We all pause and turn as a pair of cars pulls through the gates and comes to a stop behind our rented van. I guess if we're going to be hanging around L.A. for awhile, I'm going to have to buy something to drive. Hmm. I wonder briefly about our buses, still stuck back in Oklahoma City. Wonder when we'll be getting those back and what we're going to do with them once we do. Next time we tour, we're going to have to change up our travel pattern a little. I shudder at the thought. It's going to take some time to get comfortable with the idea again.
I lean back and cross my arms over my chest, waiting as people pile out of the two cars. I dressed in my best, in an Amatory Riot T-shirt with no holes, a pair of new jeans that Milo found time to shove in my bag God only knows when. Hair's done, eyeliner's on, face is shaved. We're all good to go.
A curvy brunette appears from the backseat of one of the vehicles, dark hair shining in the sunlight. Her navy skirt suit and confident smirk give me the distinct impression that she is the current owner of this house. What she does or where she's from, I'm not sure, but to afford a place like this, she must be badass.
“Good morning everyone,” she says, sweeping her hands down the front of her perfect suit and smiling a perfect Beverly Hills smile – all cosmetic sterility and disingenuousness. I follow the swing of her gaze as she skips over Josh, arms crossed and scowling near our rented van, to Jesse, Trey, Turner, and then finally coming to rest on my face. I drop my cigarette and crush it out while she stares at me, brown eyes sparkling. She's a beautiful woman but I can see from the neutral shade of her eyeshadow, the conservative cut of her skirt, the pale almond color of her hair, all of it is meant to de-sexualize her, give her a more average sort of a look. I'm immediately on my guard. The only other person I've met in my life like this was America Harding.
I grit my teeth and cross my arms over my chest.
“Hey baby,” Turner says, flipping the charm switch to high. He must really want this fucking house. Brunette lady drags her gaze from me and back to my friend, switching up her dazzling white grin to the next level.
“Let me just be the first to say that you gentlemen have excellent taste in real estate.” Turner lifts his chin with a smirk while I get out another cigarette and roll my eyes. This chick's bad news. I can tell already that whatever it is she's selling, I'm not buying. I look over at Lola, arms crossed over her chest and face pale. I need to get her to sit down and relax, have a fucking lemonade or something. “It's an honor to be able to meet with you in private like this. If you don't mind, I have a few little souvenirs I'd love for you to sign. Oh!” Brunette Lady grins and clasps her hands together. “I've forgotten to introduce myself. How silly.” She flips her hair and moves up to me, offering her hand and locking gazes. She knows I'm not buying her shit. Great.
I reach out and shake with her.
“Paulette Washington,” she says and warning bells go off in my head. I squeeze her hand tight and let go, taking a step back.
“Paulette Washington, like the TV producer?” I ask, raising an eyebrow as her smile ratchets up yet another notch. Huh. Didn't even think that was possible. I fucking hate California. Why did we even come back here? I take another drag on my cigarette and watch her carefully as she moves down the line and then comes back to Turner, dropping some keys into the palm of his hand before answering me.
“Keys to the kingdom, my friend,” she says and then levels her gaze on me again. “And yes, Ronnie, I'm flattered.” She touches a hand to her chest like she's not at all surprised. She wanted one of us to recognize her. In fact, she was counting on it. I was feeling suspicious about this whole transaction. I mean, it's not unheard of for a seller to let her buyers rent out the place before closing, but it's not usually this easy. Now I get it. This bitch wants something from us – something besides a few selfies and some swag. “In fact, I was thinking while we were all gathered here that I might discuss an idea I had with you.
Milo steps forward and straightens his pale pink tie, getting ready to step in and take control when Turner opens his big, fat mouth.
“TV producer? Huh? What shows you work on?” he asks and Paulette's eyes sparkle with triumph.
“Come inside,” she says and then pauses with a false laugh that makes my teeth hurt. Aw, man. We just got rid of one fake bitch, the last thing we need is another. Unfortunately for us, we're in Beverly Hills. That's pretty much what the entire city is populated with. “I mean, it's your house now, so if that's okay?” Turner shrugs before I get a chance to protest and spins on his heel, glancing up at the imposing facade of our new place with a sniffle of approval.