Lou and I returned from our secret recon mission to LA with a couple of options:
Lou could broker a deal for Hans and Steve to resell a private label version of the anti-aging serums, or, he could just accept a job offer to join the team in California as their Chief Marketing Officer.
Lou was already sure which option he wanted to take, but we felt like he owed it to Steve and Hans to at least give them the chance to weigh in on what they wanted, too. So the day after we returned, Lou met with both men outside of the office.
It shouldn’t have surprised me how short the meeting was. Hans was quick to accept Lou’s “resignation,” and he immediately wrote up an “exit contract” for Lou to sign — even though Lou had never signed an actual employment contract in the first place! But Lou was able to keep/purchase his company laptop, and, I was instructed to hand over all of the content I’d written for the company.
That was that.
Everyone shook hands, and the three men parted ways amicably.
It was all over.
And, no one was sad.
I wasn’t at that meeting, but Lou said it was kind of petty. It felt like little boys calling it quits, collecting their toys, and going home. I have this vision of Hans skipping off to his glamorous pearl white car after the meeting like a happy German boy wearing lederhosen and eating a perfectly gooey apple strudel! I knew he wasn’t going to miss Lou. But I think Lou was equally “skippy” about parting ways with Hans.
However, for Lou and me, we were now facing yet another huge change — which set off a fresh new wave of stress for us both. On top of everything else, once Lou officially accepted the new job, the stem cell company needed Lou to start immediately. There was a lot to do, and Lou was a critical part of the plans. But Lou and I had one primary personal challenge to tackle first: the loft.
Lou was getting a nice salary package from his new company, but there was no way we could afford to carry two rents — even for one month. So that meant that I had two weeks to orchestrate a bi-coastal move from Miami to Orange County!
On the same afternoon that Lou resigned, he negotiated another moving package with his new boss. The new company was very generous to us, and Lou’s new boss understood how quickly he was asking us to make such a big move. So we were authorized to hire a full service moving company to pack us, load us, and unpack us in California. That was a relief, but it was still going to be a lot to work out on my own — because Lou had to start his new jobs in two days!
So it was on me to close out the brand new life I had just arranged for us in Miami.
It was a bitter-sweet process for me. I was excited about Lou’s new job, but I was also consumed by the anxieties that hide in the details. I could see the big picture without fear; but it was the personal stuff that hovered in the midst of my world in Miami that smothered me if I stopped for one second to think. The biggest fear I had was letting our French landlord know that we were going to be breaking our year long lease with her. So I called Omar.
He met me in the lobby of our building, and he gave me a sincere hug as soon as he saw me. I have a very vivid memory of breaking down in tears when I told Omar that we were moving to California. I was so ashamed and embarrassed about everything, and I just couldn’t keep it together.
Everything was indeed happening so fast, and I was so afraid of my French landlords — especially the crabby nephew! He always seemed like he was looking for someone to yell at, and I was certain I would be his new target once he heard the news. On top of that, I was so concerned about the financial ramifications of breaking our lease.
What if they sued us?
Could they do that?
Omar must have taken a special class in calming hysterical women because he was brilliant. He led me to one of the white leather benches, while sweet Marlin got me a glass of cold water. Once I regained my composure, Omar said:
“I know how hard you worked to find this place, and how many hoops you jumped through because of how things work in Miami. But the corrupt side of Miami real estate has actually been working in your favor all along, my friend!”
Then Omar went on to explain to me that the only reason he knew we would be approved to live in this particular loft in the first place is because the French lady and her nephew were completely compromised. The wiring in their units weren’t up to code, and the pay-offs that were made to hide this fact from building inspectors ran pretty deep. So even if our landlord wanted to sue us for breaking our lease, she’d expose herself to a potential tidal wave of legal actions that were much bigger than the loss of a tenant.
I remember being stunned to hear this news. I had been living in an actual house of cards, and I found this news very conflicting! I had been the beneficiary of fraud — which was such a tricky irony for me to assimilate into my messy worldview!
Could God use this reality in my world to spare me from myself? Was I getting away with something, or was I being protected?
I’m still not sure. All I know is that no one ever said one word to us about our hasty departure from that gorgeous loft condo.
