Miami After Hours(3)

By: Yahrah St. John

Angela moved in for the kill. “As you know, this neighborhood is considered the crème de la crème by Miami magazine.” She knew Mrs. Harrison was one of those women who cared about social standing among her peers. “And with the amenities like the twenty-four-hour concierge, gourmet market and state-of-the-art fitness center, you won’t find a place quite like this. Come, look at the view,” she said, motioning the couple toward the terrace so they could once again admire the panorama of Miami Beach.

“Give us a few minutes, Angela,” Mr. Harrison said.

Angela nodded and quietly left the terrace to give the couple privacy. With any luck, they’d agree to purchase the penthouse. Her stomach was in knots just thinking about the fifty-thousand-dollar commission that awaited her if the couple accepted the asking price.

She’d never sold a property as expensive as this one. With her earnings from this commission, she would be close enough to the amount she needed to buy her own luxury condo in a new building in Brickell near downtown. Meanwhile she was living modestly in a one-bedroom apartment in Coconut Grove.

The Brickell developer was known for its luxury appointments including gourmet kitchens and sumptuous master baths. Angela couldn’t wait to be the proud owner of one of the condos, which was what had prompted her move to Cobb. She’d known that selling $500,000 homes to middle-class clientele at the larger real estate firm where she’d worked for nearly three years wasn’t going to get her there. She needed the big commissions that she pulled down with Cobb Luxury Real Estate, and now she was finally moving in the right direction.

Of course she had to dress the part and had to upgrade her wardrobe to ensure that Daniel Cobb would take notice and consider her a good fit for his firm. He’d personally handpicked every agent who sold for him, and Angela had considered herself lucky when he’d agreed to hire her. He’d told her she needed some grooming and had vowed to take her under his wing. In the interim, Angela was trying her best to fit in.

Everyone in the office wore designer clothes, and Angela could be no different. She’d taken a portion from her savings and gotten a complete makeover. Her usual brown hair had been stylishly cut by a top hairstylist in Miami and highlighted with honey-blond streaks. She’d gotten a makeup lesson from an artist who worked on the rich and famous, and now Angela knew how to artfully do her makeup to make it appear as if she were barely wearing any.

Changing her clothes was easy, because Angela always had a love for fashion. She’d just had to raise the bar. And she had. She’d raided several designer boutiques until she now had a stylish array of suits, dresses, skirts and tops that bespoke her new role as a luxury real estate agent.

Today, to impress Mrs. Harrison, who would recognize a designer outfit a hundred feet away, Angela was wearing the latest Marc Jacobs dress along with a pair of Gucci sandals that had come on the market a month ago. The entire outfit had cost Angela a substantial chunk, but it would be worth it if she made this deal.

Suddenly the doors to the terrace slid open and the Harrisons walked in.

“Have you made a decision?”

“We’ll take it,” Mr. Harrison replied.

And just like that, all of Angela’s dreams for her future started to come true.

* * *

Daniel watched Angela Trainor drift past his line of vision. New to his office, she was under his tutelage and coming along rather nicely. He’d handed a plum client like the Harrisons over to her with faith that she could seal the deal. He hoped he hadn’t missed the mark.

Angela knocked on his door even though it was open and poked her head inside. “Are you busy? If so, I can come back another time.”

“No, c’mon in.” He motioned her forward.

As she approached, Daniel couldn’t help but admit she was a fine-looking woman, but then again he only hired the best. He had an image to protect. That’s not to say that he couldn’t appreciate a thing of beauty from a distance. And he certainly appreciated Angela.

She wore an elegant sheath that hugged all her curves, and her shoes were high enough to do wonders for her long, toned legs. Then there were her smooth tawny-colored skin, honey-blond hair that looked like it had been kissed by the sun and those lips that had Daniel thinking thoughts he shouldn’t.

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