“Nope!” he said happily. “That’s the best thing about the NMCF. Fewer strings. Everything is really chill, generally speaking, except when donors like Sandra Trout come knocking. I’ve got friends that work for big hedge funds, and let me tell you: they’re on-call around the clock. If a factory in Tokyo has a power outage, these guys wake up and furiously begin making trades on the futures market from their phones. No thank you.” He sighed. “It also keeps my dad from hounding me all the time. He likes to micromanage everything I do as CFO. Or at least, heusedto. He doesn’t do much of his job anymore these days.”
“I was wondering about that, but didn’t want to ask,” I said as I drove. “Why did you choose to work here under your dad, instead of going somewhere else? I bet hedge fund managers make a lot more money.”
“They do,” he said grudgingly. “And I have the experience and degree to land a job at any of the big firms. But have you ever actually met a hedge fund guy? They’re the fuckingworst. Like, literally scum of the universe.” He pointed at an orphanage we were driving past. “If that place caught fire, do you think hedge fund bros would run inside and help those poor parentless kids escape? Hell no. They would hop on their phones and see how it affected their portfolio first.”
“Youreallyhate hedge funds, don’t you?”
He nodded emphatically. “I had to go to a bachelor party full of hedge fund bros a few weeks ago. It was awful. Like a fraternity, but grown-ass adults. They had porn playing up on the big screen. Do you know how many hedge fund guys worked in the World Trade Center? Honestly, when you think about it that way, 9/11 wasn’t so bad.”
I gasped. “August!”
He gave a rueful grin. “Yeah, okay. That was too far. Even for me. But you get my point.” He nodded out the window. “Speaking of people who look like tools, is that your realtor?”
I pulled up behind a giant Hummer with a New Mexico Realtors Association bumper sticker. The man standing outside it was wearing a full suit, and looked like he didn’t want to be there. He barely even smiled as we parked and got out of the car.
“I’m so excited to start our life together!” August said, taking my arm in his. “Look at this place, honey biscuit. Isn’t it perfect?”
“Honey biscuit?”
“Of course,” he replied. “You know, the adorable pet name I’m always calling you.” He turned to the realtor. “She’d forget her head if it wasn’t attached to her neck. Now! Tell us about this place.”
The realtor didn’t seem amused by August’s shenanigans. “Here’s the listing sheet. Three bedrooms, three baths…”
“Three bedrooms?” I said, frowning at the sheet. “I thought I mentioned I’m looking for something with four bedrooms.”
“Based on your bank’s pre-approval, I changed the search parameters a bit,” he said in a monotone voice. Like I was inconveniencinghim. “This one is within your price range.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. “Okay, that’s fine…”
August tightened his grip on my arm. “That is most certainlynotfine. If we want four bedrooms, then you’re going to show us four bedrooms.”
“I didn’t realize there were two of you, with two incomes,” the realtor replied. “If you want to add your name to the offer letters, I’m sure the bank—”
“My lovely lady is a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need nobody to cosign on her loan,” August snapped. He looked up at the house and waved his hand. “None of this is acceptable. Take us to the next house—as long as it’s four bedrooms.”
“It is,” he replied curtly. “Here’s the listing sheet. I’ll meet you at the address.”
“I wish someone would do a 9/11 onthisguy,” August said when we were back in the car. I laughed all the way to the next listing.
This onewasa four bedroom house, with two and a half baths. The realtor gave us all the stats as we walked into the foyer. “Master downstairs, and three more bedrooms on the second floor. One is doubling as an office right now.” He pulled out his phone. I need to take this. I’ll be right back.”
“You can wait outside,” August said dismissively. “We prefer to look around by ourselves. We’ll meet you there when we’re done.”
“I like how you dismissed him like a servant,” I said as we roamed through the house.
“I believe in treating people the same way they treat others,” he replied. “He was a dick to you, so now that’s how I’m treating him the rest of the showing. And the next time I come with you. Ugh, look at this wood paneling. So dated.”
“Yeah, it’s dated,” I agreed. “But we could always rip it out.”
“Remodeling is expensive, but I like the way you’re thinking,” August said approvingly. “Look at the bones of the house, not the superficial stuff.”
I could afford a remodel if I kept my OnlyFans page up a little longer, I thought.
When we wandered upstairs, August said, “So you and Mikey are going out tonight.”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering how he would react. “It’s too bad you’re busy.”
He followed me into one of the bedrooms. “I know. I can’t wait until Wednesday.”