Rita Lakin_Gladdy Gold_01 Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lola.
    We are always on our best behavior with our northern
visitors.
    Sophie, who reads the end of every novel first because
she can't stand the suspense, pushes forward. "So, alright already,
what did Kronk write?"
    Hy beams from ear to ear, emoting dramatically. "'Mary,
Mary, quite contrary. Kick him out. Your John's a fairy.'"
    Conversation comes to an immediate halt.
    Bella is the first to recover. In her own inimitable way
of thinking, she's gleefully made a connection. She delicately wiggles
her hand to get our attention. "Is that why he always wears pink?"

    Back to my car. I jump in and quickly crank up the air.
Ida gets in, and I wait to hear what she will say. She never
disappoints me. "Glad, turn down the air! You want me to freeze?"
    "Get in already," Evvie says. "I'm melting out here."
    "Now where are you beauties off to?" a melodious voice
wafts down the sidewalk towards us.
    Oh, oh. From Hy's frying pan into Leo's fire. It's Mr.
Leo Slezak, aka Mr. Sleaze, waving at us. That's mine and Evvie's name
for this real-estate entrepreneur and slimeball. A not-too-bad-looking
man, fifty-ish, if you like his type. Dapper in an oily sort of way. He
favors creased white linen suits, Panama hats angled rakishly across
his forehead. And a lot of gold chains.
    He's standing with Tessie Hoffman, a hefty
two-hundred-fifty-pounder, best friend of the deceased Selma Beller,
and fellow Weight Watchers dropout. We all like Tessie because she can
make fun of herself. If we ask what she's had for lunch, she'll say
Shamu and fries. Like that. Selma's sudden death has devastated her.
    Like a shot, the girls are out of the car again, ready to
melt once more, but this time from Leo's baloney. Evvie and I cannot
stand this man, but most of the other females in Phase Two think he is
God's gift to women.
    "Why are you here today, Leo?" Sophie gurgles.
    "You, of course, know about Selma Beller. So sad. Well,
her children gave me the listing and Tessie, here, is giving me the key
to her apartment."
    At the mention of Selma's name, Tessie's eyes tear up.
She shakes her head and repeats her familiar litany. "She never even
got to open her birthday present."
    Smarmy Slezak pats her on the shoulder. "There, there,"
he says with his usual phony sentiment. He beams back at us. "I have a
couple of hot prospects coming this afternoon."
    I wonder how he gets those listings. Leo hasn't sold a
condo in over a year. More than a dozen units just stand empty. He
keeps moaning that business is bad. The snowbirds aren't buying much
anymore. There are bigger and fancier condos going up all over the
place, like the Wynmore or Hamilton House. If this keeps up, eventually
we'll all have our choice of graveyards--Beth Israel, across town, or
stay right here in our own apartments.
    I swear if I didn't know better, I'd think he stands near
the ambulance exit at the hospital and follows them when the sirens go
off. One of us dies and that embossed card is out of his pocket and
into the hands of a grieving relative faster than you can say "Escrow
is closed."
    "How do you ladies do it?" he says with that simpering
lisp. "How do you keep so fresh and beautiful in all this heat?"
    You don't want to hear their nauseatingly sweet answers.
It would make your stomach turn.
    Evvie leans over and honks the horn. "We have to go,
girls."
    Almost sighing, the three little twits begin backing away
from Leo, the lady-killer. Like a magician, Leo whips a hand into his
pocket and his cards instantly appear. His greatest fans take them
lovingly. Evvie and I keep our hands folded. He reaches toward us.
    "No, thanks. We already have a few dozen," Evvie says
with ice in her voice. My sister does sarcasm very well.
    Leo taps at the brim of his Panama and says what he
always says: "Don't buy out the stores, ladies."

    And we are off. Thank God. I have such a headache
already. But as I drive through the wrought-iron gates out onto Oakland
Park Boulevard, I think once more about Selma's