“Sounds good. I’m in.” Ashley frowned. “Hans probably won’t like that, though. He wants to be your manager.”
“I can have two managers. Besides, he’s already working with Dimefront. And I can pay him nothing too, to keep it fair.”
Ashley snort laughed. “See, that’s the kind of logic I need to accept employment.”
Sam lifted her fist for a bump. Ashley met it.
One of the paparazzi got close again. Ashley changed lanes, maneuvered between an American Furniture Warehouse delivery van and a semi so they couldn’t get a picture.
“You think they know we are going to a residential retirement home and not somewhere interesting?” Ashley asked.
“Nope.” Sam chuckled at that. Sam still kept her job there, while she figured out how to launch her new career. The residents demanded mozzarella sticks at every meal, in her honor.
They pulled into the circular drive at the Purple Peony, and Ashley stopped.
“Is Britney Spears inside shaving her hair?” Sam asked, stretching to look over all the cameras and paparazzi.
“I don’t think we have enough snacks for them all.” Ashley frowned.
“We have no snacks,” Sam pointed out.
“That’s what I just said.” Ashley frowned. “Well, I could call Hans and get some security, or I can park and we make a run for it.”
“I’ll get out of the car and see what happens?” Sam asked. Maybe they’d give her space so she could get through? That could work, right? She pushed open the door, but the cameras all started clicking and it got super intense. She quickly shut it. “Maybe not.”
“I think we have a solution,” Ashley said, nodding toward the door.
Babushka marched through the swarms, whacking the paparazzi out of the way with her cane like it wasn’t a big deal at all and just a normal day at the Purple Peony.
She moseyed to the back side door. “Vell, open it already.”
Sam unlocked it. Babushka climbed in.
“Let’s drive,” she said. Pointing her finger to the exit.
“Where to?” Ashley asked.
Good question, because it could’ve been Ottawa. Could’ve been Walgreens. Neither would’ve surprised Sam.
“Five minutes and then ve go back.”
All the paps had gotten out of their vehicles to take pictures. So when Sam and Ashley took off again, they had to scramble to get back inside.
“Let’s pull in here,” Babushka said, pointing to the parking lot of Pistol Polly’s Gentlemen’s Club.
“Sounds good to me.” Ashley pulled into the parking lot. A whole slew of paparazzi followed them.
“Now park there.” Babushka pointed to one of the pull-through spots. “Do not turn off the car, and you vait for my signal. Then you go, go, go!”
“All right.” Ashley gripped the steering wheel.
Sam waited, her heart beating a quick staccato in her chest.
The paparazzis all parked, hopped out of their cars, got into position to photograph Sam’s exit. Babushka pointed her finger ahead. “Now!”
Ashley squealed the tires, leaving a ton of rubber on the asphalt.
Babushka laughed like she’d just seen the funniest thing in her life. “They have to get back in their cars and start again.” She smacked her knees. “Next stop, Casa Bonita!”
