#Laurel Yacht for Sale

[bestyachtsblog]

Laurel Yacht for Sale

Find opulence with Laurel Yacht for Sale, a gem from Best Yachts. Experience luxury at its finest aboard the Laurel Motor Yacht.

[wemarketresearchreport]

Yacht Charter Market Future Aspect Analysis and Current Trends by 2016 to 2030

The yacht charter market was worth USD 22.3 million in 2021 and is anticipated to expand at a CAGR of 6.1% over 2022-2030. It is further reckoned to be influencing by various growth inducing factors and accumulate a valuation of USD 40.5 million by 2030.

Chartering a sailboat or motor yacht to travel to different coastal or island sites is known as yachting. Yachts were historically mostly rented for recreational purposes and vacations, but now more and more people are using them for business and political gatherings. The larger boat charter industry includes the yacht charter sector.

Furthermore, due to increased ownership costs for yachts in regions like Europe and North America, there is an increase in marine tourism, aquatic recreational activities, and a preference for yacht chartering over ownership of motor and luxury yachts. Additionally, it is anticipated that the revenue from yacht charter will rise as a result of services like cabin, skippered, and crewed chartering.

The act of renting or chartering a sailboat or motor yacht and sailing to different coastal or island sites is known as yachting. It plays a significant role in the area of service related to recreational boating. It was challenging for the consumers who were active in the recreational boating business to want to maintain the boats because they don't want to miss out on the fun of yachting and sailing. Renting out recreational craft has consequently developed into a key component of maritime tourism. Sales fell as a result of an intensifying trend, however rental boat services were less negatively impacted.

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Global Yacht Charter Market- Segmental assessment

By Type

Motorized Yacht

Sailing Yacht

Others

The motorized segment is likely to showcase a considerable progression by 2030. This is attributable to the various benefits offered by motor yachts including high speed, enhanced power, along with the ability to cover longer distances in lesser time.

By Size

Small

Medium

Large

By Application

Vacation/Leisure

Sailing

Others

The vacation/leisure segment is slated to generate significant returns over the stipulated timeline due to the rising disposable income of the masses and increasing developments in the marine tourism sector.

Top players profiled:-

Northrop & Johnson, Yachtico Inc., Sailogy S.A., Burgess, Ionian Catamarans, IYC, Royal Yacht International, and Princess Yacht Charter

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Frequently Asked Questions

What is the growth rate projection for Global Yacht Charter Market over 2022-2030?

What are the expansion determinants for Global Yacht Charter Market?

What are the primary segments covered in the Global Yacht Charter Market report?

What are the major regions present in the Global Yacht Charter Market?

Which is the fastest growing region in the Global Yacht Charter Market?

About We Market Research

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Our strategic market analysis and capability to comprehend deep cultural, conceptual and social aspects of various tangled markets has helped us make a mark for ourselves in the industry. WE MARKET RESEARCH is a frontrunner in helping numerous companies; both regional and international to successfully achieve their business goals based on our in-depth market analysis. Moreover, we are also capable of devising market strategies that ensure guaranteed customer bases for our clients.

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[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Captain Cold & Me (chapter 5 of 7)

Sara Lance, unbeknownst to her high school classmates, has connections to some of Star City's most popular super-powered heroes--but no powers of her own. Then the mysterious Captain Cold saves her from an attack…and does his best to convince her that he’s not the bad guy everyone seems to think he is. And maybe not all of the "good guys" should be trusted...

Yeah, it's going to be seven chapters now. Bad Jael. ;) The last one was just going to be really long, but I hit a good point to stop and it just felt right. Ch. 6 tomorrow and, I hope, Ch. 7 on Friday. Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the betas!

Can also be read here at AO3 and here at FF.net.

Cold went back out the window, but Sara rolled her eyes, closed the window behind him and headed down to the front door, which she also locked behind her. He was waiting around behind the house, under the tree he kept climbing to get to her, and looked unbelievably relieved when she came into view.

“Um. Here.” He held out something that shone white in the moonlight, and Sara, curious, reached out to take it, turning it over in her hands. It was a white domino mask, not so unlike Laurel’s black one, made of supple leather that was soft beneath her fingertips. She looked up at him, seeing the oddly wistful look on his face again, then nodded, slipping it on and adjusting the elastic that secured it to her head and then pulling her hood up to cover that and her hair.

Cold hesitated in the process of pulling his goggles back down over his eyes and took a step closer, watching her.

“I wish…” he started, then shook his head, turning away and tugging the eyewear down roughly. Sara regarded him thoughtfully, then followed as he started walking into the woods behind the house.

“Might help if you told me where we’re going,” she said after a moment.

“The docks,” he told her. “But first…” He motioned to the side, turning in that direction. “I parked out here so it wouldn’t be visible from the house. Just in case.”

“Parked? What, you have a Coldmobile or something?” Then they moved around a tree, and Sara saw the fence that marked the property line--and, just beyond it, a motorcycle.

Cold clambered over the fence, turning to extend a hand, but Sara just put a hand on a post and vaulted it herself, noting his quick smile. She studied the bike, which looked well-worn but also well-cared-for, and took note of the two helmets hanging from the side with a sort of saddlebag.

“Aw,” she said, picking one up, “you brought me a helmet?”

Cold cleared his throat. “Well. Safety first.” He smirked as she eyed him. “You OK riding pillion?”

“Sure.” Sara put the helmet on, noting that it seemed new, but fit perfectly. Hm. “You really do have a license for this thing?”

Belatedly, she thought that it was probably kind of silly to be OK with running into the night with the so-called supervillain but question whether he had a motorcycle license. But Cold chuckled as he took off his parka and stuffed it in the bag, then put his own helmet on, buckling it before swinging his leg over the bike.

“I do,” he said, fussing with something near the handlebars. “And it’s even clean and up to date.” He started the bike, which purred quietly to life. “But it’s not like I really want to produce my license and registration if pulled over--so we’ll just have to drive safe.”

Sara couldn’t argue with that. She perched behind him, paused, then settled her hands on his waist and tucked her chin against his shoulder. Cold turned his head just a little, the dark stubble on his jaw brushing her cheek, and she heard him sigh, smelled the mint on his breath…

And then they were off, roaring into the evening.

“The docks” could mean any of a few places, all on the Starling River, ranging from the yacht playgrounds of the upper crust to the dramatic opposite: rundown remnants of the time the river had been used for more transportation of goods to and through the city, before the days of airplanes and semis.

Sara knew the city well enough to guess fairly quickly that they were headed for a site somewhat in the middle of the two extremes, the so-called Adams docks at the base of the street of the same name. Thanks to a nearby open-air market, these docks were somewhat still used for legitimate business purposes, bringing goods into the city for sale and further transport. But not this time of night, and not, generally, with any such degree of cloak-and-dagger secrecy.

Her guess was correct, and Cold turned off the bike’s lights a few short blocks away, pulling over into an alleyway between two storefronts, both closed for the night. As he climbed off the motorcycle, Sara followed suit, removing her helmet when he did and watching him thoughtfully.

He gave her the shadow of a smile and another sigh, taking both helmets and stowing them before pulling out his parka and shrugging it back on, zipping it up before moving closer.

“I’d learned there was something to be brought into the city on the river some night this month,” he said quietly. “And wouldn’t you know, when I made the rounds earlier tonight, there was a boat running dark, headed this way.”

“The Adams docks?” Sara made a thoughtful noise as he nodded. For all his icy powers and his name, he was awfully warm, in a good way, while standing so close to her. “What is it? This thing?”

“Not positive.” Cold took a deep breath and let it out. “A weapon, at a very educated guess. Or more than one.” Sara digested that while he glanced out the mouth of the alley and then beckoned her to follow, walking quickly across the street and into another alley there. He started up a ladder at the back of it without even checking to see if she was OK, which had the perverse effect of making Sara smile as she followed. He trusted that she could do this.

And he trusted her to have his back.

Once on top of the building there, Cold moved toward the front, which overlooked the cross street and then the docks themselves. There was enough of a rim that they could kneel behind it and observe without being seen, and they did just that, peering out at the dark street and the darker water beyond.

Just as he’d said, there was a boat coming in dark—and just as he’d said, he hadn’t had much time to spare. Even as Sara watched, shapes moved about in the small receiving building off the dock, coming out and throwing ropes toward the craft, ropes that were caught by a figure onboard.

She glanced toward Cold, who was watching intently.

“I can distract them. I’m around a lot of water here, and ice is sort of my thing,” he told her, a hint of humor in his tone. “As you know. And...well, my powers are actually a good bit stronger than I’ve shown before around you.”

He motioned to the building while she considered that. “You see if you can get a good look at what's in those boxes...or maybe even make off with it.”

As soon as the boat was tied up, figures had boarded, pausing and milling about a moment before picking up boxes that had been stacked on board and starting to carry them off, into the building, before emerging to get more.

“You’d trust me to do that?” Her father...or even Laurel and Oliver...wouldn’t trust her to so much as play dispatcher. Or, she thought, to be fair, perhaps it was less trust and more that they felt the need to try to protect her.

“Yep. And if you can yell if you see something—or someone—coming that I don’t.” He turned toward her and smirked, light from the sole streetlamp reflecting off too-blue eyes, then rose and hurried toward the side of the building. Sara shook her head, then followed.

They moved quietly down the ladder there, pausing a moment behind the dumpster in yet another alley, then Cold took a deep breath, nodded to her, and darted across the street, ducking into the shadows. Sara frowned, tracking him. He should have taken off that blue parka, she thought. While it was a darker blue, the pale ruff stood out, and the rather questionable style choice, even for a super, made it completely clear who it was even before he used his powers.

But as he stood up out on the dock and lifted a hand to point it at the boat and the workers, she understood why. He wanted them to know him for who, and what, he was. Silly fashion choices and all.

Captain Cold.

Sara skidded into place outside the door just in time for a decent view. As Cold pointed, then made a fist and lifted it in the air, the water around the boat followed his gesture. Except that it wasn’t water anymore, or not liquid water anyway. Jagged spikes of ice crashed up around the craft, rocking it to the side, and the men on board shouted and hung on.

Sara could feel the chill rolling through the air, raising goosebumps on her arms even through her sleeves. The people working in the building, realizing that something was going on, went running out toward the dock, and Sara took a deep breath. Time to move.

She slipped in the front door, drawing one of her knives and kneeling next to one of the bigger boxes. The dratted thing was sealed tight, and Sara bit her lip as she sawed at it, flinching as she heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot outside. But the shouts and the sounds of crashing ice and moving water didn’t even pause, so she had to believe Cold was managing OK.

The seals on the box gave way, and Sara hurriedly peeled it open, parting the container to get a good look at the contents.

And then she gasped.

“It can’t...” she whispered, staring. “How?”

Fortunately (or unfortunately, she wasn’t sure) a few more gunshots from outside jolted her from her shock. Sara quickly opened a few more boxes, checking their contents, pulling out her phone to snap a few pictures. The bigger boxes all contained the same thing, while the smaller ones held small silver wristbands, packed dozens to a box. Sara turned one over in her hands, then tucked a few away in her pockets before taking a look at the room as a whole.

She had to destroy these, at least the bigger boxes. There was no good purpose for their contents, none at all. She knew that as well as anyone. But how...

Sara took a deep breath, then picked one of the boxes up. It was heavy, but she was stronger than she looked after years of martial art training, and she was pretty motivated. Then she kicked open the door to the docks and moved outside.

Just in time to hear the approaching whirrrr of a helicopter.

Cold was still keeping the workers busy, the boat locked in ice and a frozen shield protecting him from gunfire. Sara moved toward him, making sure he saw her, then tilted the box just once so that he could see what was inside, jerking her head back toward the building to indicate there were more.

He froze.

At another time, it might have been funny, the start of a bad pun, but Sara had rarely felt less humorous in her life. She saw Cold register what she held, saw him recognize it, saw his mouth form a thin, determined line. And then everything happened at once.

A spotlight from the helicopter hit them and a voice magnified by a bullhorn called out “Captain Cold! You are under...”

Cold jerked his head at Sara, who took another deep breath and pelted toward him despite her armload, sliding on the ice on the pavement to behind him, ducking her head instinctively.

He bought up his hands, which had been stretched out before him, and the ice surrounding the boat contracted, holding it in a frozen grip. People tumbled everywhere, onto the sheets of ice that now coated the river and back from where those ice spires rose.

And then he “threw” the boat at the building.

The voice from the helicopter rose, but Cold had already dove for Sara, bringing his arm up with another wave of ice to shield them as shrapnel flew everywhere. Then they were running again, back the way they’d originally come, counting on the chaos to cover them.

Cold took the box from Sara as they rounded the corner, headed for the alley where he’d left his bike. She spared a moment to wish she’d just tossed the damned thing in the water—it weighed too much to take with them, it would just slow them down—but he moved over to a dumpster next to the closed Chinese restaurant across the street and pitched the box in with a grunt, then rejoined her on the headlong flight.

Sara jumped onto the bike, perching her helmet back on her head even as Cold stuffed his goggles and parka into the bag again and vaulted into place in front of her, starting the machine and peeling out of the alley with a squeal of tires. Sara dared a glance behind them, but saw no pursuit from the scene of chaos at the dock—and, oddly or not, no lit-up police or emergency vehicles. She frowned, but turned to face forward, tucking her chin against Cold’s shoulder and wrapping her arms around him a little more securely, enjoying both the hint of chill that still hung over him and the solid warmth underneath.

They tore on through the night, taking twists and turns Sara was pretty sure were meant to throw off any pursuit, just in case. But none came, and she actually found herself laughing out loud, realizing that they’d actually gotten away with that mad bit of rampant destruction. The connotations of what she’d found in that dockside building were disturbing as hell, but...

But the adrenaline was pulsing through her veins, and her supervillain was laughing, too, his shoulders shaking under her hands, and the night was clear and beautiful.

She wondered where they were going. But she’d thrown her lot in now, and she was at peace with that, for better or for worse.

Eventually, Cold pulled the bike into yet another alley, concealing it behind a stack of boxes, then gave her an inquiring look as he reached up to pull down the metal skeleton of a fire escape ladder. Sara grinned at him, and he smirked back, and then they set off for the heights again, clambering up the side of a city brownstone in the way of squirrels or superheroes.

She realized why he’d picked this one as soon as she stepped out onto the roof. It had a view of the river, from far enough away that they weren’t likely to be spotted but close enough to see a little of what was going on. Which was...not so much, really.  The helicopter was gone, and there were no flashing lights, just—she peered toward the scene as Cold murmured something to himself—more dark shapes, apparently picking up the very small pieces.

That somewhat confirmed Sara’s supposition that someone high up in the city wanted this kept quiet. Which was an uncomfortable thought, and she didn’t want to inspect it right now, didn’t want to spoil the way she was feeling. So instead, she glanced at the figure next to her, the super who’d held the very substance of the Starling River in his hands and turned it into a weapon and a shield, the boy who’d trusted her to watch his back and help him figure out and deal with such a huge and potentially terrifying conspiracy, despite her lack of powers and everything else.

“We did it,” he breathed. “I mean...for now. We did it.”

Cold didn’t let out a whoop of victory or anything nearly so effusive. But he did turn to her, the first real grin she’d ever seen on his face lighting his eyes, which sparkled with triumph and mischief. Sara laughed, moving closer to him as he reached out an arm and looped it around her waist again, pulling her close as she reached up and put her hands on his shoulders.

And then they were kissing, there on that rooftop in Star City, under the stars and the full moon and the wind rustling the errant leaves around them.

Sara had kissed, and been kissed, before. But not like this.

Not with the adrenaline still making her dizzy, the strong arms around her both gentle and assured, the biting breath of cold still on his lips. Warmth blossomed within her, and she curled her hands around his neck, pulling him closer too, as close as humanly possible.

When they finally parted, slowly and reluctantly, Sara felt like it’d been seconds and it’d been hours, all at once. She took a steadying breath and licked her lips, then looked back up into those blue, blue eyes, eyes that were…conflicted, which was not really the expression she’d hoped to see in them right then.

Cold took a deep breath too, then closed his eyes. Sara studied his face, noting the premature lines in it, a few faded scars, too many for someone so young, and waited.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, then. “Sara. I...have to confess something…”

But Sara decided then that she couldn’t let him go on with anything that was causing that degree of pain in his voice. Not when she could stop it. She tightened her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake, startling him out of the confession, eyes focusing on hers again.

“It’s OK, Len,” she whispered, hearing his intake of breath as he registered her words. “I know it’s you.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Captain Cold...Leonard Snart...shook his head roughly. He pulled back a moment and stared at her, but Sara kept grinning at him, sure in her statement even as she let him go.

Then he sighed, and reached up and pulled back his hood/mask. Dark, short hair with the spark of silver in it, those damned cheekbones and eyelashes, and those ridiculous blue eyes. Sara’s grin grew.

Leonard noticed the direction of her gaze, then tapped a finger against the bridge of his nose, between his eyes.

“You were right,” he told her with another sigh, reaching out to take her hand carefully. “They’re contacts.” He shook his head. “When did you figure it out?”

Sara considered it, tightening her grip on his fingers to try to show him that she was OK with this.

“I was pretty sure already,” she told him after a moment. “At first, when you showed up at the window tonight, I thought maybe you were testing me, seeing if I’d blow off the date with…well, you…to go run with Captain Cold.” She held up her other hand as he started to speak. “But you wouldn’t do that. I get it. You were telling the truth: you had to move fast, and you didn’t have time to spill your secrets and make sure we could get past them.”

Leonard actually chuckled at that.

“I had good intentions, you know,” he said quietly, looking down at her hand. “I thought I’d pick you up like a so-called normal person, take you for a bite to eat--then spill the secret and see if you wanted to…to go fight crime together.” His lips quirked a little more as Sara laughed. “Well, it seemed like the sort of thing you’d like to do.”

“You have no idea,” Sara told him fervently, thinking of Laurel and Oliver and all the times she’d tried to step more into their world. And passionately thankful neither of them had showed up at the docks.

“Well, I got that right, at least.” He gave her an almost shy glance. “How did you know?”

“Well. You smell—and taste--like mint. A certain kind of mint gum, to be exact.” She laughed as he sighed, spreading his hands in a “what can you do?” gesture. “But more seriously... probably the biggest was Malcolm Merlyn.”

Leonard’s face darkened, but Sara knew it wasn’t aimed at her. She reclaimed his hand, squeezing gently, before she started to speak again.

“You—Captain Cold-You—were investigating Merlyn, and told me that you'd had run-ins with him before,” she said, thinking back over the pattern she couldn’t help but notice, “and then my dad said something about allegations, about something you—Leonard Snart-You--said two years ago, connected with Merlyn. Who was apparently concerned enough about it to get you moved to Central City.”

Leonard looked down at their hands, then heaved a huge sigh, conflict and pain drifting over his features. Sara let him think a moment, trying to convey support and a lack of judgment.

“I told them, back then,” he said quietly. “Mayor Queen, and the commiss...your dad. I told them that Merlyn was in on it with my da….with Lewis. No one believed me.”

Sara sucked in a breath. “In on it,” she whispered. “You mean the City Hall quake.”

“Yeah. I saw him meet with Lewis a few times. Merlyn...he’d pay for dirty work.” A darker shadow passed his eyes. “And my dad was all for that. I was watching, because I never trusted him.” A humorless laugh. “My dad or Merlyn.”

Len glanced away, guilt etched across his features. “I saw...I saw him give Lewis the device, the Markov device. Two days before the quake. But I didn’t know what it was, then.”

Sara closed her eyes. She’d never liked Merlyn, but this... “His own son died, at City Hall,” she breathed. “How could he?”

Leonard shrugged, but they both moved closer, a little, sharing support in the face of nearly unimaginable evil.

“Pretty sure his own kid wasn’t supposed to be there,” he said bitterly. “I think it was supposed to take out Mayor Queen. And probably other city higher-ups. You know, to kind of rally the city together around the new mayor, so he could pretty do whatever he wanted, especially in the name of law and order.”

Sara thought about what she knew of Merlyn. God help her, she could see it. “Tempest,” she said. “The name of his plan?”

“I think so. He’s got other people supporting him, too, although I don’t know who all of them are.” Len shook his head. “At least maybe my speaking up, two years back, delayed it a little, made it so he had to keep his nose clean for a bit. But I think he’s nearly there now. He’s going to do something.”

Sara bit her lip. “And there were Markov devices in those boxes, at the docks,” she added slowly. “Smaller ones than that one two years ago—I read all the articles, I saw the diagrams--but enough to cause a lot of damage...”

“Yeah. I didn’t know that’s what they were, but I knew he was expecting something.”

Sara looked up at the moon, thinking. The adrenaline of the mission and then the kiss was fading—although she definitely wanted to try the latter again—and Leonard’s revelation made the autumn breeze feel chillier than it probably really was. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, unable to tear her mind away from a horrible thought.

“My dad couldn’t be part of it,” she whispered. “Right? That quake...it killed my mom.”

She wanted Leonard to immediately deny her dad’s involvement, to say that there was no way, that Commissioner Quentin Lance was clean, just with some rather...misplaced...loyalties. He didn’t. He wouldn’t, she knew, unless he was sure. He respected her too much for that.

“Was he expecting her that day?” Leonard asked quietly. “At City Hall?”

“No. She’d been planning to surprise him.” Sara closed her eyes, feeling tears leaking out. “No...”

She felt the air shift around her, and then Leonard had taken her shoulders in his hands, holding her securely and comforting her in the only way he really could.

“Sara, I think he’s a super of some sort,” he said intently. “Merlyn. He’s got some sort of…whammy. Everything I said was true, back then, but no one believed me. They didn’t even really look into it.” He nodded as she looked up at him. “And Lewis—when he was arrested and Merlyn didn’t get him freed, there’s no way he would have stayed silent and headed off to death row like that. Maybe...maybe he’s used it on your dad.”

It was a small hope, but Sara would take it. She nodded, then wiped away the tears with irritation, pulling back to reach into her pocket.

“There were these, too. At the docks,” she told Leonard, holding one of the silver wristlets out to him. “We need to find out what they are.”

Leonard took it and turned it over in his hands, but to Sara’s slight disappointment, he didn’t seem to have any idea what it was. “And I’ll go back near the dock and get that device tomorrow,” he mused. “The one I threw in the dumpster. Pretty sure that no one really saw that we got one away, given all the chaos. Maybe...I don’t know.”

He sighed then, giving her a rueful look. “I’m not a scientist,” he said, looking down. “I have some basic know-how, but I don’t know what we can figure out more about these, or how to stop whatever Merlyn’s planning to do with them. That shipment is gone, but there will be more. He’s got all the money he wants to buy them.”

Sara hummed thoughtfully, looking at the wristband. They needed a tech expert, she thought. An engineer. Maybe a hacker. Someone good at digging things up...

Then she smiled.

“You might be surprised,” she said lightly, suddenly a bit more optimistic. “We have people with all sorts of odd skills.”

Leonard lifted his head to gaze at her, hope and skepticism warring in his eyes. “We?” he asked doubtfully.

Sara grinned at him. “Yes,” she said, reaching out to take his hand and feeling hope stirring within her again. “We.”

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Divide-Chapter Eight- Eraser

Laurel walked out the door and Harry crumpled to his knees. He had not a clue as to what was going on. She’d barely spoken a word while she was in his house but was clearly distressed. At first he figured she was just torn between him and Willy. Laurel was a good girl, he was surprised that she had even come on to him while she was clearly with someone else. Whatever was going on though, it seemed a bit grander than just a decision between two boys.

Harry hauled himself up from his knees and took a note from every romantic comedy his family had ‘made’ him watch. He opened the door and went after her. “Laurel!” he rushed into the rain and felt the chill of the stones seep into his bare feet. He ran anyway. “Laurel,” he called louder, but by the time he reached the street he couldn’t see the silky black fall of her hair. There were cabs on the street, but he couldn’t possibly stop them all, had no hope of picking the right one. His shoulders deflated and his head dropped on his neck.

He trudged back into his house and nearly cried when he caught her scent in the air. All that was left to do was try. He picked up his phone and pulled up her contact. “Laurel, I’ve no idea what is going on. Please let me know you are ok. I’m here, whatever you need,” he meant every word but was sure this was all just too little too late.

Harry made his way back up to his bedroom and continued his packing. He had an early morning flight to begin promo. It was the culmination of a year of extremely hard work that he was proud of. But, it didn’t sit right.

The phone was in his hand before he had made a conscious decision to call. “Jeff, something has come up. I need a day to try to fix it. Can you make it happen.”

Harry could hear Jeff’s sigh from 4,000 miles away. “You have an extremely early interview in two days Harry. I can’t change it. If we cancel it’ll diminish your credibility. Zayn has already burned some bridges for you.”

Harry grit his teeth. “Can I take a red eye, I’ll go straight from the airport to the appointment.”

“It’s that important?” Jeff asked.

“It’s that important.” Harry said with unmistakable intent.

“As your manager, I advise against it. As your best friend, I’ll make it happen. Hope it works out with Laurel,” Harry could hear Jeff s grin.

“Who said anything about Laurel?”

“Harry, I know you think you hide things well, but you are as subtle as a drunken toddler. I’ve heard her name nonstop lately. I’m booking you a flight out tomorrow night. Don’t miss it,” Jeff hung up and Harry threw his phone down before changing into street clothes, his ever present grey hoodie, sunglasses and a coat.

The black SUV purred to life beneath him and he text Ed.

“Do you know where Laurel is?” Harry rushed out.

“No mate, she called in today, sounded like proper shit,” Ed confided.

“Look, I know this is a shit request, but I can’t find her and need to. I need Willy’s number.”

The hiss Ed let out made Harry shake his head, “I’m worried. She came by and broke down and left. Something is wrong. Never seen her act like that. Please Ed,” Harry’s voice had an edge he hadn’t heard since his mom told him no about trying out for ex factor until he passed his GSCE’s. This was a tad more serious.

“Ok, I’ll send it to you. Don’t fuck it up mate, he’s good for her,” he warned.

Calling Willy was a last resort, so he went to her apartment first. He banged on the door until the neighbor came out, a curse on her lips until she got that shocked look people got when they looked at him.

“Have you seen Laurel, the girl who lives here?” he asked politely.

“No, been home all day, she left early,” the blonde returned. Harry turned to go, “Harry, can I have an autograph. I love you,” she flapped her hands and he saw it coming, the full on freak out. He really didn’t want to, but he stopped and signed and kissed her cheek.

“Please, tell Laurel I was here.”

“I will, I even have proof,” the neighbor girl hopped onto her toes.

He wanted to smile, but found he couldn’t muster one.

After he left her place, he was at a loss. He was shit, and he knew it, but when you couldn’t find the girl you loved and realized you had no idea about where she might be, who she saw, where her family was, you realized how shit.

He tried social media and sent Hail Mary messages to several people who appeared on her pages often. But, who would believe Harry Styles was messaging them. It was funny, it was apparently so many people’s dream, but no one believed him when he did it.

When no leads seemed promising, he headed home and opened a bottle of whisky. He needed a pain eraser. He steadily made his way through the bottle.

By 3AM, no one had gotten back to him and he was a drunken mess. Harry stumbled to a guest room, he didn’t want to see the mess they had left behind any more. Her wet clothes were strewn about and his bed looked like it had seen a reconciliation.

When he woke up, hungover and humbled by the pool of vomit nearby, he opened his phone with hope of something.

None of his messages had been returned. He tried Laurel once more. It went straight to voicemail. Harry flopped his way through a shower and left with wet hair, running through a drive thru and choking down fast food to try to cover up last night’ sins.

At Laurel’s apartment there was no answer, again. It was nearing on 3 and he needed to get his bags and go. Harry swallowed his pride and climbed into his truck to make the call.

“Ello,” the pretty slur met his ears.

“Hi, is this Willy?” Harry forced out.

“Yes, who is this?” Willy responded.

“This is Harry, Harry Styles. Listen, this is strange, but, I can’t find Laurel and I’m worried about her.”

“Laurel? And why are you looking for her?” Willy’s voice had a bite to it now.

“Um….I saw her yesterday and she was upset. I just want to be sure she’s ok,” Harry finished lamely as he turned over his engine.

“I have not seen her, or heard from her. Did you upset her? How do you know her? She has been different since we met you at the show?” The accusation was hard to ignore.

“No, no mate, she was already upset when I saw her, she was more upset when she left though–”

“Listen,” Willy interrupted, “Harry,” he enunciated the second syllable disdainfully, “I will find My Laurel. And if she wants to speak with you, I’m sure she’ll call.” And the line disconnected.

“Fuck,” Harry hit his wheel, that door was closed. Could he have fucked this up more. He drove home distracted and grabbed his bag. When his car arrived he shoved it into the boot and did a final check that the house was shut up for the two months he’d be away.

On the way to the airport and while he waited for his flight, he texted and called Laurel.

He drank his way to sleep again as the plane took off. Harry made it to the interview, but it was not the conquering success it should have been. His bloodshot eyes and whiskey breath led to more press speculation than when he’d gotten on that yacht.

His debut single came out and was met with acclaim and sales. Thank god, because his promo was abysmal. He was distracted and half drunk for a month. If the music hadn’t been so strong, he may have been classified another boy band flop.

Still no word from Laurel.

That first month of his solo career everyday it was another pill to take the pain away. Another drink to erase the pain. All his hard work was buckling and he felt like even people who should be proud, weren’t.

After 5 weeks of bad behavior he woke up to a freezing glass of water thrown on his face and Gemma’s cold eyes.

“Get up, you arse,” she said when she saw him turn back into the pillow.

In the living room of his hotel suite sat his mum, Gemma, and Jeff.

“Alright, enough feeling sorry for yourself my boy. What in the name of God is going on?” His mother asked without so much as a hug.

“I can’t find her, she’s disappeared,” he whispered as he folded himself into the adjacent arm chair.

“Who?” Gemma asked.

“Laurel.”

“Who?" Gemma asked again.

Harry shook his head and began, “my, my, I don’t know, the girl I love. I broke her heart I think. But the she seemed ok, moved on, but then she came to me and something was wrong. But I can’t find her. No one seems to know where she is or they are not telling me. I’m so fucking worried.”

“This the girl you came home to lick your wounds about, love?” His mom asked.

Harry nodded.

“You couldn’t fix it?” Anne’s voice was soft.

“I don’t even know what to fix,” Harry croaked.

“Harry,” Jeff sat up straighter and leaned in, "do we need to get you some help buddy? We,” he pointed to himself and the seated ladies seated beside him, “are worried about you.”

“No, no, I’ll pull it together,” he promised and he meant it. It was time to crawl out of the bell jar. The conversation continued and over room service he explained the situation to his mom and sister. He never wanted to see their disappointment so plainly again.

Jeff went home and his mum and sister stayed the weekend. On Sunday, after he walked them to the door, he hugged them goodbye tightly saying his thanks. Gemma pressed something into his hands.

“Maybe find a better way to cope, arse face.”

He looked down after she boarded the lift and found a new leather bound journal.

It took a few days, and a radical alcohol flush, of both his body and hotel room, but Harry was feeling better. He still hadn’t heard from Laurel. But he’d found comfort in the writing, a new pain eraser. He wanted to check on her, but couldn’t find it in himself to call Willy again.

He returned home in a few weeks. Harry promised himself he’d find her then.

Two days before his flight home, Ed texted him.

He’d found Laurel, but the press clipping attached broke Harry’s heart further.

Harry called Jeff, he needed to get home now, Somethings could not wait.

[juditmiltz]

The business of breaking up

(Illustration by Neil Webb)

Rudy and Judi. Harry and Linda. Don Jr. and Vanessa. They’re all household names in New York City, and they’ve all called their marriages quits in the last year.

And with those divorces — along with the thousands of others in NYC every year — come battles not just over money, but also over real estate. While that almost always entails divvying up properties, it can also mean liquidating them, which when ordered by a judge offers little flexibility.

“It’s like trying to predict the market in a crystal ball,” said Douglas Elliman’s Howard Margolis, referring to the difficulty of advising a splitting couple that’s “under duress.”

Margolis said it’s also key to ensure that word of the divorce doesn’t leak to potential buyers who will smell a discount if they learn of a split.

These deals can be so complicated that one Los Angeles-based agent recently launched the Divorce Real Estate Institute to train brokers on handling them.

“They expose the real estate professional to additional liability,” DREI’s founder, Laurel Starks, recently told The Real Deal. “The family law community needs more real estate agents who are trained and versed in family law to minimize conflict, maximize profits, and to do it from a fair, unbiased place.”

Here’s a look at some key divorce stats, as well as some of the real estate portfolios that have recently been in the spotlight via dissolving marriages.

3

The number of times Rudy Giuliani has been married. His third wife, Judith, filed for a contested divorce in April. The couple own two South Florida condos worth roughly $4 million, a $5.3 million condo at 45 East 66th Street and a Hamptons house valued at about $4 million.

26,486

The number of divorces filed in NYC in 2017. That was down from 27,622 in 2016. Meanwhile, New York state has one of the lowest divorce rates in the U.S. with 12.9 people per 1,000 divorcing in 2016 versus more than 20 per 1,000 in some states.

13M sq. ft.

The size of Macklowe Properties’ real estate portfolio. The holdings were in the spotlight in late 2017 during the developer’s divorce trial, which offered a look at his stakes in such high-profile NYC properties as 432 Park Avenue and One Wall Street.

9.5

The average number of months it takes for a divorce to unfold in NYC. But that time can span from four to 24 months, depending on whether it’s a “no fault” split, whether there are child custody issues and how complex the portfolio of assets is. By comparison, the national average is 11 months.

$17,100

The average bill for getting divorced in NYC, which usually costs between $5,000 and $37,000. That’s 34 percent higher than the national average and includes more than $13,000 in attorneys’ fees, as well as the cost of mediation and expert witnesses, including real estate appraisers.

$500M

The value of the 377-foot yacht Russian oligarch Farkhad Akhmedov was ordered to give his ex-wife by a UK court in April. In 2016, a judge awarded Tatiana Akhmedova a nearly $590 million settlement, including a roughly $27 million country house. The sum, more than 40 percent of Akhmedov’s fortune, was one of Britain’s all-time largest divorce settlements.

$335

The cost of filing the paperwork for an uncontested divorce. That’s what Vanessa Trump did in March when she filed against Don Jr. But that doesn’t mean that the two — who were married for 12 years and have five children — won’t pay lawyers handsomely to help divide their properties and assets.

70%

The number of U.S. divorces that involve divvying up property, according to a guesstimate by Starks. Though no national numbers are available, Starks said that in California alone, she’s personally handled over $150 million in property sales related to divorce.

from The Real Deal Miami https://therealdeal.com/issues_articles/the-business-of-breaking-up/#new_tab via IFTTT

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[juditmiltz]

The business of breaking up

(Illustration by Neil Webb)

Rudy and Judi. Harry and Linda. Don Jr. and Vanessa. They’re all household names in New York City, and they’ve all called their marriages quits in the last year.

And with those divorces — along with the thousands of others in NYC every year — come battles not just over money, but also over real estate. While that almost always entails divvying up properties, it can also mean liquidating them, which when ordered by a judge offers little flexibility.

“It’s like trying to predict the market in a crystal ball,” said Douglas Elliman’s Howard Margolis, referring to the difficulty of advising a splitting couple that’s “under duress.”

Margolis said it’s also key to ensure that word of the divorce doesn’t leak to potential buyers who will smell a discount if they learn of a split.

These deals can be so complicated that one Los Angeles-based agent recently launched the Divorce Real Estate Institute to train brokers on handling them.

“They expose the real estate professional to additional liability,” DREI’s founder, Laurel Starks, recently told The Real Deal. “The family law community needs more real estate agents who are trained and versed in family law to minimize conflict, maximize profits, and to do it from a fair, unbiased place.”

Here’s a look at some key divorce stats, as well as some of the real estate portfolios that have recently been in the spotlight via dissolving marriages.

3

The number of times Rudy Giuliani has been married. His third wife, Judith, filed for a contested divorce in April. The couple own two South Florida condos worth roughly $4 million, a $5.3 million condo at 45 East 66th Street and a Hamptons house valued at about $4 million.

26,486

The number of divorces filed in NYC in 2017. That was down from 27,622 in 2016. Meanwhile, New York state has one of the lowest divorce rates in the U.S. with 12.9 people per 1,000 divorcing in 2016 versus more than 20 per 1,000 in some states.

13M sq. ft.

The size of Macklowe Properties’ real estate portfolio. The holdings were in the spotlight in late 2017 during the developer’s divorce trial, which offered a look at his stakes in such high-profile NYC properties as 432 Park Avenue and One Wall Street.

9.5

The average number of months it takes for a divorce to unfold in NYC. But that time can span from four to 24 months, depending on whether it’s a “no fault” split, whether there are child custody issues and how complex the portfolio of assets is. By comparison, the national average is 11 months.

$17,100

The average bill for getting divorced in NYC, which usually costs between $5,000 and $37,000. That’s 34 percent higher than the national average and includes more than $13,000 in attorneys’ fees, as well as the cost of mediation and expert witnesses, including real estate appraisers.

$500M

The value of the 377-foot yacht Russian oligarch Farkhad Akhmedov was ordered to give his ex-wife by a UK court in April. In 2016, a judge awarded Tatiana Akhmedova a nearly $590 million settlement, including a roughly $27 million country house. The sum, more than 40 percent of Akhmedov’s fortune, was one of Britain’s all-time largest divorce settlements.

$335

The cost of filing the paperwork for an uncontested divorce. That’s what Vanessa Trump did in March when she filed against Don Jr. But that doesn’t mean that the two — who were married for 12 years and have five children — won’t pay lawyers handsomely to help divide their properties and assets.

70%

The number of U.S. divorces that involve divvying up property, according to a guesstimate by Starks. Though no national numbers are available, Starks said that in California alone, she’s personally handled over $150 million in property sales related to divorce.

from The Real Deal Miami https://therealdeal.com/issues_articles/the-business-of-breaking-up/#new_tab via IFTTT

[juditmiltz]

The business of breaking up

(Illustration by Neil Webb)

Rudy and Judi. Harry and Linda. Don Jr. and Vanessa. They’re all household names in New York City, and they’ve all called their marriages quits in the last year.

And with those divorces — along with the thousands of others in NYC every year — come battles not just over money, but also over real estate. While that almost always entails divvying up properties, it can also mean liquidating them, which when ordered by a judge offers little flexibility.

“It’s like trying to predict the market in a crystal ball,” said Douglas Elliman’s Howard Margolis, referring to the difficulty of advising a splitting couple that’s “under duress.”

Margolis said it’s also key to ensure that word of the divorce doesn’t leak to potential buyers who will smell a discount if they learn of a split.

These deals can be so complicated that one Los Angeles-based agent recently launched the Divorce Real Estate Institute to train brokers on handling them.

“They expose the real estate professional to additional liability,” DREI’s founder, Laurel Starks, recently told The Real Deal. “The family law community needs more real estate agents who are trained and versed in family law to minimize conflict, maximize profits, and to do it from a fair, unbiased place.”

Here’s a look at some key divorce stats, as well as some of the real estate portfolios that have recently been in the spotlight via dissolving marriages.

3

The number of times Rudy Giuliani has been married. His third wife, Judith, filed for a contested divorce in April. The couple own two South Florida condos worth roughly $4 million, a $5.3 million condo at 45 East 66th Street and a Hamptons house valued at about $4 million.

26,486

The number of divorces filed in NYC in 2017. That was down from 27,622 in 2016. Meanwhile, New York state has one of the lowest divorce rates in the U.S. with 12.9 people per 1,000 divorcing in 2016 versus more than 20 per 1,000 in some states.

13M sq. ft.

The size of Macklowe Properties’ real estate portfolio. The holdings were in the spotlight in late 2017 during the developer’s divorce trial, which offered a look at his stakes in such high-profile NYC properties as 432 Park Avenue and One Wall Street.

9.5

The average number of months it takes for a divorce to unfold in NYC. But that time can span from four to 24 months, depending on whether it’s a “no fault” split, whether there are child custody issues and how complex the portfolio of assets is. By comparison, the national average is 11 months.

$17,100

The average bill for getting divorced in NYC, which usually costs between $5,000 and $37,000. That’s 34 percent higher than the national average and includes more than $13,000 in attorneys’ fees, as well as the cost of mediation and expert witnesses, including real estate appraisers.

$500M

The value of the 377-foot yacht Russian oligarch Farkhad Akhmedov was ordered to give his ex-wife by a UK court in April. In 2016, a judge awarded Tatiana Akhmedova a nearly $590 million settlement, including a roughly $27 million country house. The sum, more than 40 percent of Akhmedov’s fortune, was one of Britain’s all-time largest divorce settlements.

$335

The cost of filing the paperwork for an uncontested divorce. That’s what Vanessa Trump did in March when she filed against Don Jr. But that doesn’t mean that the two — who were married for 12 years and have five children — won’t pay lawyers handsomely to help divide their properties and assets.

70%

The number of U.S. divorces that involve divvying up property, according to a guesstimate by Starks. Though no national numbers are available, Starks said that in California alone, she’s personally handled over $150 million in property sales related to divorce.

from The Real Deal Miami https://therealdeal.com/issues_articles/the-business-of-breaking-up/#new_tab via IFTTT

[juditmiltz]

The business of breaking up

(Illustration by Neil Webb)

Rudy and Judi. Harry and Linda. Don Jr. and Vanessa. They’re all household names in New York City, and they’ve all called their marriages quits in the last year.

And with those divorces — along with the thousands of others in NYC every year — come battles not just over money, but also over real estate. While that almost always entails divvying up properties, it can also mean liquidating them, which when ordered by a judge offers little flexibility.

“It’s like trying to predict the market in a crystal ball,” said Douglas Elliman’s Howard Margolis, referring to the difficulty of advising a splitting couple that’s “under duress.”

Margolis said it’s also key to ensure that word of the divorce doesn’t leak to potential buyers who will smell a discount if they learn of a split.

These deals can be so complicated that one Los Angeles-based agent recently launched the Divorce Real Estate Institute to train brokers on handling them.

“They expose the real estate professional to additional liability,” DREI’s founder, Laurel Starks, recently told The Real Deal. “The family law community needs more real estate agents who are trained and versed in family law to minimize conflict, maximize profits, and to do it from a fair, unbiased place.”

Here’s a look at some key divorce stats, as well as some of the real estate portfolios that have recently been in the spotlight via dissolving marriages.

3

The number of times Rudy Giuliani has been married. His third wife, Judith, filed for a contested divorce in April. The couple own two South Florida condos worth roughly $4 million, a $5.3 million condo at 45 East 66th Street and a Hamptons house valued at about $4 million.

26,486

The number of divorces filed in NYC in 2017. That was down from 27,622 in 2016. Meanwhile, New York state has one of the lowest divorce rates in the U.S. with 12.9 people per 1,000 divorcing in 2016 versus more than 20 per 1,000 in some states.

13M sq. ft.

The size of Macklowe Properties’ real estate portfolio. The holdings were in the spotlight in late 2017 during the developer’s divorce trial, which offered a look at his stakes in such high-profile NYC properties as 432 Park Avenue and One Wall Street.

9.5

The average number of months it takes for a divorce to unfold in NYC. But that time can span from four to 24 months, depending on whether it’s a “no fault” split, whether there are child custody issues and how complex the portfolio of assets is. By comparison, the national average is 11 months.

$17,100

The average bill for getting divorced in NYC, which usually costs between $5,000 and $37,000. That’s 34 percent higher than the national average and includes more than $13,000 in attorneys’ fees, as well as the cost of mediation and expert witnesses, including real estate appraisers.

$500M

The value of the 377-foot yacht Russian oligarch Farkhad Akhmedov was ordered to give his ex-wife by a UK court in April. In 2016, a judge awarded Tatiana Akhmedova a nearly $590 million settlement, including a roughly $27 million country house. The sum, more than 40 percent of Akhmedov’s fortune, was one of Britain’s all-time largest divorce settlements.

$335

The cost of filing the paperwork for an uncontested divorce. That’s what Vanessa Trump did in March when she filed against Don Jr. But that doesn’t mean that the two — who were married for 12 years and have five children — won’t pay lawyers handsomely to help divide their properties and assets.

70%

The number of U.S. divorces that involve divvying up property, according to a guesstimate by Starks. Though no national numbers are available, Starks said that in California alone, she’s personally handled over $150 million in property sales related to divorce.

from The Real Deal Miami https://therealdeal.com/issues_articles/the-business-of-breaking-up/#new_tab via IFTTT