Hot Toy

by Jennifer Crusie

  “Okay,” Trudy said, tempted to fight back on that one.

  “I’m being punished, aren’t I?” Courtney said. “I stole my sister’s boyfriend—”

  “Ten years ago,” Trudy said. “I’m over it. I was over it before you stole him. You’re not being punished. I didn’t want him, which I told you at the time. He’s a jerk, I have an affinity for jerks—”

  “Hey,” Nolan said.

  “—and you’re better off without him.”

  “But not without the MacGuffin!”

  “I’m working on that.” Trudy looked around the last toy store in town. How the hell am I going to get this year’s MacGuffin? “I’ll get it, Court.”

  “And two toxic wastes,” Courtney said, gulping.

  “Two toxic wastes. Got it.” Maybe if she just stuck the toxic-waste packets in the MacGuffin box, Leroy wouldn’t notice the doll didn’t actually spit it.

  “And wrapping paper,” Courtney said, sounding less frantic.

  “Right.” Trudy grabbed a package of red-and-white paper off the rack that came before the checkout counter and snagged a roll of Scotch tape while she was at it. “Got it. I gotta go. Go do something besides drink.”

  “This year’s MacGuffin,” Courtney said.

  “Your gingerbread is burning,” Trudy said, and clicked off the phone.

  “Trouble at home?” Nolan said, sounding sympathetic.

  “Absolutely not. Everything is fine.”

  He reached past her, nudging her gently with his shoulder as he pulled two bright green foil packages off the counter rack. “You’ll need these.”

  He dropped them on top of the MacGuffin box and she saw the words Toxic Waste! emblazoned on them in neon red.

  “Thank you,” she said, and then the woman in the bobble cap picked up her bags and left and Trudy dumped everything onto the counter.

  The cashier looked at the MacGuffin box with something approaching awe. “Where’d you find this?”

  “On a shelf behind some other boxes,” Trudy said for what she sincerely hoped was the last time.

  “Man, did you ever get lucky,” the cashier said, and began to ring it up.

  “That’s me,” Trudy said, trying to forget that Nolan was about to leave her again, that the wrong MacGuffin was in front of her, and that Madonna was still lisping about greed overhead. “Nothing but luck, twenty-four-seven.”

  “A thousand,” Nolan said from behind her when she’d handed over her credit card and seen the MacGuffin go in one shopping bag and the Twinkletoes in another. “Come on; that’s a damn good offer.”

  “No,” Trudy said, picked up her bags, and left.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Trudy stood on the street corner, juggling her three shopping bags and signaling awkwardly for a cab. There was one around the corner that was stubbornly off duty, and every other one that went by had people in the backseat. They were probably just circling the block to annoy her. She shifted the bags again, her feet aching as the cold from the concrete permeated the thin soles of her boots, trying to think of a way to get a Mac Two short of breaking into Evil Nemesis Brandon’s house and stealing his.

  It started to snow.

  If I had some matches, I could strike them all and bask in the glow, Trudy thought, and then a cab pulled up in front of her and Reese opened the door.

  “I got a lead on this year’s MacGuffins,” he said as he got out to stand in front of her. “Get in and we’ll go get them.”

  Trudy gaped at him. “You’re kidding.”

  “No. I know this guy.”

  Trudy frowned at him in disbelief. “You know this guy. I’ve been to every toy store in town, but you know this guy.”

  “Not a toy store. A warehouse.”

  “A warehouse. No, thank you.” Trudy reached around him to signal for another cab, which passed her by, its tires crunching in the snow. She craned her neck to see around the corner, but the cab that had been there was gone. The streets were emptying out, stores starting to close. I am so screwed, she thought.

  “Oh, come on.” Reese held the cab door open for her and gestured her in. “This guy called around and found out about this warehouse where they got a shipment in, but the delivery people didn’t come back for them. He says there are dozens of them there.” Reese smiled at her, surfer cute. “So the warehouse guys are selling them out the back door. We’re gonna pay through the nose, but hey, they’ve got Mac Twos.”

  Trudy put her hand down and tried to be practical—getting in a cab and going to a warehouse with a virtual stranger would be stupid even if he had been her father’s research assistant—but the snow was falling faster, and the bags weren’t getting any lighter, and the stores were closing, and Leroy still didn’t have a MacGuffin. “My feet hurt.”

  Reese gestured to the cab again. “Sit.”

  Trudy sat down sideways on the backseat with her feet on the curb, balancing her three bags on her lap. “A warehouse.”

  “With a big shipment of Mac Twos.” Reese looked down at her, his patience obviously wearing thin. “And I’m betting we’re not the only ones who know about it, so we should get a move on.”

  Trudy put her forehead on her bags. The cab radio was playing some cheerful rap lite that Trudy liked until she heard the singer say, “Santa Baby.”

  Reese stepped closer, looming over her. “Scoot over so I can get in.”

  Trudy lifted her head. “For all I know you’re a rapist and a murderer.”

  “Hey.” Reese sounded wounded although he looked as clueless as ever.

  “It’s nothing personal. Ted Bundy was a very attractive man.”

  “Oh, come on. I worked for your dad. You’re in a cab. You can tell the driver to wait while we go inside.”

  A Mac Two. It was too good to be true. Much like Reese the surfer boy hitting on an older college librarian was too good to be true. And he had a cab, too. It strained belief, something she was pretty weak in to begin with. “How did you get a cab?”

  “I held out my hand and it pulled up.” Reese sounded exasperated. “Look, if you don’t want to go, I do. In or out.”

  “Oh, just hell,” Trudy said.

  Reese shook his head and went around to the street side of the cab and got in. “Make up your mind, Trudy,” he said from behind her as he closed his door. “It’s Christmas Eve and it’s getting later every minute.”

  Okay, he’d worked with her dad, and Nolan seemed to know him from the department, and he was probably not a psychotic killer, and he said he knew where there were Mac Twos. Did she really have a choice?

  She put one foot into the cab, dragging her packages with her, keeping the other foot on the curb.

  “So this warehouse,” she began, and then stopped, getting a good look at the inside of the cab. It was festooned with LED Christmas lights blinking red and green in time to the music, the song’s refrain whispering, “Gimme, gimme, gimme, Santa Baby.” She saw Reese look up at the ceiling and followed his eyes to a shriveled piece of mistletoe safety-pinned to the sagging fabric. “My God.”

  “Mistletoe,” Reese said.

  “Pretty limp,” Trudy said, squinting at it.

  “I’m not.”

  “I have Mace.”

  He ducked his head and kissed her, bumping her nose, and it was nice, being kissed in a warm cab by a younger man, even if there was snow drifting in through the open door and the foot she still had on the curb was freezing. Gimme, gimme, gimme, Trudy thought, and wished he were Nolan.

  Reese pulled back a little. “Thank you for not Macing me.”

  “I was thinking about it,” Trudy said, and he kissed her again, putting his arms around her and pulling her close, and this time she kissed him back, because it was Christmas Eve and he might be getting her a Mac II. And because he was a pretty good kisser even if he wasn’t Nolan, who was a grave disappointment anyway.

  Then Nolan leaned into the cab and scared the hell out of her.

  “So
, where are we going?” he asked cheerfully.

  “Where did you come from?” she said, her heart hammering.

  “Looking for a cab.” Nolan smiled at her. “Can’t find one.” He nudged the leg she had stretched out to the curb. “Can I share yours?”

  “No,” Reese said, evidently not planning on taking any classes from Nolan in the future.

  “It’s polite to share a cab on Christmas Eve, Mr. Daniels,” Nolan said.

  “I’m not polite, Professor Mitchell.” Reese tightened his grip on her.

  Trudy looked from one to the other. They were glaring at each other, which was sort of flattering until she remembered that they probably both wanted the Mac Two more than they wanted her. Well, there had to be safety in numbers. What were the chances they were both serial killers?

  “I’m polite.” Trudy pulled her foot into the cab and scooted over, stopping when her hip touched Reese’s.

  Nolan slid in until his hip touched hers, and shut the door.

  The cab grew warmer.

  “Where are we going?” he said. “Tell me it’s a place with MacGuffins.”

  Trudy nodded. “A warehouse. With MacGuffins mint in their boxes.”

  “Way to go, dude,” Nolan said to Reese.

  “Out,” Reese said, still hanging on to Trudy.

  “Oh no.” Trudy pulled away, leaning into Nolan in the process. “I’m only going if he goes.”

  “I’m touched,” Nolan said.

  “No, you’re not,” Trudy said, moving back from him again. “Safety in numbers. Any number. Not you specifically.” She smiled at Reese. “We’ll all go together.”

  Reese looked as though he might argue and then sighed. “Go,” he said to the cabbie, and gave an address that Trudy knew was in the warehouse district, probably now dark and deserted and half an hour away.

  Well, at least she knew Nolan wouldn’t attack her. The dumbass had no interest in her body at all.

  “Gimme, gimme, gimme,” the radio sang.

  “I hate Christmas,” Trudy said, and settled back as the cab jerked into motion.

  Chapter 2

  “So,” Nolan said as the cab moved through the falling snow and the brightly lit streets. “This is really nice.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Reese said.

  Actually, it was. Nolan was pressed warm against her and if she forgot everything that had happened and repressed all her common sense, it was almost like they were together again, and that felt good. Pathetic, she thought, but she didn’t move away from him.

  “What’s in the other bag?” Nolan said, looking into her first shopping bag. “Is that a cow?”

  “Yes,” Trudy said. “It says, ‘Eat chicken,’ when you pull its string.” He looked at her in disbelief, and she said, “Well, earlier in the evening that was hysterically funny.”

  “It is funny,” Reese said, tightening his arm around her. “It’s very funny.”

  Nolan frowned. “I hadn’t figured you for the stuffed-animal-giving type,” he said, taking the lanky spotted cow out of the bag.

  “Really,” Trudy said coolly. I hadn’t figured you for the grave-disappointment type.

  “More the educational-toy-giving type. You seem so … practical.”

  It was embarrassing to think what she had figured him for. He’s smart, he’s funny, and he’s got swivel hips, she’d told Courtney. Just imagine. Yeah, that was the kind of statement that came back to haunt you.

  “You know. You seem pretty … straight,” Nolan said. “Being a librarian and all.”

  “I’m the assistant director of library sciences,” she told him, trying to crush him with disdain.

  “Right.” Nolan nodded. “A librarian.”

  “Yes,” Trudy said, giving up. “I’m a librarian.”

  Reese tightened his arm around her. “I never thought of you as a librarian. I think that’s a terrible thing to call you.”

  Well, yeah, except I am a librarian, Trudy thought, and then her cell phone rang and she answered it.

  “Three toxic wastes,” Courtney said, her voice much looser now. “I want to bury Evil Nemesis Brandon in the stuff.”

  “There’s no need to be unpleasant,” Nolan said to Reese over her head. “It’s Christmas Eve. Goodwill to men.”

  “Not to you,” Reese said.

  “Here’s the situation,” Trudy said to Courtney, putting one hand over her ear to shut out the cab radio—gimme gimme gimme—and the two guys bickering over her head. “I met one of Dad’s old research assistants in the toy store and he says he knows where they have this year’s MacGuffin, but it’s out in some dangerous deserted warehouse on the edge of town.”

  “He can get one of this year’s? Yes. Go!”

  “Good to know you’ll sacrifice me for a homicidal toy,” Trudy said. “But that’s okay; I’m already on my way.”

  “What’s this guy’s name?”

  “Reese Daniels.”

  “Did you check his ID?”

  “No, Courtney, I did not check his ID.”

  “Always a good idea,” Nolan said. “You never know with research assistants. They can turn on you like that.”

  “Who’s that?” Courtney said.

  “Nolan.”

  “Still?”

  “Yes,” Trudy said repressively.

  Reese took his wallet from his jacket, flipped it open, and showed her his driver’s license.

  Trudy squinted at it. “His driver’s license says ‘Reese Lee Daniels.’ Born 1982.”

  “A younger man,” Courtney said, distracted. “Is he cute?”

  “Sort of,” Trudy said. If you like surfers. Dude.

  “I really think you and I should go out again,” Nolan said. “Let’s give us another chance.”

  Trudy closed her eyes in the dark and thought, No, it will not work out, he’ll just forget you again.

  “Do you mind?” Reese said. “She’s with me.”

  “Forget cute,” Courtney was saying on the phone. “Does he have a job? Does he look like he’ll be faithful?”

  “No,” Trudy said to Nolan. “No more faculty, no more film.”

  “Okay, we’ll go to the Aquarium.” Nolan put the cow back in the bag. “It’ll make you calm. You can taunt the sharks.”

  “I bet he won’t be faithful,” Courtney said.

  “What kind of person taunts sharks?” Trudy said to Nolan. “They’re trapped in a tank.”

  “Okay,” Nolan said, the voice of reason. “Where do you want to go? Your choice.”

  “Do you mind?” Reese said to him again. “This is my cab. Stop putting on the moves.”

  “I’m not asking you,” Nolan said to him.

  “He’ll betray you,” Courtney was saying gloomily. “Younger, older, they’re all rats.”

  Trudy ignored the two guys to answer her. “That’s the gin talking, honey. I thought you were going to ice gingerbread.”

  “I swear,” Nolan said to Trudy. “No more film festivals.”

  Trudy waved her hand at him to get him to shut up so she could hear Courtney.

  “I am icing gingerbread.” Courtney sounded more depressed than ever. “But I broke more arms off. So I switched to the gingerbread house, and I got it together, but now the gumdrops won’t stick.” She sounded ready to weep.

  “Why don’t you wait until I get home and I can help you,” Trudy said, trying to make her voice cheerful. “You probably just need thicker icing.”

  “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “A gumdrop fell into my drink. Wait a minute.”

  Trudy listened for a moment.

  “You know, they’re not half bad in gin.”

  “Court, put the gin away and go lie down. I’ll be home as soon as we get done at this warehouse, and then we’ll finish the gingerbread house together.”

  “No more faculty parties, either,” Nolan said.

  Reese leaned forward, smushing Trudy between them. “She doesn’t want to go out with you,
okay?”

  “That warehouse sounds dangerous,” Courtney said. “Get the cab number and the cabbie’s name.”

  Nolan shook his head at Reese. “We don’t know that she doesn’t want to go out with me. She never really got to know me.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Trudy said, turning on him. “Three dates and then you don’t call, you don’t write. But hey, it’s not the end of the world.” And you never kissed me, either. Han Solo would have kissed me.

  “Trudy?” Courtney said.

  “In a minute,” Trudy said to her.

  “I know, I know, that was bad of me; I’m really sorry,” Nolan was saying. “But you didn’t seem like you were having a good time.”

  “A good time? I was on my best behavior, you jerk. What else did you need? Cries of delight at the faculty party? Moans of appreciation for the movie popcorn? Which, I might point out, I ate alone. Did you think—” She stopped, realizing that arguing made it sound like she cared. “Never mind. I’m sure you had a good reason for disappearing out of my life without a reason. Forget it.”

  “Forget what?” Courtney said. “The name of the cabbie? You never gave it to me.”

  Trudy leaned over to look at the cab license for her, and Reese tightened his arm across her shoulders. “Alexander Kuroff,” she said into the phone as she straightened.

  “Write it down,” Courtney said.

  “I don’t have any paper,” Trudy said, and Nolan rummaged in her shopping bags and pulled out the Christmas paper she’d bought.

  Trudy tore the cellophane off the corner of it and said, “No pen.”

  Both men offered her pens, Reese a beat behind Nolan. Trudy took Reese’s and wrote the cabbie’s name on the white space around the red printed words on the paper.

  “And the cab number.”

  “Court—”

  “Read it to me so I can write it down, too.”

  Trudy read it off. “I don’t see what good my writing it down is going to do. If I die, the wrapping paper goes with me.”

  “You’re not going to die,” Nolan said. “I’m here.”

  “Oh, give it a rest,” Reese said.

  “What cab company?” Courtney said.

  “Yellow Checker,” Trudy said. “And I’m stopping this conversation now.”