Page 19 of Resting Grump Face
I added the life-sized cardboard cutout of Gordon Ramsey that I stole from an event once upon a time. There’s just something about that scowling face of his. He stands in the corner, silently judging my taste in decor, and, from time to time, my questionable cooking skills.
The bed takes up most of the space, but it's nestled in a corner with string lights draped overhead, creating a cozy ambiance that makes it really hard to get out of bed. A pile of books and a laptop sit on the nightstand, hinting at my insatiable thirst for knowledge and/or inability to say no to second-hand books at the flea-market (at least back when I still had money to spend).
It’s not organized, but it is clean. It’s also slightly too small, which really just makes it cozier. I put my suitcase in the cornerto unpack later and take a quick shower. Then I consider taking a nap, but decide against it to swing by Paige and Guy Turner’s place. They live across the hall, and I really need to check up on them and my cat. The door flies open just when I’m about to knock.
“Sienna! So good to have you back, and impeccable timing too,” Guy says with excitement, and then hands me Chairman Meow, the cat Olivia and I have shared custody over. “We were just about to head out.”
“We’ve got some good intel that our mark is about to meet his mistress. You coming along, dear?” Paige echoes from inside the apartment, where keys and canes are clanking.
“What mark? What intel? What mistress?” I ask and greet my beloved cat, who seems woefully uninterested in my returning. “I told you not to do anything without me. You could get yourself in trouble. Remember the alpacas?”
Guy shakes his head with a little frown and puts a leash on the Chairman as I hold him. “We’re just going on a stake-out, and the only thing that’s dangerous about stake-outs is the risk of obesity.” He kicks the bag next to him, which, from the sound of it, is filled to the brim with snacks and candy and cans of lemonade.
“Plus, we do plenty ofphysical exercise,” Paige adds with a wink as she appears behind her ex-husband and current roommate. “For preventative reasons. It’s good to stay active in old age, you know.”
The Chairman and I share a quick glance, and, after we have established that my 80-something-year-old neighbors are getting more action than I do, I quickly slip into my apartment, throw a few useful things in a bag, put on some thermal underwear and sweatpants, and head down to the garage where Earnest and Robyn are already waiting for us.
Over the last few days the weather has considerably improved, and it looks like winter is all but over. Summer may not be quite around the corner yet, but at least the snow seems to be done for now. Earnest dressed appropriately in a thick coat and deerstalker hat, while Robyn looks like the femme fatale that she, despite her somewhat advanced age, still is. Everything about her screams leading role in a thriller. It’s just not entirely clear whether she is the villain or the heroine.
All six of us, Paige and Guy, Robyn and Earnest, the Chairman and I, climb into the van that is usually used to drive people to and from the doctor, and we head out into the chill evening air.
My grandma and the four of them were inseparable when she was still alive, and they helped me a great deal following her death two years ago. Afterwards, it just sort of happened that I took over my grandma’s role in their little senior squad, though us having ‘intel’ about ‘marks’ is a somewhat recent development that I don’t fully agree with. I’d prefer for them to stick to baking cookies and losing at bingo, but that’s something those four are usually not all that interested in.
“So, can someone please tell me who ‘the mark’ is and why we have ‘intel’ about some ‘mistress’?” I ask, still more clueless than I’d like to be.
“Guy Ulysses Turner! Slow down! The streets could be slippery,” Paige berates our driver, who is probably going 10 mph under the speed limit with no actual chance of icy roads. She turns on the heater and swivels in the passenger seat to face the rest of us. “Earnest intercepted Dome’s messages. You know, the CEO of Harmony Inc., Dicky Dome? We are fairly certain he’s about to meet his mistress at some place called Whiskey Business. Hopefully, for some frisky time, which might give us the opportunity to take photographic evidence of their affair.”
So they’re planning on blackmailing the CEO of the company that owns our apartments?
“Do tell, Earny, how were you able to accomplish such a feat?” Robyn addresses Earnest, and pulls a small gun out of her bag, shakes it once, then stuffs it back.
“Data leak,” he answers matter of fact while keeping a straight face, as if pulling guns out of your purse is a perfectly normal thing to do. “The mistress uses the same password for everything. Took less than ten minutes to gain access.”
“Robyn,” I interject, “what the hell was that?”
“Oh, gosh, yes. Scary, isn’t it?” She turns to me with a sly gleam in her eyes. “Here, I got one for you too. It’s not loaded though.” She pulls out another gun and tosses it in my lap.
I shriek, carefully reach for the weapon, and, only after thorough inspection, realize that it’s a strikingly authentic-looking water gun. I take a deep breath and relax again. Usually, I’m not easily startled but I’m no fan of guns, though, I guess, I would have been even more freaked out by a big knife.
“Nifty, don’t you think?” Robyn asks excitedly. “I got a guy…”
“What was that?” Guy shouts from the front and adjusts the volume on his hearing aid.
“Not you!” Robyn answers. “I got a gun guy. Gun! Anyway,” she turns back to me, “you can use Earnest’s latrine bottle for ammunition.”
“Oh, thanks,” I answer and inspect the toy weapon in my hand. “I wasn’t really planning on, uh, pissing anyone off today, though.”
“It’s merely a safety precaution,” Robyn explains sagely. “You always say we’re being too reckless.”
It’s true, I do say that. And considering that they once planned on abducting the owner of analpaca farm when they found out he was mistreating the animals, I am inclined to say that I am right. It’s like old people at some point in their life justlose the ability of self-preservation, which makes it my job to look out for them.
Brandishing authentic looking guns certainly does not help that impression. Neither does their plan of secretly photographing a cheating CEO. With normal seniors, you might be worried about them hurting themselves by tripping or slipping, but with my friends here, I am more worried about them making someone else slip.
It is dark outside by now. The city is illuminated by thousands of streetlights and an exceptionally bright moon above, which might come in handy if we have to take pictures outside, I think to myself.
I guess I am already on board with their plan.
It might just work. Canceling an eviction would be a small price for him to pay in order to save his marriage.
