The Divorcee Murder Club

Sesenta Y Ocho ~ 68

                   It's been a couple of days since I got my ass beat, and although I still feel like hell, and my entire body is stiff while simultaneously feeling like a giant soft bruise, I'm in a better mood.

And so is Angie.

She put up a good front when the news came in that changes were being made to her conservatorship. However, there was a sneaky little smile on her face when her phone blew up with Jeremiah's calls and livid texts. That asshole won't have power over her for much longer, and next month when they have a court hearing to release her from his guardianship, she'll finally be free, and he can't do shit about it.

"This room is considered a den, but it has doors, so it can easily be used as a third bedroom instead of an office," the realtor says as we follow her inside the small room.

My beloved isn't impressed as she chews her lip, holding back whatever colorful objection she has. I clear my throat and come to her defense so she doesn't have to

"This won't work for Ana," I tell the realtor. "I told you we need two or three bedrooms, not one and a den."

"This room is plenty big for a child," the realtor says, motioning around the small space.

"Ana isn't a child. She's Angie's adult sister."

"Well, I'm afraid what you've requested might be outside your budget on this side of town."

"Excuse me?" Angie scoffs at the audacity.

"Listen, lady. I don't know if you heard Augusta correctly when she hired you for me, but..." I draw out my wallet and fish for the wad of hundreds inside. "We don't have a budget."

"But your girlfriend said—"

"Angie was being modest about what kind of accommodations we would like," I cut her off. "So I need you to up your game and show us the nice condos instead of whatever this is."

"I'll... need a moment to look up some listings."

"Good. Do that." I turn away to drape my arm around Angie and kiss her head.

One thing I've learned from Augusta is that when you've got money, you have to force people to put respect on your name by treating them like shit. Otherwise, they'll walk all over you. So you have to show them that they are the ones beneath you. It's something I'm only used to doing at Penthouse when I need to put some dickhead in his place. So, it's an adjustment to my day-to-day.

The realtor returns after a few minutes and tells us she has a new location. So, we exit the apartment and head over. It's a short drive down a few blocks, and then we're in front of another condo with a bay view.

"What? What is it?" I ask Angie as she stares at it.

"I don't know. It just looks so industrial around here. Where are Ana and I supposed to go for walks to get coffee?"

The realtor opens the large glass door with a smile. "Wait until you see inside. There are three shared entertainment spaces you can use as part of the lease agreement."

The elevator takes us almost to the top floor, which is slightly disappointing because I would have preferred the penthouse, but I guess this will do. We enter, and my eyes widen, and I marvel at the vast windows overlooking the bay. The living room is large, with cement floors and an open kitchen that any chef would die for. The realtor is blabbering on about the architecture and motions to the spiral staircase that leads to a loft with a railing that overlooks the living room. I can already picture Angie using it for whatever hobbies she wants to pick up, like knitting or some shit.