Something New | Discontinued

[ 8 ] We Are Never Speaking of This Again

© 2018 Shay Spencer. All rights reserved.

Something New

[ Chapter 8 ] We Are Never Speaking of This Again

. . . . .

Scarlett

1 Year, 1 Month

. . . . .

Working with my father had helped me to realize something about myself; I hated people.

"Scarlett, we need this to be perfect, and that right there, is not perfect." My father scolded in a manner than reminded me all too much of my mother. "We need to move the flyers to the countertop in the kitchen, not right next to the appetizers, but close enough that it will draw people in. Furthermore, we need to plug in a scent diffuser behind each of the beds, make people think that it always smells like it. Not like farm animals, which is strange because there isn't a farm anywhere within a five mile radius."

There were times when I wondered just what had sparked a relationship between the two, and then there were times like this. The two still held one another's traits from time to time, even my mother found herself rambling just the way that my father did to this day.

A match previously made in heaven.

Instead of responding, saying something that I knew would keep him talking, I took it upon myself to readjust the flyers just the way he liked them.

Simon Cavalry was the face of real estate in downtown Dallas at the moment. He had worked nearly ten years getting to this place, and honestly, he couldn't have been more in his element. The way he commanded a room, 'networked' with every other agent in the connecting areas, and even the thoughtfulness he added to each conversation he had during these stupid open house; it was what made him good at this.

Sadly enough, I sucked at this. Don't get me wrong, my father was practically breaking his back trying to get me to find my place around here, but it wasn't working. I didn't feel anymore like I belonged here than I had in Beverly Hills.

"Alright," my father called. "Show time."

I could hear the anxious tapping of his fingertips against his wrist watch from across the room before he pulled the door open for the masses. It seemed anyone who was anyone, and anyone who was no one for that matter, was here to see the latest listing from Cavalry and Co.

"Welcome," I plastered on a smile. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"No dear," a woman around my father's age responded. "But I will take a flyer."

"Help yourself," I quickly handed one to her. "Let me know if you need anything."

The world continued to spin out of control as the occupancy of the room doubled over it's limit. There were people scurrying about every room, leaving footprints and specs of dirt in their wake on the white tile and matching carpet. With every smile I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper into my bad mood.

For some reason, today of all days, I wasn't having it.

With a quick excuse I now couldn't recall, I flew out the backdoor. The potentials buyers seemed to be unfazed by my sudden departure as they continued to sip their champagne and snack on their crackers. Within seconds of my leaving my father had taken control of the room, clapping his hands together and bringing his cohorts to a silence in record time.