By Pete Moss
So things go along like they do for a week or so.
Then Oscar returns. I'm in the backyard. I found a grill in the alley and dragged it home. One of the legs is busted so I propped it with a cinderblock. Then I found some scrap wood and chopped that up with a rusty hatchet. I got some paper and some gas and now I've got a fire going and I'm gonna grill some salmon I got out of the dumpster behind Whole Foods on Grand.
So YoYo answers the door.
I'm not really paying attention until I hear Oscar Ohanian's rumbly voice.
I decide to let YoYo handle it.
I can't exactly hear what they're saying, but I do hear YoYo get excited. I figure Oscar Ohanian has mentioned that nice round half million dollar figure.
And sure enough the convo doesn't last too much longer and then YoYo is out in back.
"Oh. My. God!!!" She's pretty excited.
"Let me guess. That was some Real Estate guy who wants to buy this dump for half a million bucks," I say.
YoYo is grinning fit to split, nodding her head "We're rich!" she says.
"Actually....we're not," I say.
"You can't tell me you're not gonna take the offer?!!!?"
"Why in fuck not!?"
"Not my house. Aunt Kate left it to Donnelly. Not me." I throw the salmon on the grill. "You wanna make a salad to go with these?"
But no, YoYo doesn't want to make a salad to go with the salmon, she wants to argue and scheme.
I look at Pedro, patiently waiting for the food to be done.
YoYo runs through all kinds of scenarios involving title shift shenanigans. Anyway she can think of to get her hands on that half mill.
Finally the steaks are done. Pedro and I go in the house. I set the plate on the table get a plate for me and one for Pedro. Pedro hops up on a chair, puts his front paws on the table. I cut a piece of salmon and put it on the plate for him. He eats in a dainty fashion. I take bigger bites. That salmon is good.
It's amazing what winds up in the dumpster around here. This salmon isn't hardly spoiled at all. After it's grilled and with some Teriyaki sauce it tastes fine. Pedro doesn't have any problem with it. Neither do I.
YoYo meanwhile has stomped off into the other room and fired up her laptop. After a few minutes she comes into the room where Pedro and are eating, carrying her laptop, face troubled.
"That greasy motherfucker trying to rip us off, must think we don't know how to look shit up online. Check out the comps in this 'hood. We should be worth more like 600K for this place."
"You hungry?" I say. I saved YoYo a piece of salmon. She'll eat anything if you put Teriyaki on it.
YoYo has become a Real Estate demon.
Personally I think Real Estate is pretty tedious. But YoYo spent 15 years as a parking control officer, in other words being a bland cog in a stifling bureaucracy, so maybe compared to that Real Estate is a thrill ride.
Ohanian comes around, leaves his card, leaves voice mail, bumps up his offer to 525.
Then there's another knock on the door, guy that looks like a Marin county RE guy. Sport coat, Gap slacks, polo shirt, even motherfucking penny loafers.
I scan the curb but don't see a Benz parked anywhere. I know this dude didn't ride the bus.
"Hi I'm Patrick O'Hanlon," he says, sticks out his hand.
"Patrick O'Hanlon, Kates grandson. May I come in?"
"You're Patrick O'Hanlon?"
"You want to see my ID?"
"Yeah, actually, come on in, have a seat."
So Patrick comes in and has a seat and shows me his ID. YoYo barely looks up from her laptop where she's feverishly comparing financing packages for home purchase.
"YoYo, this is Patrick O'Hanlon." I say.
YoYo looks up. "The convict!? He don't look like a convict!"
"Yeah, weren't you doing 20 to life in Corcoran?"
"Haha. Technically yes, I am an ex-con. But did 18 months at Lewisburg."
"In Pennsylvania, for white collar crimes."
"What were you in for?"
"I could tell you but you wouldn't know what I was talking about."
"I pled to falsifying closing dates on credit swap derivatives."
"I've heard of that," says YoYo.
"Well I can see you do your homework," says Patrick, with a white tooth smile and a nod to YoYo laptop.
"So anyway. My grandmother died. My cousin Dennis got deported. I need money to get back in the game. I hear my colleague Ohanian has been sniffing around, probably made an insultingly lowball offer."
"Something like that," I say.
"So Dennis is in Ireland. He probably needs some money himself. The house needs to sell. I can get 600k today. All we need is Dennis signature on some papers."
"So just fax him the papers and be done with it," I say.
"Not that simple. Dennis and I never did get along all that well. Also he's probably ambivalent about selling. He has a sentimental streak and this was where Aunt Kate lived for almost half a century. What needs to happen is somebody needs to go to Ireland and get his signature on the papers."
"That would be me?" I say.
"You and Dennis go all the way back to Elementary school, correct?"
"And what we gettin paid?" interjects YoYo.
"10 per cent."
"60 grand," says YoYo. "We'll need that in writing.