Young and Revolting: The Continental Journals of Nick Twisp by C. D. Payne Page B

were dating. Then I discovered that we had a fish but no lemon, so we had to grapple over who was going to brave all those stairs to run that errand. Needless to say, it was the guy in the sensible shoes that got elected. And should one lousy lemon cost E5? I really have to find some way to cram French numbers into my brain.
    Ten minutes later: Puffing like a steam engine, Sheeni is back with my change. She has given that larcenous shopkeeper a piece of her mind.
    11:30 p.m. Back from more bird lugging. My physique may soon rival those of the muscle-bound acrobats across the hall. Reina introduced me to her fellow performers. Big-billed Jiri is a toco toucan. Radek and Milena are blue/gold macaws. Salmon-tinged Damek is a Moluccan cockatoo. And friendly Zuza is a green-winged macaw. All raised by Reina from babyhood (I should have had it so nice).
    Reina invited me to share a nightcap with her. My first experience of brandy, which I judged no worse than regular unleaded. No photographic evidence in her apartment of a loving boyfriend. Hard to believe. The place doesn’t smell that bad. At the very least you’d think those lusty acrobats down the hall would be camped outside her door. Not to mention lonely Señor Nunez.
    Sheeni was not pleased that toting five birds up six flights took nearly one hour. And I don’t think she’ll be thrilled to learn that François accepted an invitation from Reina to take a sunset cruise on a Seine excursion boat this Sunday. No mention was made of bringing along any extraneous spouses. Somehow I’ll have to make the whole thing sound like strictly a business matter. That will take some doing, even for me. Fortunately, Sunday is a long way off.
    FRIDAY, May 28 — My phone chirped in the middle of the night. For the sake of my nerves I prayed it was Connie Krusinowski. It was.
    “ Rick! There’s been another disaster!”
    “ What, Connie? Is your father not buried yet?”
    “ Of course he’s buried. Over 200 mourners showed up for his funeral at Forest Lawn, including Paulo’s father comforting my mother—not that I need his services any longer. I wish the old fart would just butt out. Anyway, it was all very moving.”
    “ You buried your dad in Glendale?”
    Somehow that didn’t sound like much of a step up from Palm Springs.
    “ It’s quite a prestigious plot, Rick. It’s just a few hundred yards from Marilyn Monroe’s crypt. Rick, my father changed his will!”
    “ Oh? Bad news, Connie?”
    Somehow I sensed he hadn’t thought to cut me in for a tidy sum.
    “ He left Lacey ten million dollars!”
    Wow, Lacey was now sexy, beautiful, and rich. What an attractive combination of qualities.
    “ Well, Connie, they were engaged to be married.”
    “ And whose share of the estate do you think her pile is coming out of? Not my mother’s, that I can assure you!”
    “ Oh, dear, Connie. Are you suddenly impoverished?”
    “ Not hardly, Rick. But now Lacey is a wealthy woman on the loose. I just know she’s going to make a play again for my Paulo.”
    “ But Paul isn’t at all materialistic, Connie.”
    “ I know that, Rick. But deep down even the most spiritual guy likes to know where his next meal is coming from. Rick, you’ve got to call your father.”
    “ What!?”
    “ You’ve got to tell him his old girlfriend is now a millionaire and wants him back.”
    “ But, Connie, Lacey despises my father.”
    As, come to think of it, do I.
    “ She’s emotionally devastated, Rick. Former lovers are always slightly more appealing under those circumstances. But your father’s window of opportunity here is very narrow. You have to insist he get on the ball immediately.”
    “ Jesus, Connie, I don’t know . . .”
    “ Rick, who flew you guys out of Crescent City?”
    “ OK, Connie,” I sighed, “I’ll call him.”
    Damn. Back to being matchmaker for that creep. What did he ever do for me, besides donate some defective sperm?
    3:10 p.m. We barely made it back in time