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Get Into It...

“And that's 1.5 listings in The Bronx.”

“The 1.5 ,“ I asked for clarity.

“1.5 million, Ms. Wright.  It boasts a full on window, with few partitions that lead to the fully enclosed backyard.  There’s a hot tub, a barbecue pit and--“

“Wait… in The Bronx?”

“Yes, in The Bronx,” Mrs. Rosen emphasized.  “We have multiple good, spacious properties in that area.  Properties with a lot of amenities.”

   Before I could further protest, as I wasn’t interested in anything spacious, amenity-laden or good anything – in The Bronx, she loudly pulled open a drawer and placed a manila file on her oak desk; a desk that I gathered I could lay across, length wise, comfortably.

   I kind of wished she would step out for water, to take a bathroom break or whatever – So I could try.It’s the kid in me, I supposed, sitting in a daze.

“ahem,” she breathed, reminding me that time is money; hers to gain, mine to spend. 

I was again on alert, as all of the properties she had shown me in the past hour or so would be no less than one million dolars, pre-tax.  I needed to focus.

“Your mom stated that you wanted one to two bedrooms, with an outdoor space - in the form of a garden, floor to ceiling windows and at least 1,000 square feet,“ she consulted her paperwork again, before closing the file, then looking at me, eyebrow raised for contradictions.

   I opted not to give her one, instead I challenged her:

“Do any properties in Manhattan meet those requirements?”

“Yes, but those will be on the mid-range of our listing range.”

    She looked at me as if to emphasize something.  I didn’t get it, so she carried on:

“That’s like between 3-30 million dollars to purchase, and then the carrying charges are quite substantial.  I’m sure your mother would prefer something not so ‘heavy’ on a month-to-month basis.  So let's just start with this condo in River--“

   At this point I had to shut her down.  She was running full speed in the wrong direction - North.  And that wasn’t where I was going.  I despise when anyone, White, Black, Purple or anything - but especially White people - because historically those are the ones who do it condescendingly, while Black people do it smugly - try to dominate areas they didn't originate.  So I never hesitate to shut them down quicker.

   In this instance, I recognized that I might still need her help, so I had to be firm, but effective and polite - if possible:

“Let's focus on the client's needs: the client needs all of those things my mother listed - of course, but this client (at this point I had to restrain myself from pointing at myself, since her condescending ass was acting like she was the client and most aware of what I could and could not afford) wants to focus on Manhattan properties - in whatever range you offer them; outdoor space, 1000 square feet, a security system, secured parking and preferably a condo or co-op situation versus a house.”  

   She looked like she had something to say, but she had spent a lot of the past hour talking and my food wasn’t here yet.  I figured, 'l'll let her talk when my mouth has something else to do.' That wasn’t now:

“It needs to be available/‘occupancy ready’ within the next month or three.  Anything offered outside of the three month range, I can offer a monetary incentive for the people to make way for me – a little sooner.” 

   She was frowning and typing a little quickly on the computer.  I figured she didn’t like how I wrested control of our meeting, but as my boss- Banks-  had a way of saying “too bad, my money – my way.”  And if she deviated, none of my money would be her money.

   She printed out two sheets of paper, with four listings on each; all for purchase: the cheapest was 3 million and I only had one million in cash stashed in my closet.  I needed to think, so I folded it up, for later review.  I would figure it out on the way to see Banks.  Up until now, I wasn’t sure, but I needed a new place - somewhere different.  Something bigger to make me feel better about all this bullshit that had transpired.  Something to help me remember that I was a wolf, not a sheep.  Lanessa walked in with my full order, just as I was heading out the door.

“We have a conference room where you can sit, eat and possibly review the listings I gave you.  Maybe we can even make an offer on one of them today: the early bird gets the worm you know,” said Mrs. Rosen with a giggle.  I could hear the nerves in her laugh.  She needed a bit more time, maybe she would give me more listings meeting my expectation.

She had to know that wasn’t happening.  Not today.

“I’ll be in touch.”  I slipped the bag loops from Lanessa’s hands onto mine.

“I’ll help Ms. Wright get the bags to her car, Ms. Rosen.”

Lanessa opened both sets of doors for me.

“I took a cab,” I explained before she asked.

“Well, let me hail you another,” she said, stepping into the road to do so.  She opened the door, but before closing it behind me –handed me a card before skipping back into the building.

It had her name on the front, with a personal note on the back:

“I read your file and I think I can help you find something more to your liking than anything on the printout.  Give me a call around 8pm to discuss.” 

   I was looking to move on, and in a hurry – so I had to keep all my options open, and she seemed hungry enough to find me what I needed, with the same resources as Mrs. Rosen and possibly willing to take a lower commission - so I guess she considers herself an opened option.  I’d hit her up later to let her know formally; she had just better not mention anything in The Bronx…

Reviewing the listings given to me, moments earlier, by Mrs. Rosen-I fixated on the 1 bedroom condo on the Upper East Side of NYC: 

   It boasted two balconies and took up the entire top floor of a carriage house. There was a parking package that would allow me to park my car at various locations throughout the city, including the one in the basement of my building. However, in addition to the 700.00 maintenance and whatever the mortgage on a 6 million dollar property would be, this would add 450.00 to that bills. A bill that was already high as fuck, even if it took care of the grounds, security, electricity, doorman, security , gas and garbage services. 

   Since 'Meze wasn’t here to talk me down from this incredible high, sponsored by possibility, that would have me spending an insane amount of money on something I didn’t need, I did it for myself. “look at this shit , it doesn’t even have an elevator!” , I said aloud-causing the taxi driver to glance at me warily through the bullet proof slot. I didn’t care, with all the worrying youngish women had to do about taxi drivers in this city-it was about damn time one worried about what I might do to him. I continued:

“I am not moving from my 1,100 dollar apartment to pay astronomically more  and not get an elevator in return. They want me to pay over 3k a month to drag groceries up-now- 7 flights of stairs! Fuck that…nope. Not going to happen”

   I took my ‘bic’ marker and made a line through the listing. At first, I neatly crossed it out, but then deciding it might be best if this wasn’t legible, I scribbled manically all over it. “I can’t afford it!”, I stated with a finality. “I know I can’t afford to do what it would cost me to take advantage of this opportunity”, I stated, with even more finality. I wasn’t sure what price my soul cost, but I hoped I wouldn’t undersell at 6 million , despite my need for superior security, to discourage all 'hand laying, punk bitch niggas', one in particular, from trying me . Also to offset the risk of someone figuring that as a female street pharmacist, I might be an easy, good mark. Considering all of the cash I kept on hand, currently wedged in the space between my closet wall, and that of my neighbor-they could get lucky. 

   ‘I can find the security of this spot at a cheaper rate’,  I told myself, as I skimmed the other listings. Up until two months ago, when Banks put me on a temporary, or permanent freeze from my duties , I had moved a half a mil of product, at most, monthly. I never really held more than one hundred thousand on me at any given time. With the new goal I was setting, I would need to get in a lot deeper, sell a whole lot more and secure a commission higher than the thirty percent Banks  was currently offering me. That is, if he let me back in.

   I had to think positive. This type of money could clean all of my money, make me untraceable- legitimate even. Considering almost all of my money was off the books, I really had no business writing a check for upward of 2 million dollars or better, not unless I wanted the attention of semblance of the alphabet boys (the fbi, fema, irs, whomever) . That was most certainly not what I wanted; Banks would most certainly wash his hands of me then-easily. I could only hope that it would be a figurative washing, which would leave me at the mercy of the justice system vs him literally bathing in my blood.

    I couldn’t allow myself to have that problem. If only Chimeze were still in the picture. He could write this check, and I could put the money behind it, and no would be the wiser. But, he isn’t in the picture. “Move on”, I reminded myself. I had a lot of stuff to think about and just like his presence didn’t make me safer, neither would the memories. I had to make a way for this to happen. I was literally on the run, the running had to stop. “this is going to happen”, I told myself. I had gotten plenty of shit done without Chimeze-before Chimeze even. I couldn’t even think of a solid thing he had helped me get, a place he had helped me go; not a thing/ place I couldn’t have gotten/ gone for myself.

   Fuck him,  I didn’t need his help! If anything, he would have been a hindrance. Always asking questions, never trusting me, causing problems he couldn’t solve and draining my life with his angry energy. There had to be another way. There was another way. I just needed to stay calm, breath and think my way too it. “This is a roadblock, not a dead end”, I reminded myself. Besides to hear Chimeze tell it,back when I made the mistake of bothering to see what he was telling people; ‘ he made me.’ However, it would seem the only thing he was good at telling these days , were online lies, designed to gain the empathy of his loosely attached (baby daddy bound) female friends and the ones who couldn’t get anyone decent, so they worshipped him –in all his deficiency. Whatever, ‘clearly, all of that love was wasted-like 'henny' on a cemetery stone…unappreciated, unseen, un-reciprocated. ‘

I tried to refocus on the list..it's been about a  year now; I really need to focus on what really matters -in this moment, like bstaying alive...

   At that moment the taxi careened around a corner. Honestly, I was starting to feel like I was in an airplane, the turbulence was untenable. “I just cant”, I thought to myself, before banging on the taxi drivers window-hoping to get his attention, even though it seemed to all be occupied by whomever he was chatting with on the phone. Finally, the man looked back at me .

“WTF!” , I mouthed , staring aggressively, through what I supposed was a bullet proof glass partition …

 “I’m a driver. I don’t pave the roads, I just drive on them…”, he offered –offhand.”

I reminded myself to be just as dismissive when the screen brought up the screen regarding the tip.

Again I focused on the list again, and circled five properties that interested me-none of which were located in the Bronx. I grasped and fumbled in my purse, for my phone. When I got a grip on it, I scrolled down to Mrs. Rosen’s number and hit call-only to be immediately forwarded to voicemail. I pressed 6 to get to the part where I got to speak:

“Hello Mrs. Rosen. This is Ryndra Wright. I reviewed the listings-from earlier.”

I named the listing numbers I was interested in by letter.; In order of priority that should be taken when showing me them.

“Please give me a call back at 817-654-7896   to let me know your availability for the showing of all five between today and tomorrow. Thank you.”

‘Beep, Beep , beep’ , I heard the sound indicating that my time was up. It was fine, I had saidf all that needed saying-to her anyway. Next, typed a text to the number on the back of Lanessa’s card:

“Shoot me an email at R.Wright@Liv.com, if you have any listing you think may interest me. I am willing to pay a 6% commission-in cash. Let me know.”

Almost immediately, I received a surprisingly hood reply from Lanessa:

“BET….check your email in five.”

I was doing this. It was a good as done. Fuck the expense. I would put my 'big girl panties ' on and get this money.; whatever it took.

I smiled at my resolve, as this usually meant things would be just fine.

    Now , all I had to do was get through my next meeting with Tone, so I could get on with the rest of my life. I glanced in my bag, thinking I might change from my suit, into something more comfortable-for running away; should it come to that. However, I was thinking the suit might convey exactly what I was interested in communicating –even at this meeting. I switched out my ‘Cole Haans” for  my Nike Air Huarache ‘s, and tucked my my blade in between my panties and the band of the skirt-just in case …

Then I swiped the card, leaving no tip-and I know the driver noticed, because he sucked his teeth as stepped onto the curb and strode by the passenger side window, ignoring his passive aggressive query:

“do you want your receipt!”

                                                                        MOOD