s the home ownah on offahs?”

“Since the revisions,” I said, “we’ve got two parties interested at ask. There’s nothing solid on the table yet, but we’ve got—”

He gave me the same wild-eyed glare as when he was stomping Josh’s face in. “I fuckin’ told ya I wanted to be first one in this fuckin’ place, you fuckin’ gidrul.” He looked at Teddi. “What the fuck’s wrong with this guy, huh?”

“It wasn’t him,” Teddi replied, lying even more than me. “It was me. My apologies. I didn’t understand your sense of urgency.”

“You in chahge?” he asked. “You the ownah of the agency or whatever?”

“I am.”

“Whattabout occupancy? When could a person take occupancy?”

“The furniture isn’t the owner’s. The home is staged,” Teddi said. “Occupancy could be immediate. She and her husband have relocated to another local residence. Also, just to be clear, I’m the owner’s agent, not yours. I’m looking out for the owner’s best interest. Devin, on the other hand, is a neutral party.”

“Neutral or not,” I said, “it’s going to have to be an offer at or above asking price, or I’m—”

He thrust his arms in the air. “Do I look like a fuckin’ peasant? You think I’m a fuckin’ gidrul?”

“Not at all.”

He gazed at the back of the home for a moment. “I’ll think about.” He glanced at his watch. “Tell the puttana I’ll make an offah tomorrow.”

Spanish and Italian were similar in many respects. From my exposure to Hispanics, I knew the word puttana translated to whore. If he was calling Teddi a whore, he wouldn’t be buying the home.

He’d be buying a new set of teeth.

“Who are you talking about?” I asked, trying to squelch my anger. “The puttana?”

“The fuckin’ home ownah,” he replied. “Who else?”

A sense of relief washed over me. Regardless of who Vinnie was or what Teddi stood to gain from his purchase of the home, I couldn’t let him speak of her in such a manner. I’d lose my job—and my freedom—to protect her or her image.

“The earlier the better,” I said.

“I get up at four thirty,” he said. “What time you open?”

“I get there at nine,” I said.

He slapped me on the shoulder. “A domani.”

* * *

“I can’t take this,” Teddi said as she strode past my desk. “I’ve never been this nervous in my lifetime.” She passed in the other direction. “If he doesn’t buy the home, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“Whatever happens, happens,” I said. “If he walks in and sees you pacing the floor, he’s going to know he’s the only one interested and that we were bullshitting him yesterday. It’s just after nine. He’ll either call or show up soon, I’m sure of it.”