by Lotta Smith
Okay, so, before my engagement to Rick became official, I did my homework by reading books like The Right Address. When I read them, I kept on rolling my eyes but I used to believe that mean girls only existed in Upper East Side. Rick’s condo on Fifth Avenue was in Midtown, so I wasn’t that much concerned about people being very mean to me.
Apparently, just because I didn’t live in Upper East Side didn’t mean I was free from being the topic—no, target was more like the word—of mean gossips. Holy hell, they should really ban people gossiping at the powder room. Every mayhem and tragedy has roots in gossiping, and I had a hunch anyone who managed to keep the world free of gossip should be entitled to win Nobel Peace Prize.
Not that I didn’t think the Peace Prize was overrated. Not to mention the gossip ban didn’t seem to bode well with the freedom of speech.
In my head, I was seriously plotting a scheme to ambush the mean girls. I could sneak out of the stall with a wad of shredded toilet roll, then I’d shower the pieces of paper that was previously torn with unwashed hands, and then I’d tell them I forgot to mention that I had a case of really nasty infection which was going to make whoever touched my germs turn purple and bloat like a marshmallow man.
In the spur of fury, I was almost completely focused on my project, but as I kept on shredding the toilet roll, then I wondered if Rick would be upset in case I was involved in a trouble. I thought for a while, and then reached a conclusion that probably my fiancé was going to love to have a little piece of havoc. When he was with the FBI, I was assigned him as an assistant, and most of my mission was to keep him from wrecking a havoc. He wasn’t a lover of social luncheons and charity meetings, but no thanks to being the heir of USCAB, he had some obligations to follow.
As I kept on shredding toilet paper, I caught new footsteps, most likely coming in high heels.
“Oh, no. It’s so pathetic that eligible men nowadays are totally lacking the eye for beauty.” Kayla was still cackling when that person came in, and Mia was agreeing, “So true!”
“Hello, ladies,” said the newcomer at the powder room. “Gossiping?” She sounded older than other women.
“Oh yes, Mrs. Rosenberg. We’ve been talking about Rick Rowling.” Mia filled her in.
“Can you believe he’s marrying that Mindy the chubby hillbilly?” Kayla snarled. Not that I was able to see her facial expressions but I could easily picture her lips curling.
“You mean, Mandy?” Mrs. Rosenberg said. “Actually, I heard nice things about her. There’s this rumor that she saved that girl—Julie, the little princess of Dr. Greys—when she was kidnapped.”
“Are you sure?” Mia asked skeptically.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Hmm… maybe that makes her a good employee at the Rowlings’ firm. Then again, that doesn’t make her a suitable wife, does it?”
“Kayla’s so right,” Mia said. “Anything doesn’t change Mindy’s status being an outsider. Also, I heard she used to be Rick’s assistant.”
“Okay then, she’s probably good at things like domestic help does. Perhaps Rick is smart. Marry a former maid who does all the chores and save money to hire help.”
Mrs. Rosenberg cleared her throat. “I can see you’re not fond of her, but I don’t recommend judging people without knowing them. Just like you can’t judge books by the covers.”
“Still, people do judge books by the covers,” Kayla snorted.
“Unfortunately, I have to agree with you,” Mrs. Rosenberg said. “Anyway, now I can see why Rick chose Mandy as his mate. She doesn’t look like an anorexic model, but at least, I’ve never heard her bad-mouthing about people she doesn’t even know. Also, I heard she went to medical school which makes her a very intelligent young lady.”
“Oh…” mumbled the mean girls, and I didn’t need to peek from the door slit to see them rolling their eyes.
“Anyway, jealousy is an evil monster which makes you ugly, lets your good fortune slip between your fingers. I can imagine you ladies had huge crushes on Rick, but it’s healthier to just congratulate the young couple and move on. As they say there are a million of fishes in the pond, there are a gazillion of eligible bachelors out there.”
As I heard Mrs. Rosenberg’s words, I started to feel embarrassed about scheming a nasty retaliation. So I tossed the shredded toilet paper into the water.
“Well…” Mia mumbled something incomprehensible. “It was lovely talking to you, Mrs. Rosenberg. See you later, ciao!”
Then I heard two pairs of over $1000 heels clicking the marble floor and out of the place.
* * *
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About the author
Hi! My name is Lotta Smith. I’m the author of Paranormal in Manhattan Mysteries and Kelly Kinki Mysteries. I love everything comedy, from novels, TVs, to movies. In my teenage days, I was addicted to mysteries that involves amateur sleuth duo of a hot male professor and a quirky female student—with a light touch of romance sprinkled on top. So I went to medical school, partly because I wanted to see real dead bodies, and mostly because I was determined to meet sexy professors (specializing forensic pathology, perhaps) and go a-sleuthin’.
I got to see dead bodies and learn about the danger of petting zoos (sometimes, kids have their lips bitten off by…say, a pony!) but unfortunately, sexy professors were absolutely nonexistent. Recently, I realized that I’m a hopeless unromantic.
I’m hard at work writing new books.
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And… keep on reading for the beginning of the next book, Speak of the Wicked, which will be coming soon!
Books by Lotta Smith
Paranormal in Manhattan Mysteries: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H7LHR31
PI Assistant Extraordinaire Mysteries:
Book 1: Ghostly Murder: http://amzn.to/204aWJ4
Book 2: Immortal Eyes: http://amzn.to/1T4DKC3
Book 3: Deadly Vision: http://amzn.to/1og0Pp9
Also, there’s a bundle of 3 books available…
Confessions of the Assistant Extraordinaire: amzn.to/1R3GaO6
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XOXO, Lotta Smith
