Lizzy Goes Brains Over Braun Read online

  Lizzy Goes Brains Over Braun

  Jasinda Wilder

  Copyright © 2021 by Jasinda Wilder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  A teaser…

  AUTUMN ROLLS A SEVEN

  Also by Jasinda Wilder

  1

  I was cruising through Malibu, on a hands-free call with the owners of a home I’d just finished showing to prospective buyers.

  “Tell me you have good news about the showing, Lizzy.” This was Gerry, the owner.

  “The best news. They’re offering eight-point-two-five, with a thirty-day close. Furnished.”

  A breath of relief. “You are pure magic, Lizzy Stephenson.”

  “I don’t know about that, Gerry, I’m just good at my job. It’s why you hired me after all.”

  “Is this a formal offer?”

  “I’m on the way to the office to write it up as we speak.”

  “I’ll be waiting for your email, then.” His relief and happiness at my news were palpable. They were mortgaged to the hilt, and this sale at this price was going to free up a lot of cash flow for them.

  “You should have it in half an hour or so.”

  We exchanged goodbyes, and I made it to my office. Pulled into my named, personal parking space behind my adorable little Malibu storefront office. Inside, there were six desks, a white leather couch, a coffee and tea station, several large TVs playing a sequence of nature stills. Four of the desks were occupied: Zoe, Autumn, Teddy, and Kat were all at their desks doing what I presumed was somewhere between working and perusing social media. Laurel had back-to-back showings today and was due back in an hour or so.

  Zoe and Autumn were sisters, separated by a little less than a year and a half, what some called Irish twins, and often were mistaken for identical twins. They looked up at me in unison.

  “Well?” Zoe asked.

  “Spill!” Autumn said, immediately afterward.

  Teddy was more laconic about her curiosity, leaning back in her chair, content to wait and listen, while Kat feigned disinterest, pretending to be just totally absorbed by her computer screen.

  I decided to draw it out. I sauntered in, purse hanging from my elbow, and fixed myself a cup of coffee. I took a ridiculously long time to add sweetener, nearly going grain by grain, and then almond milk drop by drop, and then stirring it with excessive care.

  “OHmyGOD!” Kat exploded. “Just tell us already! Did you sell it?”

  I held my mug in both hands, keeping my face straight for as long as I could. Which wasn’t long. “EIGHT-POINT-TWO-FIVE, BITCHES!”

  There were friendly groans from Kat and Teddy, with whom I had an on-going three-way competition, and squeals of delight from Autumn and Zoe.

  “You suck,” Kat muttered. “Just wait till I sell the Frasier place.”

  “There’s no way the Frasier house is going for anywhere close to eight-two-five, Kat,” I said, stopping to pat her on top of her head. “Sorry, babe, but if you get even a full eight, I’ll be surprised. Seven-nine-five is my guess.”

  She held up her middle finger without looking at me. “Sit on it, Lizzy.” She said it with a smirk, though. “Because guess what—I just listed Calder. It’s at nine-point-three, it’s been up for less than four hours, and I’ve already had a call to schedule a showing.”

  I snorted. “Nine-point-three is stupid for that. It’s got a shit view, it’s under six thousand square feet, and it’s got no wow. It’ll sit for six months and you’ll get seven.”

  She added another middle finger. “You just hate me. Admit it.”

  I mussed her long, glossy black hair as if she were an adorable toddler. Or something. I don’t know kids. “I don’t hate you. I just like to challenge you. That’s why I gave you the Calder house: to test your skills.”

  She batted at my hands, shot to her feet, and scurried to the ornate mirror on the wall. “Of course you know, this means war,” she said, fixing her hair strand by strand.

  Then, acting as casual as can be, she walked toward me, revenge in her eyes.

  “If you touch my hair, Katja Spears,” I said, backing away, “I swear I’ll give you all the worst listings for the rest of the year.”

  “Yeah, because you’re more of a priss about your hair than I am,” she said, still angling for me.

  I backed myself into a corner, and then picked up the first thing my hand found: a red Swingline stapler. “I’ll staple your face,” I snapped, “and then what will you do?”

  I was bluffing, though, and she knew it, because she advanced with a grin, hands up, clawed…lunged, and when I moved to block her, she faked one way and then the other, and then her hands shot through my defenses and pawed roughly at my hair.

  “Revenge is a bitch,” she said, satisfied, “and so am I.”

  I glared at her. “You’re not getting any listings over two, now, I hope you realize.” I moved to the mirror and attempted to return my blond hair to the artful waves and loose curls. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to get my hair to look like that?”

  Kat stuck her tongue out at me. “That’s because you have no volume, boo. You have to fake it.”

  “I have to write up this offer,” I said, waltzing to my desk, sitting with what I hoped was elegant grace.

  The desks of the other five girls were arranged around the room, all facing the center, and mine was against the storefront in the focus of the space, since I was the broker and I’d started the firm. Everyone had two chairs in front of their desks so clients could come and discuss options and sign paperwork as necessary, but my desk was just that much bigger and nicer, and the chairs in front of my desk were replica Louis XV chairs.

  By this point, with the show over, the other girls had gotten back to work. In short order, I had the offer written up and sent off to the Crenshaws to sign so I could then send it to Gerry and Leanne; I’d had the offer drawn up for days, having had an inkling that the Crenshaws would want this one. I just had to fill in the numbers. I was getting paid two ways on this deal, to boot—I was the buyer’s agent for the Crenshaws and the seller’s agent for Gerry and Leanne.

  Laurel breezed in, dressed to the nines as she always was, her naturally platinum blond hair in a tight chignon, Chanel purse hanging off her elbow, Louboutins clicking down the steps from the back entrance, her cell phone to her ear as she worked on closing a deal.

  “Murph, listen—no, Murph, it’s worth it. It is. I know it needs some reno, but that’s exactly what you said you wanted, not a fixer-upper, but something you could put your thumbprint on. The bones are there, you know they are. It’s exactly what you said you wanted—in the neighborhood you specified, in your price range—at the top, albeit—with good bones, a great view, and potential for upgrade…you’re waffling, Murphy…okay, well, you’re not going to find anything else in that specific area for anything less than six, trust me, I know. There are precisely three othe
r properties for sale in a ten-mile radius of the house I just showed you, and of them, only one is listed for under six million. And that one is a total gut-job. Like, complete gut, down to studs and subfloor, knocking out walls, replumbing, rewiring, new roof. It’s nearly a knock-down and rebuild, you’re just paying for the land, location, and view. If you want that neighborhood, Murph, that’s your house. I have another showing there tomorrow at noon, so you have until, say, ten tomorrow morning to put in an offer. I won’t cancel with those clients at the last minute, so get your shit in gear and give me a number.”

  Ballbuster, man. Granted, this guy Murphy was one of her oldest friends, and someone she’s sold at least one other property to that I know of. But still, she was a ballbuster.

  She was in the center of the room, listening, eyes closed, silently chewing on her lower lip. And then, her eyes flew open and she clenched her empty fist in victory, dancing in a circle.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice level and cool as a cucumber. “They’re asking five-point-two-five, but they haven’t had any offers yet, so you could go in at…five even, if you’re willing to go up closer to full asking. Okay, I’ll send it over. Give me five minutes. Okay, talk soon.” She ended the call, demurely placed her phone into her bag, and then began dancing a gleeful little jig, as well as she could in three-inch heels and a crazy tight miniskirt. “Boom, bitches. Top that.” She swept her pointer finger around the room.

  “Boss lady already did top it,” Zoe said without looking up from her computer. “Eight-point-two.”

  “Goddammit!” Laurel huffed, rolled her eyes. “You are such a chronic overachiever, you know that, Lizzy? Buzzkill.”

  We were often mistaken for sisters, though were weren’t—of a height, both with naturally platinum hair, similar bone structure, similar builds, and even our eyes were close in shade, hers grayish-blue while mine were a swirl of blue and green.

  “I’m the boss for a reason,” I said. “But good job. Let’s get these offers out, because I’m feeling like it’s wine-thirty.”

  “Isn’t it always?” Autumn asked.

  “No, not until the work is done.” I pointed at my computer. “I have to send this signed offer over to the sellers, and then we can tackle the rest tomorrow.”

  Laurel was already sitting down, filling out the necessary portions of the offer form. There was little talk for a good half an hour, then, as we all wrapped up our day’s work.

  I emailed both seller and buyer saying we’d sort out the rest of the process tomorrow, as long as everyone has signed the offer—I received the signed offer from the sellers, which meant we were pending.

  A few last odds and ends, and then I put my laptop to sleep, stuffed it into my messenger bag along with a few folders of important documents, and stood up.

  “Well, are we all ready?” I looked around at my girls. “I need a glass of wine.”

  We almost always met for a drink after work, so it was a foregone conclusion that everyone was in. Except…there was hesitation.

  I hadn’t wanted to point it out, because I’d wanted to think my five best friends in the world, my coworkers, employees, sisters from other misters…would remember that today was my birthday. My fortieth birthday, no less.

  All I really wanted was a glass of wine with my best bitches.

  And here they were trading meaningful glances as if referring to some conversation that hadn’t included me.

  “Am I missing something?” I asked.

  Kat approached me. “We’re not going for drinks tonight, Liz.”

  “We’re not?”

  She moved behind me. “Hold still.” Her hands grabbed my shoulders, holding me in place. “Nope. We’re kidnapping you.”

  “Why would you do that? You could just tell me what’s going on.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Before I could protest, she had a blindfold around my eyes and was tying it. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “How the hell should I know? You put a blindfold on me.” I snorted. “Knowing you, just one, your middle.” I felt a breath of air as someone moved in front of me. “I can’t see a thing, alright? For real.”

  “Good.” Kat turned me around. “Now, march. We’re going to the back door.”

  I knew where I was in the room and had more than once navigated the room in near pitch dark, so I headed confidently toward where I knew the back door to be—my toes found the steps, and I followed the handrail up, trailed my fingers along the exposed brick wall to the door, and then waited.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  I felt Kat move past me—I knew it was her by her perfume: Chanel. “Now…” she took my hand and led me outside. “We party.”

  I heard a diesel engine clattering. “Is that a party bus?”

  “Sure is.” I heard a noise that I thought might a bus door opening. “Hiya, Bill, you ready for this? Because we’re fixing to tear this town apart, baby. Up we go, Lizzy.”

  Step, step, step, and the noise of the engine was muted, and I felt leather seats on either side of me, and then Kat guided me to sit on a plush, deep, comfy leather seat.

  “Why do I have to be blindfolded for this? I don’t know where we’re going, so what difference does not being able to see make?”

  “Oh, no reason. We just thought it would be fun to blindfold you.” Kat was smirking—I could hear it. “Leave it on. It’s more fun.”

  “Fine.” I snorted. “But it’s dumb.”

  “You’re dumb.” She put a bottle into my hands. “Drink.”

  “From the bottle?”

  “Hell yes, from the bottle. You’re turning forty, bitch, we’re doing this up right. You didn’t think we forgot, did you?”

  “I was starting to wonder.”

  The rest of the girls were on the bus by now, filling it with overlapping chatter. I touched the bottle to my nose, sniffed—tequila.

  “Oh hell no!” I yelled, shoving it away. “You know what happened the last time I got tequila wasted. I’m not going there again.”

  “It was the funniest night of my life, is what happened,” Teddy said. “Drink up, boo. We’re getting you lit.”

  “Tequila wasted Lizzy is a walking disaster,” I said, feeling my resolve weakening. “Also, I haven’t eaten lunch or dinner. You better be ready to babysit me.”

  “We have the bus, and the driver, Bill, has been promised a hefty tip for being willing to help carry you into your house at the end of the night.”

  “I have work to do tomorrow,” I protested. “I can’t be out of commission.”

  “You’re under contract. You have no showings. Laurel got her offers in, so she’s pending as well. Yes, we turned off the lights, yes, we locked the door.” This was Autumn, on my left. “Just cut loose a little, Lizzy. We have a lot of fun planned.”

  “Are there strippers? There better not be strippers. The last male stripper you hired tried to get me to pay him to blow him.”

  “No, no strippers. We learned that lesson.” Zoe answered for the group on that one. “Also, I got an up close and personal look at what he was packing under that G-string, and let me tell you, I can see why he would charge for the honor. It was, like, whoa.”

  I took a tentative sip of the tequila—Patron, baby. Another, heftier swig. “Chaser, chaser, ohmygod, wow.” Somebody put a cold, sweating can into my hand, and I fumbled at the rim, checking to make sure it was open, and then took a long swig—light beer. “Are you trying to kill me? Tequila chased with beer on an empty stomach?”

  “We’re eating soon,” Autumn said, and then paused, I heard her swallow, hiss.

  “Also, Zoe, how exactly did you manage to see the stripper’s pee-pee?” I asked. “Did you pay him for it?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. “I, um. No. Maybe.”

  “You did! You paid him to suck him off!” I was shrieking already. Drunk Lizzy is loud—Tequila drunk Lizzy is deafening. And I’d barely had any.

  “I did not!” Zoe shri
eked back. “I paid him to get it hard and show me what it looked like. I didn’t touch him.”

  “Zoe, that’s mean.” Teddy, laughing. “You got him hard and then left him that way? Have you no mercy?”

  “Not when it was going to cost me twenty-five dollars, and besides, who knows if he was clean or how many diseases he had. No way. A random dude at a bar, maybe. A stripper slash prostitute? No way. I was just curious.”

  “He was big?” I asked, remembering how well the guy in question had filled out the tiny little red G-string.

  Zoe snickered. “Um, yeah. Huge. Biggest dick I’ve ever seen in real life.” She lowered her voice. “I honestly don’t know if I would have slept with him, if he was a guy I’d just randomly hooked up with. There is such a thing as too big. He’d have ripped me in half from stem to stern. And there was no way I could have gotten my jaw around that monster. No way.”

  “Bullshit!” I heard Teddy say. “I don’t think dicks that big exist.”

  “I actually have a pic of it,” Zoe said, sounding embarrassed. “I paid five dollars extra for him to let me take a picture. For, umm, research purposes.”

  “And by research you mean diddling your bean?” Kat asked.

  “No!” Zoe shrieked, at a glass-shattering pitch and volume.

  “Admit it!” Autumn said. “You use it to jill off. You know it, I know it, we all know it.”

  “More to the point, show us the photo!” This was Teddy again.

  “No! It’s private,” Zoe said, sounding prim. “He made me promise I wouldn’t spread it around.”

  “Zoe, shut the hell up and show us the photo. You’re not posting it on the internet, you dumb bitch, you’re showing your sister and best friends.” This was Autumn.

  “Fine!” Zoe sighed.