Joan picked Soni and I up on a Sunday to look at houses in Bolton Hill. A few more popped up since our last conversation. Dog Boy tagged along. I couldn’t talk him out of warring with Hurk, but we still hung out every free moment I got. Joan parked on Park Avenue and told us that there were three houses we just had to see—all walking distance from one and other. The first was 240 Wilson Street.
We walked in and it felt like home.
The living and dining room was connected by endless walnut colored hard woods like a NBA regulation basketball court and making the kitchen look a mile away from the front door. The ceilings had to be like twenty feet high with low hanging double bladed fans chopping in each room. I had seen those same fans at Home Depot before—they operated by remotes and went for $400 apiece.
Soni and Dog Boy were on mute as the listing agent gave us the tour. Their jaws hung as their big eyes drank everything in sight. The agent showed us that Viking Stove Joan was raving about—saying how the burners were brass flames and boast like 20,000 BTUs across the front with multiple 15,000 BTUs and one 8,000 BTU burner across the back in addition to a bunch of stuff I never heard of. I played it cool like, “That’s nice man that’s really nice.” The kitchen also had a matching Viking wine rack and a Viking fridge that was taller than me all sitting on a collection of huge marble slabs. I imagined myself strolling through in a white Polo robe lighting a Cohiba on the stove and then pouring a half glass of some aged wine from South Africa or something like a boss.
There were three huge bedrooms on the second floor with the same quality wood floors and high ceiling fans as well. The smallest room could be my private study. I didn’t really study anything but I thought I’d have to if lived in this place. The third and largest bedroom on the second floor had a midsize Jacuzzi. Dog Boy leaped in “I’ma be in here like Puff singing, I love it when you call me Big Poppa! Throw ya hands in the air, If you a true playa!”
“Actually the Puff Daddy style tub is up another level,” the agent said.
We followed him up to the brilliant master suite. It was a loft style floor with an even larger Jacuzzi and bidet. I asked the agent what that other toilet was for and Dog Boy said “Don’t you watch cribs? It rinse your ass after you shit for real!” Soni agreed but said, “Watch your mouth man!”
I was sold. I didn’t even need to see the other houses. We looked at them but I can’t remember them. 240 Wilson Street was the spot. I thought about the house every second of every day—it became the topic of 90 percent of my conversations. Every friend, customer and family member heard, “Yo the floors! Yo the kitchen! Yo the square feet!”
Joan and Lass didn’t make it any easier. Together, they both kept telling me that I was preapproved for the $600k and all I had to do was pull the trigger.
Yeah it was $600k.