Cleo Edison Oliver, Playground Millionaire Read online

  For Tasha, who is full of great ideas

  —with love, DeeDee

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 A New Name, a New Business

  2 May the Sales Force Be With You™!

  3 Telling Fortune

  4 Peanut Butter and Jelly

  5 The Name Game

  6 On Top of the World (For a Moment, Anyway)

  7 Power Lunch

  8 Brainstorming

  9 Paratrooper Tooth

  10 Drumming Up Business

  11 Risk Management

  12 Grand Opening

  13 A Minor Setback

  14 A Perfect Opportunity

  15 Horriful Times a Hundred

  16 The Cookies Make a Comeback

  17 Some Fortunate Advice

  18 Through Ups and Downs

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Cleo wrote her new name in fancy lettering, the curlicue kind she’d learned from Caylee. It didn’t look as good as it would have if her best friend had done it, but it would work. She took down the California license-plate door sign that said CLEO’S ROOM and hung her new sign in its place:

  Perfect.

  Josh appeared from his and Julian’s room. He stared at her door, slurping his Dum-Dum. “Edison’s not your middle name.”

  No, it wasn’t. Lenore was. But she didn’t want that one. Not since Lexie Lewis had gotten ahold of it and started calling her “LeSnore.”

  “It is now.” She started into her room.

  “But you can’t just change your name.” S-s-slurp. “Can you?”

  She turned. Josh ran into her, jabbing her with his dumb Dum-Dum stick.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry.” S-s-slurp.

  She rubbed her chest where the stick had poked her. “You can do anything you want with your name. It’s yours.”

  Josh sucked thoughtfully, as if this obvious fact had never occurred to him. He followed her across the room. “But Edison is our grandparents’ name.”

  Cleo reached under her bed and pulled out the signs she’d made the night before. “I don’t think they’ll mind.”

  “But you’ll have two last names!”

  “Women with two last names sound more professional.”

  Josh snorted. “You’re not a woman!”

  “Well, I will be! Now, go away.” She grabbed the roll of masking tape from her desk drawer, dropped everything on her royal-purple comforter, and high-stepped onto the bed. She stood eye-to-eye with her poster of Fortune A. Davies.

  Fortune had skin that gleamed like a polished chestnut, dazzling white teeth, and a sparkle in her eye that said, “I believe in you!” Her arms were flung wide, forever frozen in an almost-hug. How Cleo wished she could step into the picture and get that hug.

  “Why’d you put your initials after your name?”

  Cleo turned. The beads at the ends of her freshly braided hair clicked against one another. Josh was staring at her door again.

  She jumped down from the bed and grabbed the signs and tape. “Those aren’t my initials. I mean, they are, now that I’ve changed my name, but —” She huffed. “Don’t you know anything about business, Josh?”

  “Not really. Just what you’ve taught me.” He grinned. He had a huge gap where his bottom two teeth had been.

  What would he do without her? “CEO stands for Chief Executive Officer.”

  Josh’s forehead wrinkled. “What’s that mean?”

  “It’s the person in charge of a company.”

  “Why don’t they just call it ‘Person In Charge,’ then? It’s easier to understand.”

  Cleo rolled her eyes. She started down the stairs.

  “But, Cleo, you don’t have a company.”

  He had stopped following her. Finally.

  “I do now! Cleopatra Enterprises, Inc.!”

  Barkley greeted her at the bottom of the stairs, panting from his “long trek” across the kitchen. His tail slapped the wall. Cleo crouched to get her good-morning kisses. “Ew, Barkley. Not only are you seriously overweight, you’ve got a bad case of morning breath!”

  Barkley barked.

  “I think it’s this new low-fat dog food we’re feeding him,” Dad said, scooping kibbles from a ginormous bag of Slim ’N’ Trim Canine Sardine Meal. Mom wasn’t about to switch dog foods until the whole entire bag was used, and as long as he had to eat that fishy stuff, Barkley’s breath was doomed.

  Barkley nudged the food with his nose but didn’t eat any.

  Mom turned from the counter where she was stirring something that looked like sticky birdseed in a bowl. Her T-shirt exposed her formidable arms. Not particularly muscular, but solid. “I don’t think he likes it,” Mom said, watching Barkley.

  “I like it!” Julian slid into the room, wearing his Iron Man pajamas.

  “What?” Mom’s eyes popped wide.

  “It’s Fish Stick Cap’n Crunch!” Cleo’s littlest brother snatched a piece of dog food and crunched it in his mouth. Barkley looked at him quizzically, then took a begrudging bite himself.

  “When have you had Cap’n Crunch cereal?” Mom demanded.

  “At Damon’s house.”

  “That’s the last time I’m letting you go there,” Mom said. “That stuff isn’t fit for human consumption!”

  Julian scowled. The rest of them laughed, even Mom. But then she added, “I’m not joking.”

  Cleo was tempted to try a bite of fish stick–flavored Cap’n Crunch herself, but she couldn’t afford to have stinky breath on her first day of business. “Can I take the card table outside?” she asked.

  “Uh-oh. Cleopatra ‘I Have an Idea’ Oliver is at it again!” Dad winked at her.

  “You mean, Cleopatra Edison Oliver, CEO.”

  “Ooo, my daughter, the company president.” Dad nodded. “I like the sound of that.” Cleo loved her dad, with his crazy, curly, nutty-professor hair. He knew nothing about business, but that didn’t keep him from being gung ho about it.

  Mom fixed her bright blue eyes on Cleo. “What do you plan to do with the table?”

  “It’s the grand opening of CLEO’S AWESOME AVOCADO STAND!” She held up her signs, then realized they were upside down. She flipped them around.

  Dad read aloud. “ ‘Blowout sale!!’? ‘Everything must go!!!’?” He looked at her. “On your first day of business?”

  “It’s advertising, Dad. I’m trying to get people’s attention.”

  “Right . . .”

  She produced the sign that said HUGE LABOR DAY SAVINGS!!! “It’s all about how you spin things. Marketing is eighty percent of sales, Dad.”

  “Is that so?”

  Mom cut in again. “So what’s your plan, exactly?”

  “I’m going to sell the avocados from our trees! Barkley’s blown up like a balloon from eating too many of them off the ground. And let’s be honest, how much more guacamole can we eat?”

  “A lot!” Dad said.

  Mom’s eyes slid to Dad’s waistline. Dad scooped up Julian and tickled him all the way to the family room. JayJay shrieked with laughter.

  “How much do avocados cost at the store?” Cleo asked.

  “Oh, anywhere from a dollar to a dollar fifty apiece. Sometimes as much as two fifty if they’re big.”

  Cleo’s heart did a happy dance. The day before, she had counted almost sixty avocados on their three trees. And she was going to sell them all!

  Josh rushed into the kitchen. “Mom, can we buy my Nerf gun today? Please??”

  Mom was f
orming the birdseed goop into balls and plopping them onto a baking sheet. “Do you have half the money yet?”

  “No.”

  “Keep saving!” she sang.

  Josh scowled and stomped through the kitchen.

  Cleo hurried across the room. “As always, I’ll give away ten percent of whatever I make.” She looked Mom in the eye. “It’s Fortune Principle Number Ten, you know.”

  “That’s wonderful, honey. But for the record, that wasn’t her original idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “God told us to do the same thing about four thousand years ago.”

  Oh no. Not another one of Mom’s sermons. “What are you making, anyway?”

  Mom shoved what looked like lollipop sticks into the balls. Her eyes lit up. “Longevity Lollipops!”

  “Longevity?”

  “Long life. They’re full of stuff that’s good for you.”

  Too bad. Cleo had been about to ask for one. “So can I? Take the card table outside?”

  “If you think you can convince people to buy the fruit off our trees, by all means, sell away!”

  If she could convince people? “Convince” was practically her middle name!

  Except it wasn’t. As of today, it was Edison. Cleopatra Edison Oliver, CEO. Person In Charge.

  Cleo taped her signs to the chain-link fence that surrounded their front yard. Then she stacked avocados in neat pyramids on the table. Product display was a very important part of sales. Grandpa Williams had taught her that. He’d owned his own market until the grocery giant WinCo opened nearby.

  She pulled out the cutting board and knife she’d “borrowed” when Mom had left the kitchen to help Julian find something in the boys’ bedroom. Grandpa Williams said samples were a must in any quality produce department. Customers deserve no less! Plus, they increased sales.

  She was all set to sell when Julian and Barkley appeared. Her brother wore his fluorescent green Star Wars T-shirt with his orange-brown-and-turquoise plaid shorts. To top it off, he’d chosen his purple-and-gold Lakers kneesocks, each blazoned with a picture of Basketball Hall of Famer Magic Johnson going to the hoop. The outfit was hideous . . . but noticeable. With those clothes and a sign, he’d get everyone’s attention.

  “May the Sales Force be with you!” she said, cracking up at her own joke and making Jay giggle. She just might have to trademark that.

  She set her brother on the corner with the sign SAVE OUR DOG!! BUY AVOCADOS!!! and told him to dance. Barkley lay at JayJay’s feet, looking very sad and overweight.

  People walking by with their dogs, people out jogging, even a few people in cars stopped to ask how buying avocados could save their dog — and then they bought avocados. Sometimes one, sometimes three or four.

  Miss Jean from next door tried to trade eggs from her backyard chickens, but Cleo held out for cash. She couldn’t bank eggs. Not to mention what would Horizon Home, the shelter for homeless moms and their kids that she gave her ten percent to, do with a bit of egg?

  Fred and Pedro came by with their Jack Russell terrier, Bowmore. He and Barkley were good friends. They bought a whole dozen, saying they’d do anything to save Bowmore if he were in danger of eating himself to death.

  Cleo was at the avocado trees, replenishing her stock, when JayJay started dancing and flinging the sign around again. “Hi, Grandpa Williams!” he yelled. “Want to buy something?”

  “What’s your sister selling this time?” His friendly voice came from up the street.

  “Cleo’s Awesome Avocados!” Cleo shouted, rushing back to the table. “Best in all of Altadena Heights!”

  The elderly man ambled down the sidewalk, leaning on his redwood walking stick with the dog’s-head handle.

  “Good morning, Grandpa Williams!” Cleo called, waving and smiling. He wasn’t their actual grandpa. They just called him that. She’d been at the Williamses’ house the day before, getting her braids redone for the first day of school. Mom hired their granddaughter, Tasha, to do Cleo’s hair and sometimes to babysit. Mom had learned a lot of things about African American hair care, but doing tiny cornrow braids wasn’t one of them. Her and Cleo’s relationship couldn’t handle tiny cornrow braids.

  “How are my grandkids this fine Labor Day morning?” Mr. Williams asked.

  “Great!” Cleo picked up a bag of avocados and held it open for him to see. “Normally, I’d sell these for four dollars. But for you, I’ll make it three. Since you’re part of my Loyal Customers program.”

  He peered into the bag. “Am I, now?”

  “You’ve bought from all my businesses.”

  “Absolutely! Although, I still don’t know how you convinced me I needed seven pairs of rainbow-striped toe socks.”

  “One for every day of the week!”

  “Or the dog-leash decorative decals . . . since I don’t own a dog.”

  “You can decorate other things with them.”

  “But I sure love my knitted coasters! Use ’em all the time.”

  “They were supposed to be Barbie rugs. But see, you found a perfect way to use those!”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “You got it right, there, little sister. I sure did!”

  Cleo held up a slice of avocado. “Sample?” She grinned.

  His eyes gleamed. “My apprentice has learned well.” He took a bite. “That’s some fine fruit!” He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out three shiny dollar coins — the gold kind that Cleo loved. He gave one to Julian and one to Cleo. “This one is for Brother Joshua,” he said, placing the last coin in her hand.

  She wanted to say that as president of the company, she made the financial decisions, but she couldn’t talk back to Grandpa Williams. Plus, Jay had helped. He deserved to be paid. She’d make sure Josh earned his dollar as well.

  They said thank you, and then JayJay zoomed off, shouting, “I’m going to show Mom and Dad — I got real gold!”

  Grandpa Williams winked at her and gave Barkley’s head a pat. “Thanks for the ‘Awesome Avocados’!”

  “Don’t forget to tell everyone you see that we’re here,” she said.

  He raised his cane as he walked away. “Will do. Keep up the good work!”

  Cleo was at the table, counting her money, when Josh came around the corner with his bin of DinoFormers. His LA Dodgers cap snugged his curly hair, as usual. The hat, a gift from his and JayJay’s first mom, Melanie, never left his head when he was outdoors.

  “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine . . . ,” Cleo counted.

  Josh’s eyes got huge when he saw her pile of dollar bills. “Whoa! You made all that money?”

  “Uh-huh. And there’s plenty more where this came from!” She motioned to the trees in their yard. At least another thirty dollars hung on the branches.

  Barkley hobbled over. Cleo kissed the top of the dog’s head. “Thanks for getting fat, Barks. I might never have realized what a gold mine I was sitting on.” She held up an avocado. “Green gold!”

  Josh set down his toy bin. Barkley stuck his nose into it and sniffed around. “No, Barkley!” Josh pushed the dog’s head away.

  Cleo finished counting the dollar bills. All thirty-three of them. This was the quickest and easiest money she’d ever made from a business. She’d sold plant bulbs (Mom hadn’t been too happy when she’d found out Cleo had dug them up from her flower beds), hand-drawn tattoos, God’s Eyes, and rides on her Slip’N Slide. Plus, products from a catalog (like tins of popcorn and the toe socks), decorative decals (which could be used for dog leashes or other things), and Barbie rugs. But nothing had come close to generating this kind of dough! She couldn’t believe this amazing business opportunity had been right in front of her face this whole time and she’d missed it. Avocados just seemed so . . . well, avocado-y. Bland and unexciting and not a very attractive color of green. But people wanted them!

  “Speaking of gold, help me sell and I’ll give you this
dollar.” She held up the coin from Grandpa Williams.

  He held out his hand. “That’s mine already. JayJay told me.”

  Her shoulders drooped. “Okay.” She dropped the coin into his palm, then perked up again. “Help me sell and I’ll give you twenty-five cents a bag!” She was feeling generous . . . and she didn’t want to be alone.

  “That’s not very much.” Josh crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

  “I’ve already sold ten bags. Ten more and you’ll have two dollars and fifty cents — three fifty with Grandpa Williams’s money — to put toward that Nerf gun.”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “Here.” She held out the SAVE OUR DOG!! BUY AVOCADOS!!! sign. “Just dance around on the corner, like the Pizza-Sign Guy on Lake Avenue.” The Pizza-Sign Guy was a real professional. He could do two complete spins while his sign was up in the air.

  “No way. Too embarrassing.”

  She shrugged. “Fine by me.”

  A silver SUV chugged up the street. Cleo ran to the curb, waving the sign. “Best avocados in all of Altadena Heights! Cheaper than the store! Great guacamole!”

  The SUV drove past without slowing. Oh well. She’d get the next one. She turned back to the table. Josh held up Mom’s knife by its handle.

  “Mom doesn’t let you use this knife.”

  It was true. The fancy Global Chef!® knife Mom had bought from the infomercial was off-limits.

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I heard her tell you you couldn’t.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “No it wasn’t.”

  “Well, maybe she changed her mind.”

  “I’m telling her you took her knife.”

  “No, Josh!”

  He started toward the gate.

  She dropped the sign and rushed after him. He walked faster. She had to be careful — he was holding a sharp knife, after all. Barkley barked but didn’t try to keep up with them.

  “I’ll give you another dollar. Just let me have it, Josh.”

  He fumbled with the gate latch. “You’re going to be in b-i-i-i-g trouble.”

  The little termite! Why did he always have to ruin everything? She snatched his hat and bolted.

  “Give it back!” he shouted. The knife clattered on the sidewalk. Barkley barked louder.