Senior Year Box Set

I sent a text to Lexi to see if she was interested in helping me from LA. It was ridiculous for me to be teaching Scarlet how to be my PA when I would be gone in two months, and Lexi would be back. Besides, every time I thought of something I needed a PA for, my first instinct was to call Lexi.

I received a return message with a happy-face emoji. I assumed that meant ‘yes.’

So, I called her and told her I needed the contents of the condo sold.

“You don’t make it easy for me, do you?” Lexi complained.

“It only means you’ll have to get up in the middle of the night and call around. What else do you have to do on a Sunday night?”

“If I do this, will someone be around to meet them?”

“We planned to fly to Greece in the morning. I can hang out and take a later flight,” I said.

“Why not have Scarlet do it?” Lexi asked.

“I’ll do it.”

She apparently heard in my voice that I wouldn’t change my mind.

“Well, okay, then. At some point, you’ll have to tell me what happened. I’ll start by looking on the Internet to get a list of numbers.”

“Thanks. Oh, and two more things. Call my mom and let her know you’re on the job, and welcome back,” I said, and we hung up.

I didn’t feel like going out alone, so I decided to make some calls home and get some sleep.

◊◊◊ Monday March 27

In the morning, I came out of my bedroom and saw that everyone had their bags packed.

“The van will be here in a few minutes,” Paul said.

“Good. I’ve got some things I need to do. I’ll meet you all in Greece,” I said.

“What do you need to do?” Cindy asked.

“I came to an agreement to sell this condo last night. I’m meeting with estate sale agents to get the place cleaned out. That’s going to delay my departure.”

“I should probably do that for you,” Scarlet offered.

“This is your vacation. Go enjoy it,” I said.

She clearly was torn. I was still more than a little irritated about last night. I had to consciously work to suppress that anger to keep from going into a rant about last night.

“But …” Scarlet started.

“Have a safe trip. I’ll meet you there,” I said to all of them and turned to Paul. “You have the code to get into the condo?”

“Yes. Shouldn’t I stay?” he asked.

“I’ll stay right here; I’m not going anywhere else. What’s there to worry about? You were fine leaving me here last night without security,” I said.

I regretted saying that as soon as it came out.

“I’ll be fine,” I followed up to soften the blow.

“You sure?” Paul asked.

“Of course,” I said and turned around and walked back to my room.

When I heard them leave, I came back out and slipped out the back door. I’d spotted paparazzi out front and didn’t want them harassing me. Instead, I walked down a couple of houses before cutting back to the street, where I spotted an Italian bakery that looked busy. I figured that was a good sign.

I stood back and took in everything they had to offer. It all looked good. They had muffins, apple cream turnovers, both butter and chocolate croissants, and scones in every flavor imaginable. Then they had dessert items. I noticed several customers ordering date slices. I ordered a variety with the plan to offer them to the estate-sale people. The truth was, I would probably end up eating them all. I was on vacation, after all. To hell with my diet.

I got adventurous and ordered barley coffee. Rather than being steeped for flavor and then removed, the barley was added directly to the hot water to make a thicker drink. The person behind the counter suggested I add milk to it. What’s the best way to describe it? It was coffee-like but with a nutty, earthy, rich flavor from the roasted barley. I would drink it again, so I got a bag to go. The only downside was it lacked the caffeine kick that real coffee has.

I groaned as I exited the bakery. Someone had apparently tipped off the paparazzi. Maybe Beth was right. They seemed more like stalkers, so her calling them ‘stalkerazzi’ fit.

“Is it okay to take your picture?” one of them asked to make me smile.

“Bloody hell, you lot are useless,” one of them barked. “Is Lady Beth your latest conquest?”

“Yes, you can take my picture,” I said and started to walk home as I ignored the British contingent.

The obnoxious one tried to get me to stop to talk to them. He ran in front of me and blocked the sidewalk. When I tried to walk around him, he put his hand on my chest. My first thought was to make an example of him. If I hadn’t already made an ass out of myself when I decided they all must die, that is precisely what I would have done.

One of the nice ones had his phone to his ear.

“He’s calling the police. We are all witness to you being shoved,” one of the locals said.

The confused expressions on the UK guys’ faces were priceless.

“I’ll be inside if they need to talk to me,” I said and entered the condo.

Maybe I’d been hasty in sending Paul ahead with the others.

◊◊◊

The police were very helpful. They told me if I had any other problems to call them. They didn’t want their residents or guests to be harassed.