“No. I just come down once in a while to walk my dog. He likes to walk on the beach.”
“What's with the Band-Aid on your chin?”
“I cut myself shaving.”
He dropped a twenty on the table and stood. “Cut yourself shaving. I like that. You're okay. You can take me home now.”
I dropped him off a block from his house.
“Come back tomorrow,” he said. “Same time. Maybe I'll hire you on as my personal chauffeur.”
GRANDMA WAS SETTING the dinner table when Bob and I got home. The Mooner was slouched on the couch, watching TV.
“Hey,” he said, “how's it going?”
“Can't complain,” I said. “How's it going with you?”
“I don't know, dude. It's just hard to believe there's no more Dealer. I thought the Dealer'd be around forever. I mean, he was doing a service. He was the Dealer.” He shook his head. “It rocks my world, dude.”
“He needs to have another brewski and chill some more,” Grandma said. “And then we'll all have a nice dinner. I always like when there's company for dinner. Especially when it's a man.”
I wasn't sure Mooner counted as a man. Mooner was sort of like Peter Pan on pot. Mooner spent a lot of time in never-never land.
Bob ambled out of the kitchen over to Mooner and gave his crotch a big sniff.
“Hey dude,” Mooner said, “not on the first date, man.”
“I bought myself a car today,” Grandma said. “And the Mooner drove it over here for me.”
I felt my mouth drop open. “But you already have a car. You have Uncle Sandor's Buick.”
“That's true. And don't get me wrong, I think it's a pip of a car. I just decided it didn't fit my new image. I thought I should get something sportier. It was the darnedest thing how it happened. Louise came over to take me driving and she said she heard about how the Dealer was going out of business. And so, of course, we had to hurry over to stock up on Metamucil. And then while we were there I bought a car.”
“You bought a car from Dougie?”
“You bet. And it's a beaut.”
I cut Mooner the death look, but it was lost on him. Mooner's emotional range didn't go that far beyond mellow.
“Wait'll you see your granny's car,” Mooner said. “It's an excellent car.”
“It's a babe car,” Grandma said. “I look just like Christie Brinkley in it.”
David Brinkley, I could believe. Christie was a stretch. But hey, if it made Grandma happy then it was fine by me. “What kind of car is it?”
“It's a 'vette,” Grandma said. “And it's red.”
Stephanie Plum 6 - Hot Six
8
SO MY GRANDMOTHER has a red Corvette, and I have a blue '53 Buick and a big zit on my chin. Hell, it could be worse, I told myself. The zit could be on my nose.
“Besides,” Grandma said, “I know how you like the Buick. I didn't want to take the Buick away from you.”
I nodded and tried to smile. “Excuse me,” I said. “I'm going to wash my hands for dinner.”
I calmly walked to the bathroom, closed and locked the door, looked at myself in the mirror over the sink, and sniffled. A tear leaked out of my left eye. Get a grip, I told myself. It's just a pimple. It'll go away. Yes, but what about the Buick? I asked. The Buick was worrisome. The Buick showed no signs of going away. Another tear leaked out. You're too emotional, I said to the person in the mirror. You're making a big deal over nothing. Probably this is just a temporary hormone imbalance resulting from lack of sleep.