Flirting With Forever by Gwyn Cready (new books to read TXT) 📕

don’t get me wrong—just isn’t what moves me anymore. It’s the new guard pushing the old guard, the Jackets of the world, out of the way. Not that Mr. Sprague here wil ever be going hungry, right?” He gave Jacket an affectionate thump on the back, and Jacket grimaced. “I’m looking for something new, something that knocks your loafers off, something that says in the context of everything that’s come before me, ‘This is where I stand,’ you know what I mean? Not an iconoclast for iconoclast’s sake. A synthesizer. Someone who stands upon the shoulders of giants and doesn’t say …”

“‘Fuck you’?” Jacket suggested.

“Wel ,” Bal said, pushing his thick black frames up with a finger, “I think I was going for ‘Y’al be damned,’ but I suppose ‘fuck you’ captures the essence as wel . Someone who stands on the shoulders of giants and doesn’t say ‘fuck you,’ but says, ‘I understand, and I see even more.’ Do you see what I mean?”

Jacket tipped the beer and swal owed thoughtful y.

“Sounds like an irritating little sod to me.”

Peter crossed his arms and slouched against the counter. “You’re a patron?” he said to Bal . “A col ector?”

Bal beamed. “As if my life depended on it.”

“I can see where you find the ‘fuck yous’ of the world tiresome,” Peter said. “They betray a lack of substance. It’s al rhetoric. And when the posturing’s done, where are you?”

“Exactly,” Bal said, and Cam postured a discreet middle finger in Peter’s direction.

Bal rubbed his hands. “Wel , Cam, I hate to chat and run, but the Gators are on in half an hour.”

Cam silenced Jeanne with a sharp look. “No problem, Mr. Bal . I real y appreciate the ride.” She gestured for Jeanne to fol ow as she walked Bal to the elevator. When the elevator door closed behind him, Cam whispered, “How did he get here?”

“What do you mean, ‘How did he get here?’ The same way you did. He landed at your desk.”

“Couldn’t have. No Amazon in 1673.”

“Amazon?”

Peter appeared behind them. He smiled. “Do you mean the river?”

Cam didn’t say anything. Jeanne gave her a look and said, “Yes.”

“Ah. I’m afraid the river did exist in 1673. And for a good deal before that. I’m certain of it.”

“Thank you,” Jeanne said.

Cam rol ed her eyes and jabbed the DOWN button.

“No, no, no,” he said, holding up his palms. “I cannot stay. Thank you for the kind offer, though. I am most sensible of your generous hospitality.”

Jeanne giggled, and Cam shot her a glare that would have ignited marble.

Ignoring this, Jeanne said, “Do you need a ride? I’m heading back to the office. I mean, like, what exactly do you do now?” She met Cam’s eye in a quick sidelong glance.

“What town do I have the pleasure of visiting?”

“Mount Lebanon,” Cam said dryly.

“There is a smal public house I spotted across Mount Lebanon’s strand. I believe I shal retire there.”

“For the night? It doesn’t work like that here.”

“Don’t fret, Miss Turner. I’m very resourceful.”

“So, you’re not going to go. You’l stay?”

“Jesus, Jeanne.” Cam looked to see if Jacket was nearby, but he seemed to have disappeared into the studio. “He can stay or he can go. I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

Peter clapped his hands together. “There you have it. A prettier invitation a man could not desire.”

The elevator dinged, and Cam pressed the security button. When the door slid open, she leaned in and pressed 1. “ ’Bye.”

Peter made a courtly bow and stepped through the door.

Jeanne giggled again. “You know who he reminds me of

? Cary Grant.”

Cam smacked her forehead. “Christ,” she muttered, then barked “No!” at Peter when she caught him eyeing the buttons. “Don’t touch anything. Just get out when the door opens.”

Jeanne squawked, “Oh, wait!” as the doors drifted closed, and lunged to get an arm in but Cam blocked it.

“Now what?” Cam demanded when the DOWN button went dark. “Were you planning to ask him to the prom?”

“Your key,” Jeanne said, crossing her arms. “He’s got it.”

32

Jeanne waved at the Carnegie’s night guard and made her way down the long hal way. Eight on a Thursday, and she hadn’t even logged on. If she were going to pass Biology and get a degree, she had better stop being the backstop for every weird problem her boss couldn’t field, get her ass in that chair and start the virtual frog dissection.

She tugged open the door that led to the