I’m debating which piece of sheet music to purchase when my phone chimes, loud enough I jump.
The Cronies have added an event to my calendar, no other info besides it’ll be with Sophia and take three hours of my afternoon a couple of weeks from today. I’m not only curious, I’m terrified—the grannies have gone digital.
Another chime follows, signaling there’s a Google alert to attend to, thank God.
But when I check out the alert and accompanying link, I promptly take back everything I’ve said about needing to stay busy. My pulse throbs at my temples, my stomach bottoms out, and dread rushes to fill the pit as I slowly read the headline again.
Florida man, seventy-seven, accused of erectile intent, caught selling misbranded, illegally obtained Viagra to fellow residents of Lakeview Retirement Village.
Ugh, I should’ve known the journalist for theHerald Sunhadn’t magically seen things my way and changed her tune. It’d be so nice if people would, but after the vitriol I’ve seen posted online from behind the safety of a screen and keyboard, not much surprises me.
With a groan, I read on, irritated but not surprised that Claudia Clickbait Caldwell leaped at the chance to drag the community through the mud. And, since I’m the one who lectured her and implied her remarks were ageist, I’m afraid I have only myself to blame.
This time she deliberately skirts that box, but the final sentence is the personal jab to my unsuspecting gut.
Whether you’re looking for an eternal summer or an enduring boner, Lakeview Village is the place to find it.
At the sound of a motorized whine, I panic, shuffling papers around my desk until I realize the bad news is on my phone screen. I’ve never wanted to punch an article so hard, and where did Claudia Caldwell get her training?TMZ?
Not that it matters. Whether or not Jan knows about it, I’m going to have to address it.
She was so happy about that other article and uptick in tours, too, and why hadn’t I reached out to more journalists?
Oh yeah, because I wanted the narrative spun and contained, not farmed out to outlets who might shine more light on the property before we’re ready for it.
It’s a lesson that everyone learns in the glare of the public eye, often under the worst of conditions and whether or not you think you’ve learned it already…
The media giveth, and the media taketh away.
…
By the time I trudge up the well-lit ramp to the Harris-Wagner abode, my exhaustion’s dimmed my earlier excitement. I’m peopled out from hours of making and fielding phone calls and conveying the situation to Jan. At one point, I even ended up talking to the FBI.
What even is my life right now?
In good news, the drugs are “misbranded” due to lack of a prescription rather than because they’re mystery meds that’ll do anything besides help get-it-up. Not the best, but not the worst, and did you know the Federal Bureau of Investigation gets called in when multiple jurisdictions are involved?
I need to get a handle on my sour attitude fast, because I’ve been looking forward to this evening ever since we picked out a dress for Arlene to wear on her date.
I just wish it wasn’t so hard to prevent work stress from spilling into the weekend.
Which my grandmothers have already booked solid for me.
They’ll be watching me like hawks to ensure I don’t spend it working, too, so I aim the pointy end of my ire directly where it belongs—at that hack reporter.
This is what she wants. For me to get all flustered and mad, so I’ll hand her the viral outburst she needs to blow up an active retirement community for extra clicks and views.Well, I won’t give her the satisfaction, and this night isn’t about her.
With a resolute nod, I knock on the door and let myself in, getting a mouthwatering whiff of dinner.
Doggies come running, nails tapping the tile and tongues lolled. The spirited Jack Russell Terrier is named Pepper, the sleek and sophisticated Maltese with a long white ponytail and giant pink bow, Bliss, and the newest member, Jon Lennon, the sheepdog with a tie-dye bandana.
“Hello, you guys! Who’s a good puppy?” I ask, my voice pitched high as I squat to pet their heads and let them sniff and lick me. “All of you?Yes, that’s what I thought.”
The aroma of roasting meat and spices causes a rumble in my tummy that immediately overtakes my other concerns—Vonetta’s making meatloaf, and hers is so delicious I apologize for ever turning my nose up at the dish.
I straighten, puppies still pawing at my ankles, to pause and listen. Raucous laughter and conversation lead me to the large bedroom at the back of the house, facing the water.
Vonetta, Bubbie Leora, and Wanda flank Arlene and discarded piles of clothing, fussing over her while my grandmother and Gertie are seated on the edge of the raised bed, legs swinging like they’re little kids.
