Chandler

The string quartet is annoying. The pampered princess over there watching me is a nag. My bowtie is strangling me.

Those things sum up my night at a fundraising event I'm briskly exiting.

I agreed to go because Dad wants me to represent the Cruze family at the event. You see, my family isn't full of politicians. It's a political dynasty in Los Angeles.

I start my electric LaBelle roadster, gunning the engine. Then, I'm off like a race car driver trying to complete the last racing lap.

Dad's retiring at the end of his term on city council. Although he has dreams of being mayor, he's pushing me to run. So I stop at a red light. I grab my baseball cap from the dashboard and put it on backward to make good use of my time.

Would I like to go into politics?

Sure.

Do I want to run for mayor—or any political position in Los Angeles—right now?

H*ll no.

I'm a man very in tune with his needs.

I park my roadster on the street with a vast estate.

I untie my bowtie and throw it on the passenger side. Next, I unbutton some buttons on my crisp white shirt. Finally, after I exit my car, I throw my suit jacket on the passenger's seat.

Valet approaches me, and as I walk to the sidewalk, I toss him my keys. Before I get to the opened gate, I pull my shirt out of my pants. Now, I've completed my attire for the afterparty. Unfortunately, I missed the party for an actor friend's film launch. I sold him a house some months ago.

Yes, I'm a real estate agent specializing in multi-million homes.

It's a far cry from politics, and I immensely enjoy it.

The crowded room of people lift their glasses when they notice me enter.

Immediately, a tall blonde catwalks toward me. Roberta is her name, and she's my latest ex-girlfriend. We didn't last long.

She smirks at me. Her eyes widen.

I frown. My eyes narrow.

"What do I owe the pleasure, Roberta?" I dryly ask.

Roberta raises her left hand and wiggles her fingers.

My eyes settle on the large diamond engagement ring. I shake my head.

"It didn't take long," Roberta stopped speaking to admire her ring. "Isn't it disappointing to know men wanted to 'wife me' so soon after our breakup?"

I chuckle.

Music starts. It's a mix between rock and rap.

I lean closer to her and say, "I'm having a good night, so I'll let you enjoy your moment."

She yells over the music, "so you did love me?"

I shake my head.

Roberta stomps away.

"Congratulations," I yell as I stare at a beautiful young woman. However, I don't approach her. Roberta's ruined my mood.

"Well, if it's our famous real estate agent in the flesh."

Instantly, I laugh when I hear Rick's comment. However, I see Ben Proyer first. He's another best friend of mine that I met through Rick. He stands across from me with a drink in his hand.

Ben raises his hand and playfully salutes me. I refer to Ben as the "kid" of our group because he's five years younger than Rick and me. He looks tired and runs his blonde hair.

"What up, man?" he says, not waiting for a reply but, comments, "Roberta had me scared for you. She showed that ring around and let everyone assume it was from you."

Rick hands me a drink.

I fist-bump Rick, then tell Ben, "I wasn't making that mistake."

Rick completes the circle. He's taller than me with reddish-blonde hair.

He tells me, "you need to distinguish the party girls from real women. I can't believe you're nearly thirty years old, and you can't pick a woman who doesn't want your money or fame."

I shove Rick, but not too hard. "quit making it sound like you've picked your forever bride."

Ben chimes in, "he's picked her, but poor Ricky can't close the deal."

"And you?" Rick questions, looking at Ben. "It's been so long since I've seen you approach a woman—"

"How about you ask Marty on a date," Ben says with a laugh, "then maybe you can work on me."

I interrupt. "Until then, let's party."

***

"Chandler Cruze," I hear my name and I walk into the outer office.

My assistant, Val, stands and hurriedly introduces us, "This is the man I spoke to you about earlier, Mr. Cruze. He's looking for a property in either Beverly Hills or Bel-Air."

I nod at the older gentleman with the pie-shaped face. Then, although I try not to frown, I'm sure I fail as I say, "Did we have a meeting this afternoon?"

"No," the man waves his hand. "I'm old school, so I like to meet with you. Are there any properties I can view? We'll take my car."

That's not how things work. I want to tell him. However, I say to Val, "put some properties together according to..."

"Lawrence Wright," he tells me.

I shove my fists into my pants pockets and continue, "Mr. Wright's specifications. We'll look at the properties you choose as soon as I can get the sellers on the phone."

Val nods.

Immediately, I returned to my office frustrated. The tasks I gave Val were my job, but I was caught off guard by Mr. Wright showing up. Maybe he thought he'd get on an episode of Billion Dollar Sellers.

I was part of that show for a few episodes, but I didn't like the attention it got me. I was looking for more clients, not more dates.

The guy could be a serial killer too. In my line of work, you can hear about that sometimes.

My phone rings.

Dad.

Sh*t.

"Hi, Dad," I lean back in my chair and roll my eyes. Then, I mouth Dad's following words.

"Son, how are you? I know you'd be even better when we announce our mayoral candidacy."

I chuckle. "I've been waiting for you to announce your next bid as L.A. mayor."

Tomas Cruze scoffs at the comment. "My time, son, has gone. It's your time."

"Dad, I'll settle down then—"

"No trophy wife," Tomas warns, "networking is all you need."

"As I told you, Dad—"

"Great," Tomas interrupts. "You will meet me for drinks tonight. I have two men you should know. They will discuss the race with you and get you started."

"No—"

"Okay, son. Meet us at seven o'clock," Dad interrupts and tells me the meeting place.

I end the call more frustrated than when I entered my office.