Gypped Read Online Free Page B

table. Even the sight of pigs in a blanket didn’t cheer her. Cartons of food and cases of wine covered most of the yellowed linoleum, which was a good thing. Where is everybody? she wondered. But she had an inkling.
    She walked across the creaky kitchen floor, tiptoed down the hallway, and took a quick peek around the corner. At the other end of the vast living room, standing in front of a grand fireplace, and below a portrait of a flapper doing the jitterbug, her assistant Norman was lecturing four people seated in folding chairs. Oh Norman, Zelda thought, lighten up. Lately it seemed that whenever he was dealing with people on her behalf, he became overbearing and did more harm than good. What’s with that? Here I am, a personal coach, trying to help people feel better about themselves, which in turn is supposed to make the world a better place, and I’ve got an aggravating assistant!
    Them’s the breaks, Zelda told herself, as she turned away and took a back staircase up to her bedroom. At the moment I’ve got more important things to worry about.
     
    “We have to make sure everything is perfect,” Norman repeated for the fourth time as he adjusted his bow tie and pushed back his horn-rimmed glasses. “Perfect perfect perfect.” He patted the back of his receding blond hair, as if to make sure it was still there.
    Since Zelda had received her unexpected windfall, the slim, slight, thirty-three-year old Norman had helped manage her life. He’d lived down the hall from Zelda in her old apartment building, and now often lay awake at night pondering his bad luck. There was no way he’d ever have offered to walk their elderly neighbor’s dog. The mutt had come bounding down the hall the day Norman moved in, and lifted his leg over a bag of Norman’s groceries. From that moment on, Norman ran away when he saw the dog, or his master, heading in his direction. Ran away from a fortune. Now Norman could often be seen in his neighborhood walking three or four dogs at once. Free of charge. Their owners were all senior citizens.
    Norman liked working for Zelda. But he wanted to find his own career. He had secretly started taking singing lessons after someone complimented his performance at a karaoke bar. His instructor told him he had a good voice, real potential, but he wondered if she said that to keep him coming back week in and week out. He cleared his throat unconsciously. “Don’t forget, always be polite to the guests, no matter how annoying they might seem. Polite but detached. Don’t engage in much chitchat. Remain unobtrusive while you do your job. After the hors d’oeuvres are passed, we’ll start the buffet, then coffee and dessert will be served. It will be a lovely party. Just what Miss Zelda wants.”
    His captive audience consisted of two young men and two young women, all aspiring actors. They were relying on theirtraining to act interested. The boss was telling them what they already knew.
    Maggie, a character actress who had worked at numerous parties all over Los Angeles, could barely keep from groaning. Miss Zelda? she thought with disgust. Give me a break. It’s going to be a long night. I’ve only been here ten minutes and this nerd in his tweed jacket and dorky shoes is already getting on my nerves. And what’s with this place? The bright red living room was probably grand in its day but needs a lift. Like what everyone in Hollywood over the age of twelve gives their face. No wonder the owners of this house donated it to charity for a week. They’ll take a writeoff for their generousity, claiming the rental would have been worth a good twenty grand. What a racket.
    “Any questions?” Norman asked. “Any anything?”
    Maggie raised her hand. “The sorbet must be melting by now,” she said in a stage whisper, pointing to the kitchen.
    Norman flinched. “We wouldn’t want to have that happen now, would we?”
    “No,” Maggie answered solemnly as her fellow waiters looked at her with