Faking It - Crusie Jennifer - Страница 28

“Doughnut?” Davy said.

Nadine sighed and opened a cupboard, taking down a loaf of whole wheat. “According to Grandma, there are two kinds of men in the world, doughnuts and muffins.”

“Is there anybody in your family who’s sane?”

“Define ‘sane’.” Nadine dropped two pieces of bread in Gwen’s yellow Fiesta toaster.

“Never mind,” Davy said. “Doughnuts and muffins.”

“Doughnuts are the guys that make you drool,” Nadine said, taking a jar of peanut butter from the cupboard. “They’re gorgeous and crispy and covered with chocolate icing and you see one and you have to have it, and if you don’t get it, you think about it all day and then you go back for it anyway because it’s a doughnut.”

“Put some toast in for me when yours is done,” Davy said, suddenly ravenous.

Nadine pushed the bakery bag toward him. “There are pineapple-orange muffins in there.”

Davy fished one out. “You have a thing for pineapple-orange?”

“We have a thing for tangy,” Nadine said. “We like the twist.”

“I picked that up,” Davy said. “So doughnuts make you drool.”

“Right. Whereas muffins just sort of sit there all lumpy, looking alike, no chocolate icing at all.”

Davy looked at his muffin. It had a high golden crown, not lumpy at all. He shrugged and peeled the top off and took a bite. Tangy.

“And while muffins may be excellent,” Nadine went on, “especially the pineapple-orange ones, they’re no doughnuts.”

“So doughnuts are good,” Davy said, trying to keep up his end of the conversation.

“Well, yeah, for one night,” Nadine said, as her toast popped. She dropped in two more pieces for Davy and then dug into the peanut butter, slathering it on her bread like spackle. “But then the next morning, they’re not crisp anymore, and the icing is all stuck to the bag, and they have watery stuff all over them, and they’re icky and awful. You can’t keep a doughnut overnight.”

“Ah,” Davy said. “But a muffin-”

“Is actually better the next day,” Nadine finished. “Muffins are for the long haul and they always taste good. They don’t have that oh-my-God-I-have-to-have-that thing that the doughnuts have going for them, but you still want them the next morning.” She bit into her toast with strong white teeth that were a testament to Dr. Mark.

“And Burton is a doughnut,” Davy said.

“The jury is still out,” Nadine said through her peanut butter. “I find him quite muffiny, but I may be kidding myself.”

“You’re kidding yourself.”

“Maybe not,” Nadine said as Davy’s toast popped. “I think he gets me.”

“In that case, hold on to him.” Davy leaned across the table and took his toast. “He’s one in a million.”

“That’s my plan.” Nadine put her glass in the sink. “I have to go brush my teeth. It was lovely talking to you. Oh, and I met your friend Simon on the stairs this morning. He’s lovely, too.”

“Thanks, I’ll tell him,” Davy said. Then, unable to resist the impulse, he said, “So what am I? Doughnut or muffin?”

“Jury’s still out on you, too,” Nadine said as she came around the table. “Grandma thinks you’re a muffin pretending to be a doughnut. Dad thinks you’re a doughnut pretending to be a muffin.”

“And your Aunt Tilda?”

“Aunt Tilda says you’re a doughnut and she’s on a diet. But she lies about the diet part.” Nadine eyed him carefully. “So if you’re a doughnut, you should probably leave although we might miss you,”

“You might?” Davy said, surprised.

“Yes,” Nadine said. “You may blend nicely. It’s too soon to tell. So be a muffin.” She patted him on the shoulder and headed for the door.

“I’ll try,” Davy said, slightly confused. “Hey, Nadine.”

Nadine stuck her head back through the door.

“What’s Simon?”

“Doughnut,” Nadine said. “With sprinkles.”

“You’re too young to know about sprinkles,” Davy said severely.

Nadine rolled her eyes. “You have no idea what I’m too young for, Grandpa,” she said and turned, only to run into Simon.

“Hello, Nadine,” Simon said, faintly British and perfectly groomed.

Nadine blushed and nodded and then ran up the stairs, coming back again to say, “Davy, can you watch Steve while I’m at the dentist?”

Davy looked down at Steve, who looked back at him with patent distrust. “Sure. We shared a bed last night. We’re buddies.”

Steve drew in air through his nose and honked.

When Nadine was gone, Simon said, “Did I say something rude to make her blush?”

“No.” Davy handed him the bakery bag. “Have a muffin.”

“It’s too early for sweets,” Simon said. “Is there a decent restaurant nearby that serves breakfast?”

“I keep forgetting what a pain in the ass you are,” Davy said. “You’ve lived in America for twenty years. Eat badly, damn it.”

“Bad night?” Simon said, pushing the bag away.

“It would have been better if you hadn’t co-opted my bed,” Davy lied.

“Louise,” Simon said, his voice heavy with respect. “I love American women.”

“Louise may not be representative,” Davy said.

“Louise may be anything she wants,” Simon said. “Extraordinarily gifted.”

“Oh, good for you.” Davy finished off his juice and went around the table to put his glass in the sink.

“What are you so grumpy about? Didn’t you spend the night with your Betty Boop?”

“Tilda,” Davy said. “And yes, I did.”

“Oh,” Simon said. “I gather my sympathies are in order.”

“I’m working on it,” Davy said. “Why are you here?”

“I got a phone call from Rabbit.” Simon settled in at the table. “He seemed a trifle upset.”

“I never touched him.” Davy put the juice away.

“He seems to think someone has put out a contract on you, old boy.”

Davy closed the refrigerator door and considered it. “A hit? On me? Nah.”

“He implied it was an angry woman, which made it more plausible. He also seemed especially concerned that we knew that he had nothing to do with it.”

“That’s Rabbit for you,” Davy said. “He hears about it and wants his ass covered. But I’m not buying it. Tilda isn’t that mad.” Then he remembered the night before. “Oh. Clea.”

“Exactly.”

Davy leaned against the table. “Well, she does like men doing things for her. But I don’t think so. It’s not her MO.”

“He seemed fairly serious, so I flew up,” Simon said virtuously.

“You were bored so you flew up,” Davy said. “And what are you planning on doing, now that you’re here? Because I don’t have time to entertain you, even if you did pay my rent.”

“I thought I’d visit some old haunts-”

“Like the jail?”

“-and then see if you needed any help later with-”

“No,” Davy said.

“Solely in an advisory capacity,” Simon said.

“You get caught again, they’ll throw away the key. And as much as you annoy me, having this conversation on a phone looking at you in an orange jumpsuit would be worse.”

“Are you going to break in again?” Simon said, his voice serious.

“Yes,” Davy said. “I don’t want to, but there are still things in there I need. But not right away. I shot off my mouth to Clea and got her all worked up. I’m going to have to wait a couple of days until she’s distracted with something else.”

“You’re going to need me,” Simon said.

“Maybe for the burglary,” Davy said. “But not on site. You can advise from Miami.”

“And leave Louise?” Simon said.

Davy heard a sound from the doorway and turned to see Eve, blonde, blue-eyed, and fresh-scrubbed in a pink T-shirt that made her look younger than her daughter.

“Morning, Eve,” he said, smiling at her. “This is my friend Simon.”

“Oh.” Eve looked up at Simon and blushed and turned away. “Welcome to Columbus.”

“Thank you.” Simon smiled back at her, avuncular. “It’s a beautiful city.”

“ German Village is nice,” Eve said, a little inanely. She took a muffin from the bag and retreated to the door. “Have a nice stay,” she said over her shoulder.