The Nerd Who Loved Me

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  As they began to haggle over whether to bet on clumps of sausage, Rona phoned in the order. Once they'd fin­ished the pizza, she would definitely shoo them out. Dex­ter needed some quiet time. Amazing how protective she'd become in less than twenty-four hours.

  When she returned to the table, Suz glanced up. "How long did they say?"

  "Thirty minutes."

  Suz nodded. "Okay, I take six forty-two."

  "Six thirty-eight," said Trixie.

  Dexter stared at the clock. "Six thirty-six," he said.

  No one commented on the fact that Dexter could tell time. Anyone who had massacred the group so com­pletely at Texas Hold 'Em was guaranteed to be able to tell time. Rona had to keep reminding herself that he was only four, and he'd been going nonstop ever since he and Fred woke up at seven.

  So had she, come to think of it. Maybe she was imag­ining how tired Dexter was because she was exhausted keeping up with him. She was used to the pace of a retired woman—leisurely breakfast at eight, plenty of time to read the paper, taking Fred for a little walk, lunch with the girls.

  Dexter had been so disappointed when they'd had to let Eric walk Fred this morning and Brett this afternoon. If it weren't for that damned Joey, Rona could have taken Dexter and Fred to the park down the street and run them both around so that Dexter would have been ready for a nap. Then again, if it weren't for Joey, she wouldn't have Dexter here in the first place, so in a strange way, she owed Joey Benjamin for being such a jerk.

  "We never decided about sausage," Trixie said after everyone had bet on the pizza arrival time.

  "I say sausage clumps are too nebulous," Suz said.

  "Nebulous?" Dexter said. "Is that anything like neb­ula?"

  "I don't know, Dex," Suz said. "I never thought about it."

  "I certainly never thought about it," Babs said, "be­cause I don't have the foggiest idea what 'nebulous' means."

  "It means you don't get to bet on sausage, is what it means," said Trixie.

  "And I notice nobody's answered Dexter's question," Suz said. "Rona, you must have a dictionary around this place, for your crosswords. Maybe we can all learn some­thing."

  Rona went into the living room and pulled out the dictionary she kept with her stack of crossword puzzle magazines. For all she knew, Dexter would be able to work those puzzles better than she could. Harry had been able to at Dexter's age.

  Then she remembered the box stored in the back of her closet. She'd thought she had nothing but the TITS and Fred to amuse Dexter, but that wasn't true. She had a box of Harry's toys, and she'd forgotten all about that. Now she really wanted the TITS to vamoose, so that she could haul out that box for Dexter. But pizza was com­ing and bets had been made. She'd have to be patient.

  Back at the table, she looked up "nebulous" and read off the meaning.

  "Lacking definite form," Suz said. "That's sausage, for sure. You've got your big globs, your little globs, and your tiny bits of broken globs. You can't count sausage like you can pepperoni."

  "Okay, you convinced me." Cherie said. "But what about this nebula connection? Isn't that like a star or something?"

  "A diffuse mass of interstellar dust or gas," Rona said, reading from the dictionary, just as she used to do when Harry was a little boy. "So the words are related, like Dexter thought."

  "Way to go, kid." Cherie reached across the table and tapped him on the nose. "You smart little dickens."

  Rona beamed. Dexter was a smart little dickens, and all the TITS knew it. The bragging rights stopped here. Finally.

  The rates for what was now being called the Great Pizza Bet had barely been established when the sounds of yelling came from out front. Fred leaped from his bed and ran to the door, barking frantically.

  Rona's heart started racing. Not Joey again. Please not Joey. "Dexter, stay put. You girls, stay here with Dexter." Then she ran to the door, scooped up a wiggling Fred, and brought him back, shoving him into Trixie's arms. "Keep him here, too."

  "Call us if you need backup," Suz said.

  "I will." Trying not to hyperventilate, Rona headed for the front door again. Even though she knew Eric and Brett were keeping watch, she still worried that Joey would somehow slip through. And she didn't know if Joey's buddies would show up with him.

  Some kind of scuffle was going on out there, though, so maybe they'd caught Joey trying something. She held her breath, crossed her fingers, and looked through the security peephole in her door. The peephole gave her a worm's-eye view of chaos.

  Eric and Brett had the pizza guy flat on the sidewalk. Eric was holding the guy's wrists and Brett's knee was firmly planted in the guy's back. She could only imag­ine what had happened to the pizza, but the deliveryman wasn't looking so good. From what she could tell, he was kind of a scrawny type, no match for the likes of Eric and Brett.

  She unlocked the door and flung it open. "Hey, he was bringing us our dinner! Let him up!" With the door open she could see that one pizza box had popped open and the pizza, the plain cheese Dexter and Trixie had or­dered, hung halfway out of it. The other box, pretty much flattened, lay near the bushes. So much for betting on the mushrooms and pepperoni.

  The pink glow of sunset reflected off Eric's shaved head as he glanced up. "You ordered pizza?"

  "Yes! So let him up." Visions of a lawsuit danced in her head.

  "I was only trying to deliver a pizza! Who are you guys?" wailed the delivery boy.

  "He wouldn't show us any ID," said Brett, whose blond hair was barely out of place as he continued to keep his knee in position. "Then when we tried to grab him, 'cause we thought he might be after Dexter, he pulled some kind of spastic kung fu number on us."

  "It's hapkido!" the guy said. "I've been taking les­sons!"

  Eric clucked his tongue. "I'd get a refund for those lessons if I were you. That was pitiful."

  "Plus, you shouldn't have tried to assault us," Brett added.

  "I shouldn't have assaulted you? Hello! I'm the one with the face planted on the pavement, here! I'm just trying to do my job, and I get attacked by two rejects from the WWF! That's exactly why I took that course in self-defense, to make me feel safer when I deliver pizza."

  "And how's that self-defense course working out for you?" Brett asked.

  "Don't tease him," Eric said. "And Rona, you should have paged us. We would have picked up your pizza. I mean, this guy, he could've been anybody."

  They were right. She'd been so intent on getting the TITS fed and out of her hair that she'd forgotten about security. It was so hard to remember these things if you weren't used to them. Earlier today she'd said some­thing she shouldn't have on the cell phone with Leo. If anything she did should put Dexter in danger, she'd never forgive herself.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "And I'm sure he really is the pizza man."

  "I really am the pizza man. The pissed pizza man, I might add."

  "Then I guess we can let you up." Brett took his knee out of the guy's back and Eric released his wrists.

  The pizza man got up, dusted himself off, and glared at Rona. "I hope you have good insurance, because you're going to need it."

  Exactly what she'd been afraid of. "Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't realize—"

  "Hey, buddy." Brett put an arm around his shoulder. "What's your name?"

  He shrugged off Brett's arm. "Neville, Neville Ord-way. And I'm not your buddy. Remember my name, though. You can expect to hear it a lot as we work this out through the court system."

  Rona groaned. "Surely that won't be necessary."

  "Of course it won't," Eric said. "Here, Neville. Maybe this will ease your pain." He held out several bills, fanned to show the denomination clearly.

  Rona gasped at the amount of the bribe, but she hoped it worked. No telling how much Neville could get if he decided to press charges. She hated to think that she'd cost Leo more money, so if Neville took the bribe, she'd just tell Leo to forget the Tahiti trip. Instead she'd dress up in a grass skirt and give
him an extra-special blow job. He only went on those trips because of the va­cation sex, anyway.

  Neville shook his head. "You can't buy me off that easy. Just pay for the pizza. We'll settle the rest before a judge."

  "Land sakes, what have we here?" Suz pranced through the open door and sidled over to Neville. "Well, aren't you a cutie?"

  Rona stared at her friend, who'd suddenly developed a thick Southern accent. In the forgiving light of sunset, Suz could have been thirty-five, and she was acting twenty-five. She'd fluffed her short brown hair and un­buttoned her blouse to show off what was still impressive cleavage. Then she'd tied the tails of the blouse under her breasts to emphasize her flat tummy. In her low-rider shorts and her sequined mules, she was what used to be called a dish.

  Neville looked like he completely agreed. His eyes did a cartoony thing where they seemed to bulge out of his head, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "Uh, hi."

  "Hi, yourself, sugar." Suz meandered toward Mm, Mps swaying. "If I'd known somebody as gorgeous as you de­livered the pizza, I'd have been ordering every night. I like my pizzas hot and my deliverymen even hotter."

  Neville gulped. "We deliver seven days a week."

  "Honey pie, I'm sure you deliver all the time." Suz batted her eyelashes and took a deep breath, which ex­panded her chest another couple of inches.

  "Uh ... well... I do my best. Would you, um, do you ... want to see a menu? I can get you a menu from the car. Then if you ever want to order something—"

  "I can think of several things I'd like to order, and I'm sure you'd bring them all right to momma." Suz linked her arm through his. "Let's you and me go get that little of menu and take a look." The two of them walked over to a beat-up sedan sporting a lighted pizza sign attached to the passenger window.

  Rona could have kissed Suz for such a successful dis­traction. Maybe they'd get out of this okay, after all. She turned to Eric and Brett. "I'm so sorry, guys. I never dreamed ordering pizza could cause this much trouble."

  Eric watched Suz and Neville over by the car. "If we're real lucky, Suz and her vamp routine might handle it for us. I have to say I was worried when he wouldn't take the cash. That was a good payoff."

  "I hope Suz handles it," Brett said. "Because if we all get hauled into court, Leo will shit a brick."

  "Ain't that the truth," Eric said. "We never would've tackled him if he'd just shown us some ID and con­vinced us he wasn't working for Joey Benjamin, but he freaked and went into this weird kind of martial arts stance, so we reacted."

  "I understand," Rona said. "When it comes to pro­tecting Dexter, we don't want to take chances. I could kick myself for ordering the— Omigod, will you look at that."

  "I'll be damned," Eric said. "Neville's leaving. I wonder if she paid him for the pizza?"

  Suz came back up the walk, grinning. "By God, I've still got it! And we're in the clear."

  "I'm not sure I want to know how you did that," Rona said.

  "Oh, I suggested that the two of us might get together sometime, and I might even do it, although I'd have to keep my condo really dark. He's probably all of nine­teen. Anyway, the pizza, such as it is, is free."

  Rona was afraid to celebrate yet. After the impact of Suz's charms wore off, Neville could still decide to make a stink. "So you're absolutely sure he's not going to press charges?"

  "Not after I told him why he shouldn't."

  "Which was?" Brett asked.

  "I said he needed to think about why this house was guarded by a couple of thugs."

  "Hey!" Eric and Brett said together.

  "Look, would you rather have Leo climbing your backs because the guy charged you with assault? I used the word 'thugs' on purpose. I said Rona was protected because she was the girlfriend of someone he wouldn't want to mess with, a guy of Sicilian descent. He got my message and left."

  Eric and Brett exchanged a glance and then they both shrugged.

  "Okay," Eric said. "That works, I guess." "You could say 'Thank you,'" Suz said. Brett bowed. "Thank you. And let me add that you do look hot in that outfit, considering your age, and all." Suz glanced at Rona. "Okay if I deck this punk?" "Sure."

  "We were just leaving," Eric said as he grabbed Brett's arm. "Let's resume our post, Brett. And keep yourmouth shut, okay? Sheesh. If that was a compliment, you need some serious tutoring in how to get women."

  "Considering my age, indeed," Suz said as she leaned down to pick up the flattened box of pizza.

  "Suz, you're amazing." Rona slid the cheese pizza back into the box. If they brushed off the bits of gravel, they could eat most of it. "Thank you."

  "Ah, it was fun. I haven't tried that Southern routine on a guy in ages."

  Rona picked up the pizza box and started toward the door. "You should try it more often."

  "No, thanks. One round with Neville will satisfy my quota for the year, if I even decide to take him on. Mostly, men are too much work."

  "I don't know. Leo is a real comfort sometimes."

  "I'm sure he is. Leo is one in a million. I'd have to kiss a creek full of frogs before finding the likes of Leo. Listen, is he really connected to the Mafia?"

  As always, Rona felt a surge of excitement as she con­templated Leo's mysterious world, a world he referred to in vague terms. "I don't know for sure. He doesn't talk about it."

  "Well, there you go. That clinches it for me. So, are you ready to face the wild bunch?"

  "They're not going to like what happened to the pizza."

  "That is for damned sure." Suz pried the lid off the smashed box. "Oh, dear. I don't think we'll be able to bet on this one."

  Rona laughed. "No, we'll have to switch to your date with Neville. I'll bet he calls you tomorrow."

  "Yeah, and if he calls, and if I agree to see him, we can bet on how many times he gets it up."

  "But we can't make that bet in front of Dexter."

  Suz looked horrified. "You think I'd bet on some­thing like that in front of Dexter? I have grandchildren, too, you know!"

  "I know. Sorry to have suggested you would."

  "It's okay." Suz patted her arm. "When you first start out, you're bound to be really protective."

  "Right." As Rona followed Suz inside, she realized that Suz had just made two assumptions: (a) Rona was now officially classified as a grandmother, and (b) she would continue to have that status. Damned if that didn't feel wonderful.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lainie made Harry wait in the living room while she primped for her date. She'd explained to him that after five years, she deserved a little primping time before she left for dinner with an honest-to-goodness man. She hoped that suggesting dinner hadn't been too greedy on her part.

  But Harry had made it plain that he had the money to spend and enjoyed spending it on her. That felt really nice. Since she'd been concentrating on Dexter for the past few years, she'd forgotten many things about the dating process, and this was one of them—the satisfac­tion of making herself pretty for the man who'd offered to buy her dinner.

  Fortunately she always carried makeup in her purse, so that part she hadn't needed Rona to provide. Rona had loaned her a killer black skirt, though, and a black silk tank. The short skirt paired with her spike-heeled san­dals from her dance costume looked damned hot, if she said so herself. Because she hadn't been dating, she hadn't bought anything like this for herself in ages. She missed the fun of clothes shopping, but she wouldn't trade Dexter for a million shopping sprees.

  Still, dressing up tonight felt terrific. She was begin­ning to like the red wig, maybe because she'd had sex with Harry twice while wearing it. So far this trip had shot way past her expectations. And she hadn't even worn the red nightgown yet.

  She planned to give it a trial run tonight after dinner. It was hanging on the back of the bathroom door, ready for deployment, phase two of her evening seduction routine. Applying one last coat of lip gloss, she screwed the brush back into the tube, set it on the counter, and stepped back to evalu
ate her work.

  Not bad. She ran her hands down her hips, smoothing the snug little skirt. Going out to dinner with a guy she really liked had a special, Christmas-morning feel to it. And after all this great sex, her body felt sleek and honed in a way that dancing couldn't duplicate.

  The only part of this caper that didn't feel so good was knowing everything would soon end. So she worked hard to keep her mind focused on the here and now. She knew the time was drawing closer when she'd have to contact Joey. He'd given her his cell phone num­ber when he'd called to say he wanted to get back to­gether, and her brain had recorded it even though she hadn't really wanted to remember.

  That meant she could call Joey anytime she wanted to. She hadn't told Harry that, because she was postpon­ing the call. But she'd have to make it. The only answer to her problem was working out a compromise with Joey. Dexter deserved to have a shot at that inheritance.

  She'd never thought of him as being a grandson of Doyle Benjamin, but he was, after all.

  For tonight, though, she'd treat herself, because it had been so long since she'd enjoyed male company. For a little while, she wouldn't think about Doyle or how she'd work things out with Joey. Harry was taking her to dinner, and after dinner would come all the pos­sibilities suggested by the red nightgown. If she con­centrated on dinner, the red nightgown, and Harry, she wouldn't have a chance to think about the other stuff.

  With that resolution fresh in her mind, she made her entrance into the living room. Harry sat—like men tra­ditionally sat while they waited for the women in their lives—sprawled on the sofa looking bored while he leafed through a couple of old magazines that had been left on the coffee table. At the click of her heels on the tile floor, he glanced up.

  His expression as he looked her over was worth every second she'd spent getting ready. He reminded her of the way Dexter surveyed a hot fudge sundae, although there was a definite difference. In addition to eager anticipa­tion, Harry's eyes gleamed with a healthy dose of lust.

  She did her share of ogling, too. Harry had cleaned up pretty good, himself, which made his male apprecia­tion that much sweeter. Leo's imported clothes—gray silk shirt and black slacks—had turned Harry into a Eu­ropean playboy type. An intellectual European playboy.