Dov stood up and shook the sculptor's calloused hand solemnly. "You can count on my support, Mr. Agparak," he said. "Can I count on yours?"
Agparak didn't answer right away. "I did mention that your sister's already been here?" he asked.
There was something in the way he said it that set off a little alarm bell in Dov's mind. Oh wow. This is the guy Peez slept with? Did she do it to cinch his support for her taking over the company? That skanky little—! Naaahhh. That's not her style. Still, I'll bet it didn't hurt her chances of winning him over to her side. And it sure as hell didn't do her any harm either.
Dov applied a liberal coating of Smile #98.2 and said, "Mr. Agparak, I fully understand. You want to consider all your options before making a commitment. I can respect that. But more than that, after what you've told me about your art and its purpose, I really respect you. And I'm not just saying that to kiss up, either. I mean it. Whichever way you throw your influence, it's been an honor to meet you." He released his grip on the sculptor's hand and concluded: "So, would you mind calling me a taxi back to the airport?"
"Sure, no problem." Agparak looked genuinely pleased and flattered by what Dov had had to say. He whipped out a cell phone the size of a pack of bubble gum and put in the call, then said, "It's on the way. Want another cup of coffee while you wait?"
"Sure, thanks. Light and sweet."
"What kind?"
"You're kidding, right? I saw you just have the one can of Maxwell House in your cupboard, you populist rebel, you."
"Right, but I'm talking about the 'light and sweet' part. I'm a lousy host for not asking you before: cream, half-and-half, whole milk, one percent, two, skim, cow's milk, goat's, white sugar, brown, Demerara, granulated, lump, cube, saccharine, aspartame—?"
Dov's scream split Alex Trebek's head wide open.
Chapter Thirteen
"You told the Reverend Everything what?" Teddy Tumtum demanded, button eyes fairly bugging out of his squishy fabric skull.
"I told him that I was thinking about quitting," Peez replied in a calm voice. "You know: giving up on the competition for backing, letting the chips fall where they may as far as who gets to run the company after Mom— I mean, who gets to run the company next. Why are you acting like it's such a big deal?"
She had rented a car at the airport and was driving to the prearranged meeting spot that Sam Turkey Feather had proposed, deep in the heart of a Tucson shopping mall. His choice of rendezvous had puzzled Peez, but only for a little while. She no longer bothered herself over the possible hidden agendas of everyone she encountered. If Edwina could have known, she would have been so proud of her little girclass="underline" Peez was finally learning to go with the flow.
Not so Teddy Tumtum. The only flow the little stuffed bear might conceivably go with was a river of blazing lava a mile wide, oozing its way down Mt. What-the-hell?! Peez had taken him out of the carry-on bag and strapped him into the passenger's seat beside her, hoping that the scenery would distract him. He hadn't been civil since the instant she'd told him about all that he'd missed during her visit to the Immersionarium.
"I knew it," the bear said, gazing up at the roof of the rental car as if it were about to split open so that the angels of mercy might reach in and snatch him away, ending his misery. "I knew this would happen if I closed my eyes for one second. I blame myself."
"Stop that; you sound like a stereotypical Jewish grandmother," Peez said gently. "Anyway, you can't close your eyes."
"But I can take a time-out," Teddy Tumtum argued. "Especially if some people I could mention pack me headfirst all the way at the very bottom of their carry-on bag, where old breath mints go to die, and leave me there, alone, in the dark. Oh, it's no better than you think I deserve, I'm sure. After all, what have I ever done for you? Just given you years and years of unconditional love and support and guidance is all! Helped you, counseled you, kept you from making an idiot of yourself more times than I can count on these threadbare old paws of mine. Look at these pads! Just look at them!" He stuck out his fuzzy arms and gave her an imploring look.
"What's wrong with them?" Peez asked the question even though she knew she'd regret it.
"Wrong? Nothing ... if you like rags! When I was first confected, these paws were suede! Now what are they? Tattered and frayed, worn down to chiffon, do you hear me? To chiffon! Would it kill you to pick up a needle and thread, give them a stitch here, a stitch there, maybe even applique a fresh set of pads onto them? But no. That you don't have time for. But for quitting, for giving up, for throwing in the goddam towel, for that you've got all the time in the world! For that you make time!"
Peez sighed. "Right now I'm tempted to ask directions to the Grand Canyon and drive us both over the edge," she said. "That's sure as hell where you're driving me. I don't know why you're carrying on like a crazy thing: I said I changed my mind. Or did you just stop listening to me at the point where you could start hollering your lint-filled head off for no good reason? Read my lips: I'm not going to quit the battle for the company directorship."
"Oh, puh-lease." Teddy Tumtum sneered better than a corps of trained sixteen-year- old mall rats. "So you're not quitting. Read my mouth stitches: Biiig deeal. You say you're back in the fight, but as what? A five-star general or some poor moop who got drafted when he wasn't looking?"
"What makes you think I won't give this everything I've got?"
"Don't try to fool me: I can tell. Who knows you, baby? You're still facing the fight of your financial life with that cutthroat baby brother of yours, and you're just gonna phone it in. And why? Because ittoo Peezie-pie went and gots her dewicate iwooshuns awww bwoke. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Po', po' ickle Peezie."
"I got my what broke?" Peez asked.
"Your illusions," the bear said, dropping the baby talk. "So the Reverend Everything's all about show biz, and Ray Rah's gang is all partay and pretending to be young, and Fiorella gave you the brush-off, and Agparak gave you— Okay, so maybe you did get something good out of that visit, but still, you're sniveling around because Edwina's top clients either don't want to know you or you don't want to know them. Why? Because you think they're phonies. So what? The checks don't bounce."
"Teddy Tumtum, it's not just about the money."
"What, do I look like I was stuffed yesterday? It is so too!"
Peez shook her head and fixed her eyes on the road. "There's no talking to you when you're like this," she said. "I give up."
"Yes, you're good at that," said Teddy Tumtum, smugly getting in the last word.
* * *
"Mr. Turkey Feather, I presume?" Peez said, extending her hand to the Native American spiritual leader. They had met, as previously arranged, outside The Gap. (To quote Sam, "These days it's the closest we can come to heading someone off at the pass.") "Or do you prefer Turkey Plucker?"
Sam's eyes opened a little wider in pleased surprise. "How did you know that?"
"I like to do my research," Peez replied. "I feel it's a courtesy to the client to know everything you can about him or her."
"Commendable. May I take your bag, Ms. Godz?"
"What bag?" Peez looked to left and right, puzzled. She'd left her carryon safely locked away in the rental car.
"The one with your chief research assistant packed inside," Sam said. "The bear?"
"How do you know about Teddy Tumtum?" Peez blurted.
The Native American laughed. "You're not the only one who does research. If we both make it a point to know as much about the other as possible, we can call it courtesy instead of espionage. And yes, I would prefer if you called me by Turkey Plucker, though if you really want to know what I'd like the most, just call me Sam."