Talk Nerdy to Me

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Charlie wished there weren't so many damned people who knew about this hovercraft. Apparently Rick would have found out, regardless, but Charlie didn't like the idea that Manny and Kyle were in on it. What did Charlie know about these two men? Nothing.

  He turned toward the backseat. "Are we all agreed that we don't talk about this invention to anyone?"

  "Sure thing," Manny said.

  "No problem," Kyle added.

  Charlie figured that was about the best he could do, short of threatening them with. . . something. Charlie wasn't into that. "And Rick, you're cool with keeping this quiet, right?"

  "You betcha, cuz. I have a feeling I'll be too busy with a certain Eunice Piven to care about some purple hovercraft."

  Charlie considered mentioning Eunice's alien abduction claim but decided against it. Rick was a big boy. He could take care of himself.

  Rick braked the Subaru at the four-way stop. "Speaking of inventions, have you heard what your mom and my mom are up to?"

  "Well, I know they were talking about a new sign out front."

  "This is way more than a new sign, cuz." Rick accelerated through the intersection. "This is a whole new image.

  They're thinking of ditching the old name altogether."

  Charlie frowned. "Why? What's wrong with the Pastry Parlor?"

  "Too tame, I guess."

  "Too tame? Charlie could have sworn he heard a snort from the backseat. "It's a bakery, not a massage parlor."

  "Don't give them any ideas," Rick said. "That could be next."

  Charlie glanced over at his cousin. "Okay, what's going on?"

  "It started with the cinnamon buns."

  "Yeah." Charlie could go for one right now. In the excitement of Eve's hovercraft, he'd forgotten all about dinner.

  "Here's how they tell it. A couple of days ago they had one of those buns in the case and it had one lone raisin at the top, right in the middle. A customer called it a 'booby bun.' She said if they had any more like that, she'd take them home to her husband as a joke."

  "Hm." Charlie had a feeling he wasn't going to like this.

  "So they promised to make some more. Turns out the woman spread the word, and for the past two days there's been a run on booby buns. They couldn't bake those things fast enough. When I showed up this afternoon they'd already taken in more in one day than they normally earn in a week."

  Now there was no doubt that Kyle and Manny were quietly cracking up in the backseat.

  "It's probably just a fad." Charlie sure as hell hoped so. The thought of his mother in the booby buns business wasn't a comfy one.

  "Maybe." Rick seemed to be trying not to laugh. "But they're pretty high on the success of those buns. There was some talk of expanding the offerings."

  Charlie turned to him in horror. "Like what, for God's sake?"

  "Like tonight they're going to create bawdy bread-sticks."

  That should give his cousin plenty to think about. Rick was pleased with himself as he dropped Charlie off at the Rack and Balls and drove on over to his mother's house. Bless his mother and Aunt Rose for dabbling in X-rated bakery products. That would help distract Charlie, and right now Rick wanted Charlie to be very distracted. Rick needed to raise some cash.

  That would have been simpler if his mother had been able to loan him a couple hundred grand, but she'd said that was impossible. If he'd told her it was life or death, she might have found a way to get the money, maybe put the bakery up as collateral. After all, he was her only kid. But he hadn't wanted to scare her, and now it might not be necessary.

  Maybe his luck was finally turning. If Charlie, the family brainiac, thought the hovercraft was a valuable invention, then Rick would make book that it was extremely valuable. Charlie's comments were always on the conservative side.

  Rick didn't think it would take much effort to secretly get some pictures of the hovercraft. Then maybe he could temporarily borrow some of the plans he'd noticed sitting on Eve's workbench. All he needed was enough info to sell the concept to the highest bidder. Eve made good money. She really didn't need the income from this thing. But Rick did.

  After Rick dropped Charlie off, Manny moved up to the front passenger seat. "So what do you think of that hovercraft?"

  "Ah, I think it's bogus," Rick said. "Veggie fuel? Come on! I was just trying to be polite."

  "Personally, I think it's very cool," Kyle said from the backseat. "I wouldn't mind owning one of those things. I'd soup up the engine, though. Veggie fuel sounds like a wimpy fuel, if you know what I mean. No chick will be impressed by a guy who's burning broccoli. You gotta have high-octane performance if you wanna get laid."

  "Exactly," Rick said. "She's adding in all this environmental crap, and that won't be popular with the crowd who would buy something like that. It'll go nowhere."

  Manny shifted in his seat. "You could be right. I think the X-rated bakery is a much more solid concept. Your mom and aunt are smart ladies. Some businesses are undercapitalized, but I don't get that feeling about the bakery."

  "They do all right." Rick knew where this was leading.

  "Those booby buns are great-tasting, too," Kyle said. "Almost as good as the real thing. Which gives me an idea. I could get a jar of vanilla frosting and maybe some raisins and try putting that on my girlfriend's—"

  Manny groaned. "Spare us your adolescent sexual fantasies just this once, okay? What we need to find out here is what happened when Rick had that private little conference with his mother. Can she come up with the money or can't she?"

  "I'm sure she can." Rick wasn't about to tell either of these guys that his original plan to get the money from his mother was looking dicey. He had another plan, a brilliant plan, and it wouldn't involve sinking his mother into debt. "It might take a few days for her to get it, but everything's looking good."

  "Peterson will be glad to hear that." Manny reached for the cell phone clipped to his belt. "I need to check in and let him know we're on schedule."

  Peterson. Just the mention of his name made Rick want to pee his pants. To look at the guy you'd think he was an alderman at his church and enjoyed reading bedtime stories to the kiddies. There was a chance he even did those things, which made him all the creepier.

  Blond and rosy-cheeked, Peterson was the kind of person you'd invite to a family picnic. You might even ask him to bring the volleyball net and the horseshoes. And he'd do it, smiling that casual smile of his. Not even his eyes gave him away. They were an innocent blue with crinkles at the corners.

  The average Joe, especially if he happened to be lucky, didn't have to worry about a man like Peterson. But if a guy had a streak of bad luck and had to go to Peterson for some ready cash, and if that streak of bad luck refused to go away no matter what, well, then that guy had to worry about Peterson. Peterson liked loaning money. And he expected to get it back. Or else.

  On the early train to New York the next morning, Eve had the urge to call her sister Denise. They hadn't talked in weeks, partly because every time Eve had contact with Denise she ended up feeling stupid. A long time ago their parents had divided up the turf. Eve was designated the pretty one and Denise was labeled the smart one.

  Eve wondered if Denise was as unhappy with her role as Eve was with hers. But Eve couldn't argue with the fact that she sucked eggs when it came to school. She loved to learn, but only on her own terms. If she'd been an ugly kid her parents might have insisted she at least graduate from high school, but she'd been cursed with beauty, so they'd guided her relentlessly into a modeling career.

  She didn't like it much, but a person had to make money somehow. And the career gave her periods of down time for reading books on all the subjects she loved, such as alternative fuels and futuristic transportation options. She dreamed of pioneering improvements that would clear the air and slow the drain on fossil fuels.

  She'd always hidden those dreams, both from her parents and especially from Denise, for fear everyone would laugh. But if Charlie thought the h
overcraft had potential, then Eve finally had something to tell Denise that her brainy sister might find interesting.

  Denise wouldn't have left her apartment for her first class yet. Pulling out her cell phone, Eve hit the speed-dial. Sisters should be closer than she and Denise were, but she'd never known how to bridge the gap. The hovercraft might be just the thing.

  Halfway through the first ring, Denise picked up. "Hey, glamour girl. You must be on the train."

  "Why would you think I'm on the train?"

  "You always call me from the train."

  "I do not." But it was true. On the train she had time to think about things like why she and Denise didn't have the bond that Hallmark said they were supposed to have. Then she'd drum up some excuse to call and see if that bond had mysteriously developed since the last time they'd talked.

  "Yes you do, but that's okay. You have demands on your time."

  Eve sighed. Was Denise being sarcastic or did she really mean it? "You have demands, too. We're both busy. I know you have class, so—"

  "I have to walk out the door in five minutes. What's up?"

  The clock was ticking. Eve pictured her sister standing by the door in all her orderly perfection—short black hair washed and styled, black pantsuit free of all wrinkles, white blouse spotless, briefcase packed with the notes she'd need for the day. Denise was always ahead of schedule, which left time for interruptions like Eve's phone call.

  Eve, on the other hand, was usually behind schedule, distracted by the ideas churning in her head like fruit in a blender. But one of those projects might turn into something great. She wanted to tell Denise about the hovercraft, but she thought it would be classier to lead up to it. Unfortunately, with only five minutes ... less than five minutes, now, she didn't have much time to lead up.

  "Eve? You still there?"

  "Uh, yeah." She saw the conductor coming down the aisle. "Hold on a sec." After some searching, she found her ticket stuck between the pages of the book on biomass research she'd brought to read on the train. She handed it to the conductor, and before she could reconsider, she blurted out her news. "Denise, I've invented something."

  A full second passed before Denise spoke. "Invented something? What do you mean?"

  "I've had this idea for a long time, and now that I have a house with a garage, I've been designing it. The bugs aren't worked out yet, but a friend of mine who's an engineer thinks that it has—"

  "Back up. You're building something in your garage! Eve, I can't even begin to take this in. You're a model, not a... a... You don't invent things. Period. That's crazy."

  Eve should have expected this reaction, but it got to her, anyway. "I guess you forgot the time I tied a rocket to the back of my Barbie and shot her over the neighbors' roof."

  Denise gasped. "You've invented a personal rocket system?"

  "Not exactly, but—"

  "Omigod. It's all coming back to me. The motorized wagon that ran us into the duck pond. The catapult that smashed a two-hundred-year-old stained-glass window at the church. Disaster at every turn."

  "Denise, it wasn't that bad." Those things had happened before Eve had learned to keep her inventions a secret.

  "Oh yes it was. Barbie's leg ended up in Mrs. Jorgen-son's flower bed and one arm was in the apple tree behind the Mastersons' house. We never found her head, except I swear that Edgar Abernathy was using it as a parking lot gizmo for the antenna of his car."

  "I'm not building a rocket," Eve said. That's the next project.

  "I don't care! You could kill yourself, Eve! You're not to work on this anymore, understand?"

  Eve's jaw clenched, exactly the way it used to when she was eight and Denise was a very superior twelve. "It's not a rocket. And I will work on it. Once Charlie helps me iron out the problems, I will really have something."

  "Are you going into the city or going home?"

  "Into the city."

  "When are you coming back?"

  "Wednesday night. Listen, Denise, this is a perfectly legitimate project."

  "Right. I wish I could get there Wednesday night, but I have this awards thing and I'll probably be getting something, so it would look bad if I didn't go. I'll be at your house Thursday morning."

  "What? " Eve sat up straight in her seat as panic set in. She'd need two days to clean to Denise's standards. "You can't come. Sorry. Not that I wouldn't love to have you, but I'm having the ... exterminators on Thursday."

  "For what?"

  "Bugs. It's truly disgusting. You wouldn't believe the invasion of bugs."

  "You're right, I wouldn't believe it." Denise's determined calm was unnerving. "Not in February. Mice, maybe, but not bugs."

  "I meant mice! Mice, bugs, who can tell the difference when they move so fast? Things are scurrying around here all the time. You would hate it, Den. Don't come. Save yourself some trouble."

  "I'll be there by ten."

  "What about your classes? You can't just walk out on your economics classes! Students are depending on you to give them the secrets of Wall Street!"

  "I have a TA who can take over for a couple of days. See you on Thursday. Now, I really have to go."

  "No! It won't work! The plumbing is stopped up! The TV's broken! The washing machine—" But her sister had already disconnected.

  Still clutching the phone, Eve banged her forehead repeatedly against the seat in front of her. She must have fear of success. That was the only explanation for this idiotic phone call to her sister, a phone call that would result in Denise ruining what had promised to be an excellent few days spent with Charhe while they worked on the hovercraft.

  Now bossy Denise would be there getting in the way, right when Eve was about to spend some quality time with Charlie. And that was the crux of it. It wasn't only Denise's interference that Eve was worried about.

  Eve could hold her own in a beauty contest against Denise, but what about a brainy contest? What if the guy in question was an engineer type who would likely choose mind over measurements? What if Denise swooped in and wowed him with her IQ points?

  Eve's reaction to that possibility told her more than she wanted to know about her current state of mind concerning Charlie. She didn't just like him. She had designs on him.

  Suddenly her move to Middlesex took on a whole new meaning. Sure, she'd meant to escape the city and Lyle's proposal. But her motives had been more complicated, apparently. She'd been running away from one thing, but unconsciously running toward something else.

  She wanted more than her little house in a cute New England town and more than a place to create her inventions. She wanted a certain kind of man to live in that house with her. A man pretty much like Charlie. Now that she'd found him, Denise couldn't have him.

  At least her sister wouldn't show up until Thursday morning. If Eunice could keep Rick busy Wednesday night, then Eve would have time alone with Charlie. Just her, a sexy engineer, and a hovercraft in the garage together—the perfect setup to put some moves on her favorite nerd.

  Chapter Five

  The next two days moved slower than an overloaded circuit for Charlie, but finally Wednesday night arrived. The pizza was ordered and all he had to do was hop on his bike, run by his aunt Myrtle's house, get Rick, pick up the pizzas, and head on over to Eve's. Charlie had ordered three pizzas because he couldn't decide what kind Eve would like.

  He'd ended up with one plain cheese—something just about anybody could eat—one with pepperoni and sausage, which was your classic choice, and the third with all veggies, in honor of Eve's veggie fuel. If she couldn't find something to love in that group, then pizza wasn't her thing.

  Two guys and three pizzas on one motorcycle would be tricky, but Charlie was up for it. Still, his life would have been easier if Rick could have picked up the pizzas and met him there. Instead, Rick had loaned his car to Manny and Kyle, who had driven to Hartford on an emergency run for the bakery.

  For two days Charlie had tried not to think about the bakery. He'
d gone out of his way to avoid driving past it. So long as he didn't talk to his mother or his aunt, so long as he didn't drive by the bakery and see some titillating sign out front, he could believe that the booby bun craze was over.

  Apparently Charlie's mother and Aunt Myrtle were treating Manny and Kyle like family, which meant they got to run errands for the bakery. Rick would have been sent to get them if he hadn't mentioned that he and Charlie were going over to Eve's at six. The evening had been billed as nothing more than a social occasion. Charlie trusted his mother and his aunt, but the fewer people who knew about Eve's project, the better.

  Consequently he'd asked Rick to listen for the motorcycle and be ready to leave immediately to forestall any discussion. But when Charlie arrived, his mother's red Volkswagen Beetle was sitting in the drive of Aunt Myrtle's two-story clapboard house. Nobody came to the door when he rang the bell, so he just went in, because his aunt never locked the door.

  That's when he heard the kind of laughter and chatter in the kitchen that indicated that Aunt Myrtle and his mother were in old-fashioned mode. Charlie wasn't an old-fashioned fan. The sugar, the cherry, and the orange wedge seemed like a fine way to eliminate the taste of good whiskey. But his mother and Aunt Myrtle thought it was the height of sophistication.

  Rather than get sucked into that program, Charlie stayed in the entryway. "Rick?" he called out. "Time to get moving!"

  "Come on back here, Charlie!" Rick sounded in no mood to rush off. "You have to get a look at this cookie cutter!"

  Knowing it was probably a mistake, Charlie walked into the kitchen and found his mother, Aunt Myrtle, and Rick at the old oak table at the end of the kitchen with the familiar squatty glasses in their hands and the smell of oranges in the air. Judging from the flushed faces, Charlie estimated Aunt Myrtle had served a couple of rounds already.

  Neither of the two sisters had been born with red hair, but they went to the same hairdresser so they both had red hair now. Aunt Myrtle was the tallest and thinnest, and Charlie's mother was the oldest and plumpest. She was forever trying to diet, but she loved to cook, which was her downfall.