Page 83 of Trailer Park Billionaire
I blink, glancing around the room. It looks like everyone I invited to my grandpa’s birthday is here. Robyn, his former girlfriend. Sienna too. And even Elaine, who winks at me when our eyes meet. Everyone is exchanging knowing smiles. Ben, standing beside me with his hand protectively on my back, looks suspiciously pleased with himself.
“You did this?” I whisper, leaning into him.
He grins, his nose brushing against my ear. “Guilty as charged.”
A buzzer sounds. “Inmate Benedikt Lyon,” the voice calls out, “another word from you, and I’ll have you thrown into solitary confinement. And you should know that solitary confinement is just the men’s toilet, which—I have it on good authority—has not been cleaned in ages.”
Ben raises his hands and then silently zips his lips.
“Okey-dokey,” the voice continues, “let’s get to it. We have three trials to pass before we can escape. If we fail, we’re doomed to spend eternity here—trapped in a cell of our own incompetence.” The southern sounding gentleman sneezes again but recovers quickly. “Well, you guys are. Paige and I can leave whenever we want.”
One of the beds squeaks when Sienna helps Robyn to sit down.
“Round one,” the anonymous voice announces. “Obscure trivia about our friend Eddy. Get a question wrong, and you’re off to solitary.”
“Sounds like Guy’s improvising now,” Ben whispers in my ear just as a bright light, coming from behind the bars, sweeps across the room.
“Question one: What did Ed claim was the greatest scam he ever pulled?”
Without hesitation, I raise my hand. The spotlight stops on me, and I begin to speak. “Painting a photorealistic tunnel on the wall of his cell to make the guards think Art and he escaped.”
Arthur nods decidedly, with a giant smile on his face, before a‘Ding’sounds over the speakers.
The room erupts into cheers, and I let out a breath, my chest tightening… in a good way this time.
This is ridiculous. It’s absurd. But it’s also… the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.
“Question two,” the voice—which apparently belongs to someone named Guy—continues. “What was the line that Ed used to finally win over his girlfriend, Robyn?”
“Oh, oh,” Sienna waves her hand through the air, catching the attention of the spotlight. “He said something like: I could fall for you right now… but at my age, I might not get back up.”
Robyn nods with a pained smile. “That is correct. Who would have thought that he was not only a great guy but also a halfway-decent psychic?”
An involuntary huff escapes my nose, a laugh catches on the lump in my throat, and my vision blurs slightly. I swallow hard, trying to hold it together. “He practiced that line for days,” I say. “It was either that or, uh…I’ve got a walker and a bad hip, but if you let me, I’ll do my best to sweep you off your feet anyway.”
Now Robyn chimes in with a laugh. “Well, I’m glad he went with the former. The old grump would have just given me a bad hip as well.”
The room laughs along with us, and the atmosphere shifts—from sad, to somber, to joyful—as we make it through question after question without missing a single one.
Eventually, the voice announces round two. “Testimony time. Each prisoner must tell a tale of Ed Frame.” Guy blows his nose. “Bonus points for flair,” he sniffles.
One of my grandpa’s friends talks about how they got so drunk they accidentally tried to climb into a hearse, thinking it was a taxi. Art recounts the time he and grandpa convinced an entire prison block that Tuesday was actually Wednesday. And I use my testimony to thank everyone for coming again. Grandpa may not have wanted a proper funeral, but I think he would have loved this. I make sure his friends know.
The last person to speak is Ben, who hasn’t left my side this entire time. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the flashlight aimed straight at his face. “I never actually got to know Ed,” he says and then elaborates, “which is a shame, because anyone who manages to raise a granddaughter even half as strong, and independent, and lovable as Helena must’ve been one hell of a guy.”
From the back, where Sienna stands, there’s a collective‘Ohhh’sound. Next to her, it seems like Elaine is sobbing a little as well. I guess it’s an emotional day for all of us, because my heart squeezes too and one or two tears spill before I can stop them. Ben’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently. I squeeze back.
The spotlight disappears, followed by a beat of silence. Then, the sound of glass clinking against steel echoes. A pair of old hands passes two shot glasses filled with a green liquid through the bars. Ben rushes over, accepts them, and begins handing them out to everyone in the room. The floating hands keep passing drinks until everyone’s been served.
The speakers creak, and a loud sneeze makes me jump a little.
“Sorry,” Guy apologizes. “This brings us to round three of today’s prison escape: the toast. Let us all raise a glass to one of the best men any of us have ever known.”
Everyone who’d been sitting until now rises and lifts their glass.
“Here’s to a man who proved that if you’re going to break the rules, you might as well do it beautifully. To Ed,” the old hand appears between the bars again, raising a glass along with us, “who finally signed his last work. Let’s hope God doesn’t check the carbon dating.”
People repeat my grandpa’s name, glasses clink, and everyone downs their shot in one go. When the burn of the absinthe finally fades, I open my eyes again—and stare right intothose of Ben. He’s across the room, smirking at my disgusted expression.
