Page 6 of Devil’s Disciples

“Why are you speaking?” he asked. “Right now?”

“Because you’re not one hundred percent convinced you want to let me leave.”

“What makes you think that?”

I gestured toward his desk. “You’ve got three piles of resumés on your desk. I’m guessing one is the people you’ve interviewed. One is applicants. The other is the pool of interviewees you’ll be picking from. You’ve got no less than ten resumés in each pile. Yet, you’re still talking to me. Furthermore, my resumé isn’t in a pile. It’s at the edge of your desk. Apparently, you haven’t decided what to do with me yet.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “What’s your favorite cuss word?”

“Cocksucker,” I responded dryly.

He choked on his laugh. “Type of whiskey?”

“Single malt scotch. Macallan. Neat.”

He sighed lightly. It was apparent he was entertained. Nonetheless, he pushed the dagger in a little deeper. “You lack experience, Miss Winslow.”

“You called me in for an interview despite that lack of experience. Because you thought I was a man. Right now, I think the idea of hiring a woman for the position intrigues you. You’re hoping to come up with something to convince you it’s a bad idea, but so far, you haven’t.”

“I’m impressed by your ability to ad lib and fascinated by your intellect, Andy. I’m simply afraid your lack of experience is enough--”

“I Googled you before I came. Your properties are on J Street and Westside Drive. What do they rent for? Three grand a month? Four?”

His face washed with pride. He lifted his chin slightly. “The building on J Street is primarily office space. The average rent is around ten grand. Between three and five for the living spaces on Westside, depending on square footage. Why?”

“They’re not filled with roaches, and the air conditioner isn’t on the way out. Your properties are immaculate, I saw the pictures on your website. There’ll be problems, sure, but not of the variety we’ve discussed. You need a dynamic leader with strong business, marketing and management sense. That’s what your ad said. I graduated Magna Cum Laude from USC. There’ll be a senior property manager above me. I’d act as the buffer between him and the contractors, suppliers, and tenants. No one will manage your money better than me, Mister Greene. Nobody.”

“I like you,” he said with a smile. “It’s hard not to. Now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ll touch base on something you said earlier. That one regret I spoke of? I’ll tell you what it is. After spending the majority of my adult life single, I married a woman who was considerably younger than me. She spent money as if it grew on trees. Damned near drove me into bankruptcy before I realized what was happening. Right or wrong, I simply don’t trust women with my money. I have my doubts you’ll be frugal.”

Acting indifferent to his remark, I walked past his desk and gazed down at the street. The bicycle I’d resorted to use as transportation – because my car was repossessed – was chained to the corner lamppost. At the curb in front of it, someone’s spotless red Ferrari caught my attention.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Come here for a minute.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to see something.”

I gestured to the lamppost at the corner of the street. “See that bicycle chained to that post?”

He peered over my shoulder. “The one with the basket on it?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about it?”

“That’s my transportation. My only transportation.” I pulled a Think Thin protein bar from my purse and turned to face him. “And, this is lunch. Frugality is my middle name.”

The look of uncertainty that he’d been wearing diminished. It hadn’t vanished, but it was close. He was considering me. All I needed to do was push him over the edge of the indecisive cliff he was standing on.

“If you hire me right now, I’ll make you an offer,” I said. “But it’s only good if you take it before I walk out of here. Your ad said the position paid eighty-five thousand a year. I’ll take it for seventy thousand for the first year. At the beginning of year two, either fire me, or bring my wages in line with what they would have been if you paid me the eighty-five.”

“That’s an interesting offer.”

I turned toward the door. It was a huge risk, but I began walking, nonetheless. “You’ve got about ten seconds to decide on whether a twelve hundred and fifty dollar a month savings is attractive to you or not.”

Without looking back, I took one predictable step after the other. Six feet before I reached the hallway, he stopped me.

“You’re hired,” he announced.