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The apartment was at the end of the hall, after five other doors. I unlocked it and pushed open the heavy wooden door, only to be hit by a stench that immediately took me back to the worst college bars at the end of a long night. My nose wrinkled at the same time as Milton’s, and I cursed under my breath. I should’ve insisted on checking the place before bringing him up here.
The floor, tables, and counters were a disaster zone—empty bottles, chip bags, pizza boxes, and the unmistakable remnants of drug paraphernalia were strewn everywhere. The stench of stale alcohol and sweat hung thick in the air.
And then there were the bodies. Several half-naked figures were sprawled out on the thick multi-colored carpet, some mercifully covered with sheets or blankets. One bleary-eyed man looked up at me, his gaze glazed and unfocused.
“Well, this is unexpected,” I said, forcing a calmness I didn’t feel.
Milton stared, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke,” I replied, my mind racing for a way to salvage the situation. “But let’s look at the bright side—this just means the place is popular. And once it’s cleaned up, you’ll have a blank slate to make it your own.”
I could tell Milton wasn’t convinced, but I had to keep him focused on the potential. This was just another challenge in the game, and I wasn’t about to let a few hungover squatters ruin my sale. A half-naked guy with thinning hair woke and fixed his gaze on me.
“You bring breakfast?” the man asked, belching loudly enough to make me wince.
I shot him a glare. “I’m not a delivery man.”
“Then what the hell are you here for? Party was last night.”
I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I shoved Milton back out the door and slammed it shut behind me, the echo reverberating in the hallway. My head started to pound, frustration boiling over.
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” I muttered, more to myself than to Milton, though the outrage was clear in my voice.
“Obviously, this is not the place for me,” Milton said, his tone flat and unamused.
“I think not,” I agreed, trying to keep my composure, but the embarrassment was making my skin prickle.
“You know I took time off work for this,” Milton added, a slight edge in his voice that made me want to grit my teeth.
“And I can’t apologize enough,” I said, stepping into the elevator with him. The doors closed, sealing us in what felt like a tight, suffocating space.
“Perhaps I should find myself a new agent,” he said, his voice dripping with displeasure.
I scratched at my chin, trying to keep my annoyance in check. It wasn’t my fault, yet here I was, taking the heat for this mess. “This was none of my doing. The seller’s agent assured me no one would be home.”
Milton didn’t seem convinced. “I have time. What else can you show me?”
I took a deep breath, weighing my options. The last thing I needed was to lose a client over something so ridiculous. “Give me a second,” I said, pulling out my phone as soon as we stepped into the lobby.
I scrolled through my listings, searching for something vacant, something that wouldn’t require me to jump through hoops to set up. After what felt like an eternity, I found a place just six blocks away—close enough to salvage this disaster.
“I’ve got something,” I said, looking up at Milton. “It’s only a short walk from here, and I can guarantee you it’ll be worth your time.”
He nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. “Let’s hope so.”
As we stepped outside, I pulled my coat tighter around me, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down. I wasn’t about to let a setback like this ruin my reputation. Milton might not see it yet, but he was in good hands. And I’d make damn sure he knew it by the end of the day.
"Recently renovated, a doorman,” I began, my tone smooth and confident. “And you're right across from Central Park.”
I watched Milton as he moved through the loft. The space was open, airy, with high ceilings and a brand new kitchen. The kind of place that could impress just about anyone. He ran his fingers over the almond-colored granite countertop, pausing to rub his thumb against it. The place was a bit dusty, sure, but it was move-in ready. I gave him room to explore, checking my emails while he wandered.
“This would be perfect for some great parties,” he said, gazing out the window that offered a prime view of the park.
“Yes, you could,” I echoed, lowering my phone. “I’m sure the ladies would love this place.”
He turned slightly, blushing. “I wouldn’t be bringing ladies here, just one special lady.”
That caught me off guard. Milton didn’t exactly strike me as a ladies’ man. I raised an eyebrow, trying to hide my surprise. “Then your girlfriend would love this loft.”
