Page 20 of Resting Grump Face
We pull into a parking spot somewhere downtown. Despite it still being a chilly night, there seems to be a decent amount of people out and about. Whiskey Business is an upscale bar in an even more upscale area. The patrons that come and go are all dressed in suits and expensive-looking evening wear, kind of like what Ryker Grayson would probably wear.
I don’t know. I try not to think about it.
“So, I was mulling over our name again,” Guy says after he puts the car in park. “How do you like The Cool Kids Club? People will think we’re just silly kids. No one will suspect a bunch of geezers. It’s subterfuge, a ruse, a red herring.” He sounds thoroughly excited by his idea.
“Why would we need a name?” Paige shakes her head and pats her silver curls into place.
“Well, once we take down this rapscallion, the newspapers will want to know who is responsible and I think we should take control of the narrative from the get go. You know that. You used to be the best journalist this city has ever seen.”
Paige shoots him an annoyed glance. “We’re not taking down anyone. There will be no news involved. All we are going to do is make the evictions go away, and that’s it.”
Oh boy,I think to myself and scratch my little fur ball behind his ears. This was certainly not what I had imagined when I got up this morning. Then again, you hardly ever expect your 80-something-year-old friends to blackmail the rich CEO of the building complex you’re all living in.
Guy tries again. “What about 005 1/2? You know, like James Bond, but instead of seven, it’s the five of us plus Meow Meow.”
No one answers. Paige rolls her eyes while the rest of us are waiting for the crickets to chirp and our mark to arrive.
“Alright, alright,” he says, determined to maintain his good mood, as the perpetual optimist that he is. “Maybe it’s a little wordy. How about the O-Team? It’s like the A-Team, but instead of an A it’s an O, because we are: Oh, so awesome.”
Robyn laughs. “Old, you mean old, surely?”
“And a little odd,” I add.
Earnest nods, and, in familiar efficiency, calls for a vote. “All in favor of The O-Team?”
Guy slams his hand against the roof of the van.
Paige sighs and lifts her hand too. Earnest’s hand is up already. Robyn takes the Chairman’s paw and lifts it into the air as well. Then everyone stares at me.
“I guess the motion passes,” I relent and put my hand up. It doesn’t really matter. This will be the O-Team’s last case anyway. I can’t justify allowing my friends to put themselves in danger like this. “But,” I speak up so Guy can hear me as well, “Paige is right. We can tell no one about this, okay? We cannot speak to the press or anyone apart from the five and a half of us. Otherwise, we might get into some serious trouble.”
Back in their day, all of them had been active in one way or another. Paige Turner used to be an investigative journalist;Guy Turner, Paige’s ex-husband, was the spokesperson for a well-known animal’s rights group; Earnest Turner, or rather his alter-ego Angry-Amish-Man, was known for hacking right-wing websites and replacing all their content with cat pictures; and Robyn Banks… well, I am not entirely sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Robyn had been a con-woman in an earlier life.
Despite all of their expertise and skills, planning to blackmail one of the richest people in this city is not something any of them should be involved in.
“So, Sienna, with whom did you engage in amorous activities during the wedding celebration?” Robyn asks out of the blue and tilts her head at me.
8
SIENNA
“First of all, amorous activities? Really?” I ask, trying not to sound perplexed. “And, secondly, what? What are you talking about?” I continue, possibly more flustered than I’d like to admit.
“Hickey. Here.” She points at her own neck.
“Really?” I grab my throat a little shocked.
Robyn leans in closer, narrowing her eyes. “I guess not. It’s just a shadow.” She nods with a cunning smile. “I should really be wearing my glasses, but you might as well spill the beans now, since the cat is out of the bag anyway.” She gives the Chairman a wink.
Guy chimes in with a drawn out ‘Uhhh’and rubs his hands together. Earnest couldn’t care less and begins typing on his laptop. All the while, Paige is surveilling the entrance of Whiskey Business with a pair of binoculars.
“There are no beans to spill,” I say and try to shut this down before it can become an entire thing.
“Hm,” Paige pipes up to stab me in the back without averting her gaze from the bar. “Whenever someone claims there areno beans, there’s usually an entire English breakfast hidden somewhere.”
“The best investigative journalist in the city should know!” Robyn exclaims. “So, Sienna, spill the beans, exhibit the eggs, show us the sausage!”
The slew of terrible metaphors draws even Earnest’s attention, who looks up from his laptop with raised eyebrows, shakes his head exactly four times and then goes back to typing something on the keyboard.
