In the evenings, I turned to a Manhattan to keep me relaxed and in the zone, but in the mornings? It was all about the coffee. So I turned on my strappy Louboutin heel and walked into the coffee shop behind me. As soon as I passed through the door, I was wrapped in a wave of ice-cold air conditioning and I knew I’d made the right choice. I stepped up to the counter and smiled at the barista, a young girl with cropped blonde hair and what had to be a permanent Florida tan. I definitely envied her that—it was always a joke I made to my clients that they had to just take my word for the fact that I knew my yachts well, because with my pale skin it was probably a little hard to believe I’d ever spent much time in the sun. Still, I thought my creamy skin contrasted quite nicely with my long, sleek, dark brown hair and light green eyes. Jeff, my brother, always poked fun at me for it. He inherited our father’s golden tan and dirty blond hair, so he looked like the poster boy for yachting, whereas I looked more like someone who worked in an office somewhere and rarely saw the light of day. He was forever teasing me, prodding me to go get a spray tan or something. But that wasn’t me. I knew who I was and I was comfortable this way. As far as I was concerned, there was no need to change.
Still, sometimes I wished I had that natural glow, too.
“Hello. Welcome to the Java Jetty Café,” chirped the peppy barista. “What can I get started for you today?”
“Hi, yeah, I’m going to need an iced coffee with a double shot of espresso,” I said.
“Any special flavor? We have mocha, caramel, white chocolate, gingerbread, pumpkin spice, and raspberry,” she rattled off, her smile never wavering. I almost laughed.
“Gingerbread? Really?” I asked, amused.
She nodded cheerfully. “It’s seasonal for autumn,” she explained.
I glanced back out at the blazing sunshine, the sparkling blue waters of the harbor visible through the wide window. “Doesn’t quite feel like autumn here to me,” I said, getting out my wallet. “Must be pushing eighty-five out there.”
The barista shrugged. “It’s Fort Lauderdale. We don’t really get much of a fall. Or a winter. But the gingerbread flavor really is good if you want to try it.”
I grinned. “Sure. Let’s do gingerbread.”
“What size would you like?”
I handed her my credit card and answered, “The largest size you have.”
Once I had ordered my massive cup of iced coffee, I found a table by the big window and set up shop. I took out my tablet, my phone, and my notes on the seller I was supposed to meet in about an hour or so. I started scanning the bullet points I’d made a couple days back, taking down information from my brother about his specific preferences in regards to the yacht. He was, like our father before him, a shockingly picky guy for someone who could look at home on someone’s back deck grilling hotdogs and hamburgers.
Jeff was a chameleon of sorts. He could look equally comfortable relaxing with a beer in his hand or seated at a table in the fanciest restaurant surrounded by billionaire businessmen. I wasn’t quite that flexible. My job was stressful, with long, weird hours and constant travel. I technically lived in Atlanta, Georgia, but I was on the road so often that it hardly felt like home when I was there. My apartment was sparse, decorated nicely but without a lot of personal character. Don’t get me wrong, I thrived on the stress of dealing in such a high-stakes market, but sometimes it did wear on me. I rarely slept more than a few hours a night, and bouncing from city to city made it pretty impossible to make and maintain a lot of friendships.
And a romantic relationship? Well, that was pretty much off the table altogether.
Just then, my phone rang. A FaceTime call. I quickly answered, “Yes?”
“Jilly!” exclaimed my older brother. He was grinning. I sighed.
“Hey, Jeff. What’s up?”
“Just calling to check in on how the deal is going,” he said.
He sounded out of breath, panting a little. There were trees behind him, the cry of seagulls in the background. I told him, “I haven’t even gotten to meet the guy yet. Be patient. Are you running or something?”
“Jogging. Gotta stay in shape. I thought the meeting was at ten,” he said, moving the phone to show his running outfit. He was all sweaty. I grimaced.
“Yeah. It’s nine-thirty. You’re in Monaco, still, right? So you’re in a different time zone,” I explained to him, rolling my eyes. “I’ll call you as soon as the meeting is done, okay?”
“Can we just go over the notes one more time really quickly?” he asked.
I groaned. “I need to prep for the meeting right now. I don’t have time.”
“Come on, I just want to make sure all the details are right.”
“I got it. All the info is correct. You just have to leave me alone and let me handle it. I have an MBA. I have experience. I know what I’m doing here, Jeff. Chill,” I told him.
“What if the guy is a jerk? What’s his name again?” he pestered me.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said slowly, “The owner’s name is blank. I don’t know who it is. But whoever he is, I can handle him.”
“As long as you don’t let him handle you,” Jeff said pointedly. I frowned at him and he shrugged. “You know how some of these guys can be. They’re used to getting whatever they want, including whoever they want.”
“I’ll be just fine, thanks,” I said, a little snippy. He gave me an apologetic smile.