Free Gypped by Carol Higgins Clark

will?”
    “Yes. If you must know, I don’t charge some of my students. And I help them with certain expenses.”
    “You do?”
    “Yes. Only the ones who really need it. I won’t do it forever. They all say they’ll pay me back. We’ll see.”
    “You’re always working so hard with your coaching. It’s not as if you need the money.”
    “I enjoy it. Like you with your singing. It makes me feel good to help people build their confidence. Then all they need is a little push.”
    “And a little dough.”
    “Norman!”
    “Sorry.”
    “At least I don’t have to worry about you being nice to me for my money.”
    “That’s for sure.”
    Zelda laughed. “I’ve always felt that you’ve been glad for me about the money. Not many people are. It’s human nature. There’s a lot of jealousy.”
    “I never begrudged you a nickel. And . . . and . . . and . . . I’ve stayed out of your financial matters.”
    “That’s true, you have. You know what, Norman?”
    “What?”
    “Sometimes having this much money is more trouble than it’s worth.”
    “I’d like a shot at it.”
    “I’m serious. Take, for example, the fundraiser I went to that had the auction for this house. I didn’t know anyone there. I don’t even know how they got my address or phone number.”
    “You get on a list. Then you’re toast.”
    “I always buy tickets to these events. And then I feel guilty if I don’t spend more money when I’m there. That’s why we’re sitting in this house now.”
    “It’s an experience.”
    “That it is. Listen, why don’t you run into town and get the shopping done? I’d also like you to stop at my apartment. Whatever information I have about the charity, and the paperwork for this house, is on the desk in my office. I’d like Regan to take a look at it.”
    “Good idea. This place is a dump.”
    “It’s not that bad. I think I’ll try and get some sleep now.”
    “Okay. I love you, Zelda.”
    “I love you too, Norman.” She smiled. “If you ever keep anything from me like my father did, I’ll kill you.”
    Norman howled as he left the room.

14

    T he morning after Maggie worked at the Scrumps estate, she slept until 9:00. Her studio apartment was in a nice-enough complex on Kings Road in West Hollywood, but her unit was below ground. As a result, it was often difficult to discern what the weather was like, or even the time of day. Sliding glass doors ran the length of the small room, and opened onto a narrow patio that faced a cement wall. At the top of the wall security bars were welded to the building. The only natural light that reached Maggie’s apartment passed through those bars.
    Coffee, Maggie thought, I need coffee. She pulled on a pair of sweats, grabbed her keys, and slipped a ten dollar bill in her pocket as she left the apartment. She double locked both cylinders, then sauntered down the hall to a metal door that led outside. She pushed it open, ascended a small staircase, and stepped onto the sidewalk.
    “The world is still here,” she mumbled as she breathed in fresh air and started up the block. It’s hard to tell what’s going on when I’m down in that cell. She had made the space as homey as she could, but it still felt so confining. Maggie liked to get up and out first thing in the morning and pick up a cup of coffee.It was an expense, but a necessary one. She did it for her sanity. Besides, Gelson’s Market was only a block away and their coffee was the best. Today I might even treat myself to a banana muffin, Maggie mused. One of the best things about being a character actress was not having to agonize over every morsel of food you put in your mouth.
    On the street she passed several people out walking their dogs. Most of them nodded and smiled. My apartment might not be the greatest, but I love this neighborhood.
    She could have gotten a better apartment if she was willing to live with a roommate, but one bad experience had put her off that forever. Before she