at any moment. We clean the kitchen together, and just as he’s about to go outside, again, we see through the window an army of golf carts drive up to the house. Women in yoga pants get out, holding boxes bursting with streamers and other decorations.
Oh my God. My Kinkos run worked.
“What did you do?” Thor growls at me, as if he has Spidey sense.
“Oh my God, I’m Warren Buffet,” I announce. “I’m a master of industry. It worked! I’m going to get out of here soon.”
I bolt for the door. “What did you do?” Thor shouts after me.
CHAPTER 6
“Don’t set up there, Tiffany! The kids will fall over the cliff!”
“But think of the pictures! Gorgeous views!”
“We’ll go in back. There’s picnic tables there, too!”
Without asking me or Thor, they decide on the spot where Thor was trimming trees for their event. There’s a lot of hair extensions going on, in addition to the yoga pants. So far, I’ve counted four Tiffanys and three Brittanys and the rest of the yoga pant, and hair extension women have gender neutral names like Devyn, Jordyn, Terri, and Bud. They’re buzzing around like bees with bags of tulle and rolls of crepe paper and a pile of Congratulations! banners.
“Hello, I’m Beryl,” I say, putting my hand out as a Brittany walks by. Before I can shake her hand, I’m pulled roughly from the collar of my shirt, and I fall backward into Thor’s hands. He turns me around and grips my shoulders, leaning down so that our faces are nearly touching.
“What did you do?” he demands.
“Nothing. How dare you?” I say, swatting Thor’s hands off of me. Bud approaches and hands me the flyer I made today at Kinkos and a check for three-hundred-dollars. “Thank you!” I exclaim, giving her an impetuous kiss on her flawless cheek, which is coated with a half-inch thick layer of natural minerals foundation that I would kill to own. I wave the check at Thor in triumph. Three hundred dollars. Wow. I think about all the things I can buy with it. I wonder how much a Fiat costs. Or new flip-flops.
“What is that? What is this? What’s happening?” Thor demands, like the world has tipped on its axis, and he can’t hold on.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you your share. How about ten percent?” I fold the check and put it under my bra strap, just like I’m a star in a movie from the 1930s. Bud follows the other women, who are carrying folding chairs to the now infamous bed warmer area. “It’s a good thing you trimmed those trees, right?” I say to Thor and head in their direction.
He runs after me. “What’s going on? What did you do? What’s the check about? What are they doing?”
“I’m making this place make money now. If we can’t use the house, we’ll use the grounds. This is the first event.”
“What event?”
“I don’t know,” I say, truthfully. “Maybe something about yoga with folding chairs.”
“Beryl, this wasn’t our agreement.”
I keep walking, trying to ignore him as much as possible. “I didn’t agree to anything. I inherited half of this dump, and we need to make it profitable so that you can buy me out. This is step one.”
I sound so professional and smart that I impress myself. Take that, world. Beryl Meyer is a smart businesswoman. We reach up to the group of yoga pants, and I offer to help set up whatever it is that they’re setting up.
One of the Tiffanys hands me a folding chair. “It’s the Summer Island Happy Elementary School Kindergarten graduation ceremony and celebration,” she explains. “The school was flooded this morning when Janice Lessing’s sensory deprivation tank sprang a leak in the auditorium. Luckily, Brittany K. saw your flyer in the window at the Click-Clack Tappers store.”
“Your flyer?” Thor asks.
“A kindergarten graduation,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. “That’s great for word-of-mouth. We’ll get the wholesome, family vote.”
Thor shakes his head. “We’re not running
Oh my God. My Kinkos run worked.
“What did you do?” Thor growls at me, as if he has Spidey sense.
“Oh my God, I’m Warren Buffet,” I announce. “I’m a master of industry. It worked! I’m going to get out of here soon.”
I bolt for the door. “What did you do?” Thor shouts after me.
CHAPTER 6
“Don’t set up there, Tiffany! The kids will fall over the cliff!”
“But think of the pictures! Gorgeous views!”
“We’ll go in back. There’s picnic tables there, too!”
Without asking me or Thor, they decide on the spot where Thor was trimming trees for their event. There’s a lot of hair extensions going on, in addition to the yoga pants. So far, I’ve counted four Tiffanys and three Brittanys and the rest of the yoga pant, and hair extension women have gender neutral names like Devyn, Jordyn, Terri, and Bud. They’re buzzing around like bees with bags of tulle and rolls of crepe paper and a pile of Congratulations! banners.
“Hello, I’m Beryl,” I say, putting my hand out as a Brittany walks by. Before I can shake her hand, I’m pulled roughly from the collar of my shirt, and I fall backward into Thor’s hands. He turns me around and grips my shoulders, leaning down so that our faces are nearly touching.
“What did you do?” he demands.
“Nothing. How dare you?” I say, swatting Thor’s hands off of me. Bud approaches and hands me the flyer I made today at Kinkos and a check for three-hundred-dollars. “Thank you!” I exclaim, giving her an impetuous kiss on her flawless cheek, which is coated with a half-inch thick layer of natural minerals foundation that I would kill to own. I wave the check at Thor in triumph. Three hundred dollars. Wow. I think about all the things I can buy with it. I wonder how much a Fiat costs. Or new flip-flops.
“What is that? What is this? What’s happening?” Thor demands, like the world has tipped on its axis, and he can’t hold on.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you your share. How about ten percent?” I fold the check and put it under my bra strap, just like I’m a star in a movie from the 1930s. Bud follows the other women, who are carrying folding chairs to the now infamous bed warmer area. “It’s a good thing you trimmed those trees, right?” I say to Thor and head in their direction.
He runs after me. “What’s going on? What did you do? What’s the check about? What are they doing?”
“I’m making this place make money now. If we can’t use the house, we’ll use the grounds. This is the first event.”
“What event?”
“I don’t know,” I say, truthfully. “Maybe something about yoga with folding chairs.”
“Beryl, this wasn’t our agreement.”
I keep walking, trying to ignore him as much as possible. “I didn’t agree to anything. I inherited half of this dump, and we need to make it profitable so that you can buy me out. This is step one.”
I sound so professional and smart that I impress myself. Take that, world. Beryl Meyer is a smart businesswoman. We reach up to the group of yoga pants, and I offer to help set up whatever it is that they’re setting up.
One of the Tiffanys hands me a folding chair. “It’s the Summer Island Happy Elementary School Kindergarten graduation ceremony and celebration,” she explains. “The school was flooded this morning when Janice Lessing’s sensory deprivation tank sprang a leak in the auditorium. Luckily, Brittany K. saw your flyer in the window at the Click-Clack Tappers store.”
“Your flyer?” Thor asks.
“A kindergarten graduation,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. “That’s great for word-of-mouth. We’ll get the wholesome, family vote.”
Thor shakes his head. “We’re not running
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