Talk Nerdy to Me (Nerds, #5)(6)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

"I’m just sayin’." Eunice pushed both arms into the sleeves of the coat and hiked it up on her shoulders with a flap of nylon. "L.A. people aren’t like Yankees."

"All I can tell you is that when I first met Rick he flirted with all the models like crazy. I’m thinking he got involved with one of them. It sure looked like it from the way they both acted."

"Good news." Eunice zipped her jacket. "Can I come over Wednesday night?"

"Why not?" At first Eve had been excited about the prospect of working with Charlie, but then Rick had become part of the mix. Eve would rather have had Charlie all to herself. With Eunice around to distract Rick, Eve might get that quality time alone with Charlie, after all.

"Cool." Eunice opened the door. "Do you think I should leave my phone off for that night?"

Eve grinned at her. "Maybe you should put it on vibrate."

"Come on, I’m serious. I could leave it off and just forget about the extra income for the evening, but maybe Rick would get turned on by listening to me take 900 calls, so I could accomplish two goals at once. What do you think?"

"I have no idea. You have to decide that one." Eve couldn’t even imagine such a scenario. "Tell you what, though. If you bring your phone, take the calls in the house, not in the garage. I don’t want to listen to 900 calls while Charlie and I are working on the hovercraft. We’re dealing with volatile stuff."

Eunice winked. "Gotcha. The way I look at it, we’re both dealing with volatile staff."

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 hovercraft 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."