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
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
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