Rocky Road & Revenge by Erin Huss

Author:Erin Huss [Huss, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gemma Halliday Publishing
Published: 2018-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

See also: Garbage Man

And I was right.

"Strong winds expected to blast Southern California today," the local newscaster announced during the Early Morning Show. "Winds or gusts of 35 mph are anticipated, making travel difficult and causing possible widespread power outages. High wind advisory in effect until 5:00 PM!" He flashed a megawatt smile and performed his signature fist pump.

This is why I don't watch the news.

I slid open the blinds and gazed out the window. All I saw was trash. So. Much. Trash. Fast-food containers, flyers, receipts, debris, soda cans. Trash scattered across the grass. Trash in the walkways. Trash in the pool. Trash stuck in the trees. The trash can itself had blown over. A tumbleweed rolled by.

A tumbleweed!

We lived in the middle of the city. Where did a tumbleweed come from? Dorothy and Toto should be here any minute, I thought.

My original plan for the day—let's call it Plan A—consisted of Lilly and me going for a stroll through the property, to be sure all was in order. Which of course it would be because this was Plan A. I'd skim over reports and wipe down my desk. After, we'd go to Noah's Bakery down the street and purchase half-a-dozen fresh-from-the-oven bagels, along with three different types of cream cheese (strawberry, regular, and chive) because options were important. We'd then swing by Trader Joe's for a spring arrangement of roses and Peruvian lilies. Come eleven I'd have the bagels stacked on a glass platter in the middle of my kitchen table (because we no longer had a lobby), along with the variety of cheeses and small bottles of water with Elder Property Management labels on them, 'cause in Plan A I was crafty. The flowers would be in a glass vase next to the brochures. I'd be sitting at my desk, with my ankles crossed, wardrobe pristine, smile in place, like a wild-haired June Cleaver, very much the perfect hostess.

Plan A blew away.

Moving on.

Plan B: Run like a mad woman through the property to be sure there were no obvious infractions. Pick up as much trash as possible. Deliver Three-Day Notices to those who had yet to pay rent.

Should that go south, there was always Plan C: Fake my death to get out of the meeting.

At least I had options.

Tom actively avoided eye contact for the rest of the morning.

Whatever.

There was a golf cart with my name on it.

Once Tom and Lilly left, it was time to get to work. Equipped with a trash bag in one hand and my Three-Day Notices in the other, I ventured out into the wind and—wowza! Good thing I had the extra pounds to keep me anchored, or I'd be flying over Santa Monica. Einstein broke loose and swirled around in front of my face, sticking to my glossed lips and poking at my eyeballs.

In the first courtyard, Daniella was on all fours again, examining the lawn. Her glasses were on the tip of her nose, lips pursed, nose scrunched, dark hair flying, little fingers parting blades of grass.

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