Optical Delusions in Deadwood Read Free

squandering every month?” His chair squeaked as he leaned forward, his nostrils flaring as he huffed his point. “That Millie could work if she wanted to—not in the public eye, mind you, not with those glasses. Unless the goal is to scare away customers. But she could make an honest living just like the rest of us taxpayers instead of leeching off the system. She’s not even fifty yet.”

          “You call what you do honest?” I faked a laugh. Ray was the King of Schmooze. He had a Ph.D. in exaggeration with a master’s degree in bullshit.

          “At least I’m making this place money, Blondie. How many sales do you have on the Sales Pending board?” He pointed at the white board that Jane, our left-brained, list-happy boss, used to keep track of upcoming sales.

          I lifted my chin. “One.” It was my first and only, and I was damned proud of it.

          “Oh, is that an actual mark? I thought Jane just slipped with the marker when adding my eleventh sale last month.”

          “You can shove your eleven sales up your—”

          “What’s your point with all of this, Ray?” Mona’s crimson lips were pressed thin, her cheeks a shade pinker than usual. “Or are you just being rude to pass time?”

          Ray leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, kicking his Tony Lama boots up onto his desktop. His icy blue eyes locked onto mine. “I don’t want a Calamity Jane Realty sign sitting in Wanda Carhart’s front yard. It would be a black mark on the reputation that I’ve worked damned hard to build for this office.”

          My neck bristled. Of all the elitist, arrogant, pompous—

          “That’s a legitimate point.” Mona interrupted my mental rant, surprising me by siding with Ray.

          My tattered eyebrows shot to the top of my forehead. “What?”

          Ray’s gloating grin made me want to grab my stapler and play whack-a-mole on his pearly whites.

          “I’m not saying I agree completely with him, but as agents of Calamity Jane Realty, we need to appear as professional and trustworthy as possible. The locations we choose to represent reflect on our character. Our feelings for the client can’t cloud our judgment.”

          I opened my mouth to object, but then thought of my handful of clients and how fuzzy the dividing line was between my personal and professional relationships.

          Old Man Harvey now came for dinner a couple of nights a week. Jeff Wymonds and I took turns babysitting each other’s kids. Wolfgang Hessler had wined and dined me before trying to sacrifice me to appease his dead sister’s ghost. Doc and I had knocked boots once already, and given the opportunity, I’d most likely do it again. That left Detective Cooper, Harvey’s favorite nephew, who was on my calendar for a business lunch tomorrow. Lord only knew what was going to come of that.

          I snapped my jaw closed, a guilty blush heating my neck. A glance at Mona’s half-smile confirmed that she and I were in sync on her unspoken meaning.

          “I didn’t agree to sell the Carhart house,” I told both of them. No need to explain that Harvey had already talked me out of taking on the Carharts as clients because of the family’s recent tragedy. “I just said I’d go up to Lead and look at it.”

          Ray snorted. “That’s a waste of time.”

          “What Violet chooses to do with her time is her business, Ray.”

          “Thank you, Mona.”

          “You’re welcome.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and returned to clacking away on her keyboard. “But you might want to take a look at the clock. You’re running late.”

          “Crap!” The home inspector was probably at Doc’s house already, waiting to be let inside. I grabbed my keys.

          “Try not to burn the house down this time, Blondie.”

          “You