Renewed, p.5
Renewed, page 5
part #1 of Chance Brothers Series Series
My crew and I clocked long hours, running from one home renovation to the next in a desperate attempt to keep our business afloat. The real estate market was unpredictable, so keeping up with the demand was even more challenging. Sonia, usually the most patient among us, was tasked with revamping a coastal contemporary home with an outdoor area drastically less inviting than its interior. We had our orders, craft an oasis that could captivate buyers like the indoors did. Meanwhile, another project manager tackled an empty Mediterranean estate in The Grove. It was a blank canvas, and we had big plans for it. Two U-Hauls filled to the brim with furniture and an interior paint job would wash away the previous owners' questionable taste. We aimed to enhance its traditional charm with plush neutrals and whites, giving it a modern twist.
As I raced through the house, checking every last detail, I made a mental note to make time for the professional photographer hired by the realtor. She had already set up her equipment and was currently setting up the professional lighting in the great room. My assistant's voice echoed down the long hallway, letting me know that Sonia had been trying to contact me.
“What? Oh shit, let me call her back.” I fumbled to grab my phone, realizing I had missed a series of calls from Sonia. Panic washed over me as I imagined what emergency could have her calling me so much.
Dialing her number, I anxiously waited for her to pick up. Relief flooded through me when she answered promptly.
“Thank goodness, I've been trying to reach you!” Sonia exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and amusement. Laughter and commotion echoed in the background, vividly depicting the chaotic scene she was dealing with.
“Sorry, I got caught up in a last-minute meeting at my daughter's school and forgot to turn up the volume on my phone. It's been madness ever since. Is everything okay?” I asked, eager to jump back into action.
“No worries, darling. We're just getting started,” Sonia reassured me.
A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “Tell me, what does the finished product look like? Will our clients be blown away?” I couldn't help but ask, my excitement bubbling to the surface. Glancing around the house, my confidence soared.
“We nailed it. This place will be snatched off the market before the end of the week,” Sonia reassured me.
Entering the family room, I saw Celia had set up her camera and lighting equipment. She was a freelance photographer that I’d worked with on other home projects. I waved and silently mouthed a hello, signaling with my index finger that I was on the phone. Sonia continued talking to me, but my attention was divided, and I was distracted. Something about the arrangement of the couch cushions caught my eye, a minor imperfection that irked my perfectionist tendencies. I couldn't resist the urge to fix it, to ensure that every aspect of the decor exuded harmony and approachable luxury.
“If you don't mind, I'll RSVP for you and send you the details,” Sonia stated casually, causing me to freeze. I could sense the mischievous undertone in her voice, and my curiosity piqued.
“Wait a minute… RSVP? What are you talking about? Who did you accept an invitation from?” I asked, a mix of confusion and frustration lacing my words. I must have spaced out when she was explaining it to me.
Her exasperated sigh traveled through the phone line, and I knew she was trying to rein in her impatience. “Boss, just chill for a second. Trust me, this is a good thing. Remember that call I took from Home Design Network the other day?”
I scratched my head, trying to place the conversation and if we’d had it. “Mm…You mentioned something about a call but not what it was about.”
“Well, Mrs. Rebecca Chance, a producer for Renovated, wants to meet you. She's interested in our services and insists you attend some wrap party for the show's staff,” Sonia revealed, her voice brimming with excitement.
My mind raced, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I had a hunch that I wouldn't like where this conversation was headed. The news that Sonia had imparted weighed heavily on me. She was adamant that I should attend the upcoming Italian restaurant celebration in Miami, even though it would mean attending a cocktail party alone. I was reluctant, knowing that mingling with strangers could prove uncomfortable and tiring—yet at the same time, I knew that this could be a career-defining move, a door opener to business opportunities. “Do we need to meet under these circumstances? It doesn’t seem very professional,” I insisted.
Ever the persuasive force, Sonia quickly interjected, “I already accepted on your behalf. There was no way I would let you miss out on this opportunity. You're talented, creative, and amazing at what you do. It's time for the world to recognize that.”
“If I’m ever in the need for a cheerleader, you’re first on the list.” She had a point, and I couldn't deny it. I let out a resigned sigh, surrendering to the inevitability of the situation. “Okay, send me the location pin to my phone. When am I expected?” I relented, hoping for the best. A victorious cheer erupted from the other end of the line, and I had to move the phone away from my ear to protect my eardrums.
“Yes! I knew you wouldn't back down! Just imagine the publicity this could bring you,” Sonia exclaimed, her excitement contagious.
“I know… I know. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I'd be making a colossal mistake if I didn't consider this opportunity. But you know how I am with socializing,” I confessed, my nerves starting to creep in.
“Jenni, remember, it's a business dinner, not a date. Keep it professional,” she said as if I needed reminding, her laughter dancing in her words. Her reminder snapped me back to the present and the task at hand. I couldn't afford to let my mind wander to that fateful night, to the unforgettable encounter that had awakened desires within me I never knew existed. That was a different time, a different chapter of my life. Tonight, was about seizing opportunities, about making a name for myself and my company.
“You're right. Just send me the details, and let me know if there's any dress code,” I replied, determination firm in my voice. I would keep my focus on the professional aspects, growth, and success that awaited.
“No dress code, boss. It's a casual affair. And trust me, the food looks amazing. I did a little bit of stalking on the place… Bon appétit!” Sonia cheerfully exclaimed before bidding me farewell.
A cough from across the room caught my attention, and I swiveled around to face Celia, already with the camera in hand, beginning to take shots of the space.
“Jenni, it’s great to collaborate with you again. You have a real eye for combining sophistication and bold contrasts in your designs. When I submit this to the editor, they will be static with the results.”
I karate-punched some bright decorative pillows, denting them in the center as they lay at either end of the couch like two matching bookends. “Thanks. It's nice to be in charge of my career path and be appreciated for it.” She had been in the staging business for quite some time.
She gave me a knowing grin before saying, “Once you left Kimberly, her customers realized her real talent was all you. Her business was never the same after. She’s not getting those A-list homes anymore. The agents who recommended her were hugely disappointed with the finished product, and the homes took ages to sell.”
I cringed at the news, knowing it would only fuel my ex-boss’s resentment of me further. Then she continued as if speaking from a stream of consciousness, "Oh, and then there were rumors of charges for furniture and services that the clients never approved."
“That’s a shame because Kimberly was the first to believe in me and give me a chance in her staging business. It had been a subdivision of her design company.” I wouldn’t speak ill of her, especially since whatever was said could be repeated and used in the wrong context. Indeed, I was not too fond of the drama and in this industry, there tended to be a lot of it. While Kimberly was incredible at bringing in the customers, once she had the project, she lacked the bandwidth to create a look that would attract buyers to pull the trigger on the sale. She didn't know how to work with the clients' possessions either. Us human had way too much clutter nowadays, which was made even worse by being able to shop from our phones anytime we wanted. When a make-or-break job was completed solely by me, she took all the credit without giving me any recognition whatsoever, as if I were her inferior. I’d had enough of putting in the hours, ideas, and making a pittance. This wasn’t the moment to dredge up the past, nor was I in the mood to speak ill of another professional in the same field I was in.
“Well, I heard she’s gunning for you, so I’d watch your back.” Celia warns as she continues taking photographs of the room from different angles.
A chill run down my spine as I pick up my tote bag from the floor where I’d left it earlier. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks for the warning. Things sometimes work out for the best. Look who’s smiling now.”
Back home, I readied myself for the meeting with the execs of the Home Design Network. I turned my attention back to Amelia, who had been watching me with wide, curious eyes. She stood in her pajamas, twirling around my bedroom, deliberately avoiding the chaos of clothes scattered over my bed. She hadn’t been happy at my breaking the news that I was heading out for the evening for a work event. I addressed her concern after deciding on dark green wide leg trousers, a silky white blouse, and three-inch heels.
I sat down in front of my vanity table, an assortment of cosmetics in front of me. She came to my side to watch as I pressed powder into my face eliminating whatever shine there was and handed me her favorite lip-gloss for me to apply.
“Thank you, Sweetheart. Tomorrow is a workday. Sometimes, Mama has work events at night. I'm meeting a very important client, and if things go well, I might be featured on TV!” I explained to my child allowing the excitement of the possibilities that tonight could bring to our future in my voice.
Amelia's eyes widened, her imagination running wild. “Why, Mama?” she asked, her curiosity pure and innocent.
I smiled, a rush of love for my daughter swelling in my chest. “Just imagine Amelia, if our work gets showcased on TV, everyone will see how amazing we are at what we do. They'll know that Mama creates magic in people's homes.”
“That would be so cool, Mama!” Her face lit up with awe and admiration.
“I know, wouldn’t it.” I said as I
But before I could delve further into the conversation, my mother's voice boomed from downstairs, calling for her little princess. Amelia's eyes sparkled, and she dashed out of the room, shouting, “Abu!” I chuckled softly, knowing my mother would spoil her with love and attention.
As I glanced at the clock, time ticking away relentlessly, anticipation and nerves coursed through me. It was time to embrace the unknown to face the challenges head-on. With a deep breath and determination, I prepared myself for what lay ahead—business, opportunities, and the potential for a future brighter than I could ever imagine.
An Uber code was printed on my invitation, a subtle reminder that no one should attempt to drive home after the party at Martino's. I heard laughter and music from its open windows when I stepped past the black iron gate and onto the cobblestone path leading to the white Mediterranean villa. As I entered, my eyes widened in awe, old brick walls adorned with photos of Michelin-starred chefs and celebrities, terracotta floors, wooden tables, and more. When I identified myself to the hostess, she checked a list and greeted me with a warm smile before leading me toward the back of the restaurant. There, amid the lively group of people celebrating, I spotted Rebecca Chance, the fashionable producer of Home Design Network. Not only had she found success as host of her show Renovated, but she also happened to be the sister of the network's CEO and daughter of its major shareholders.
Her excitement was palpable as her face lit up upon seeing me. “Jenni! I’m so pleased you could come,” she exclaimed. “I’ve wanted to meet you in person for so long!”
I was taken aback by the warmth of this high-powered exec’s greeting and after a few moments I regrouped and finally answered after shaking myself from my mental paralysis. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m a huge fan of all your productions for the Home Design Network.”
“It's my team. Anything is possible with the right talent and a shared vision.” Rebecca gestured to the people surrounding us. A waiter approached us with a beautifully crafted cocktail in hand. I graciously accepted the drink, and Rebecca assured me that alternative options were available should I desire them.
“The bartender is very talented, and that’s my favorite their serving,” she remarked.
Taking a sip of the delightful Prosecco and raspberry concoction, I couldn't help but be impressed. It was, without a doubt, the best Bellini I had ever tasted. Curiosity tugged at me, and I posed a question to Rebecca. “Can I ask how you found out about me? I'm not particularly a household name nor that well known.”
Her smile widened, and she began recounting the story. “My best friend Karina Lang bought an apartment that you decorated. She was so impressed with your work that she had you redecorate her space soon after.”
The memories of my previous job flooded my mind, vivid as if they had occurred yesterday. A year and a half ago, one of my clients purchased a house and wanted to preserve the staging's essence while transforming the space to reflect her classic, cutting-edge, and feminine style.
“I remember Karina. She was a delight to work with—a client who knew exactly what she wanted and what would make her happy,” I recalled fondly. “Not all clients have that level of clarity, so it's always a pleasure when they do.”
Rebecca's voice dropped to a hushed tone. “That's right. What looks stunning on paper doesn't necessarily guarantee daily happiness.” A shared understanding passed between us, and she revealed her true intentions. “I've seen your work, and it's incredible. After seeing my friend's apartment, I knew I had to meet you. I want to ask you something, but let's celebrate tonight. We just finished filming back-to-back episodes for next season. I'd love to introduce you to our team. Sarah, who heads the production crew, will contact you soon.
“Sounds great,” I replied, nodding in agreement. Just as I thought the night couldn't get any more exciting, a ravishing woman approached us, further fueling my doubts about the requirement for all employees to be attractive. She shook my hand and introduced herself as Sarah.
“You must be Jenni. I recognize you from your Instagram profile. I'm Sarah,” she said with a friendly smile. “Rebecca has been talking about you, and we all follow your page now.”
“Thank you, that's always nice to hear,” I responded genuinely.
“Oh, I omitted to tell you she not only works with me, but she's also my brother-in-law Jeremy's wife,” Rebecca revealed an unexpected connection, and Sarah's beaming expression confirmed the revelation.
“That’s very convenient, keeping this in the family.” I responded to that bit of news.
Rebecca again turns toward me but directs the comment to her sister-in-law, “Anyway, awesome timing, you must have read my thoughts. I just told her I wanted a meeting to discuss some notions I've been pondering.”
Sarah, who must be accustomed to Rebecca's dramatic flair, chuckled along. But suddenly, a familiar voice from my past disrupted the festive atmosphere, stealing my breath and grounding me in place. “How are my beloved sisters?”
My heart thundered in my chest as I heard the deep bass of his voice, and memories of that night spent tangled up in bed with him flooded my mind. His heavy arms had once lifted me off the ground, and I could still feel them wrapped securely around me. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air like a ghostly reminder, and I had to take a deep breath before turning around to face him. Rebecca and Sarah greeted him warmly, their faces filled with warmth at seeing their brother-in-law. Fighting back the bile that rose into my throat, I extended my arm in greeting, my voice trembling slightly as I said, “Hello, I'm Jenni Russo.”
Marcos’s expression turned cold as he studied me, his piercing gaze almost unnerving. But then, his warm, strong hand enveloped mine, sending sparks coursing through my veins. Each callus on his palm was like a tactile connection between us, igniting an invisible chemistry. Would he tell everyone we’d hooked up at a realtors’ convention? I was two seconds from being ill, not a good first impression.
“Nice to meet you, Jenni,” he said with a smirk, his voice laced with intrigue. “You know, you remind me of a woman I once met. But you said your name was Jenni?”
I nodded, unable to find my voice amidst the intense connection that surged between us. “I'm Jenni. Just Jenni.”
At that moment an official looking person with a tablet in one hand and a phone in the other tapped Sarah’s shoulder interrupting the conversation to pull both of the women away leaving me to face the scowling man in private.
My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my ears and behind my eyelids. I placed a hand on my chest to steady it, but it seemed like it would burst out of my rib cage. Images of our physical intimacy kept flashing like a neon sign in my mind, and I struggled to push them back down. He seemed so distant, and his presence here oppressive. He smelled of the ocean, a salty wind, and a hint of sandalwood.
Suddenly, Marcos's loud chatter with his family gave me an opening to move away from him. I walked swiftly towards the terrace doors where Rebecca and Sarah had gone. Despite the urge to flee, I took a deep breath and forced myself to face the room of attendees and carefully navigate through the crowd. When I finally reached the terrace, I met a breathtaking view. A huge Poinciana tree was draped in thousands of white twinkling lights and bright red blossoms. I felt a stab of regret at not being able to enjoy it. I observed the red-checkered farm tables arranged in neat rows. Determined to make my escape, I quickly composed an excuse in my mind about a family emergency for my host and would ask to meet later in a more professional setting.
