“We’re visual creatures, love. Don’t worry, you’ll find your man… he may only have five fingers to give you, but if he’s good with them?—”
“Enough, jeez.” My mind latched onto Thad’s stupid comment and all my thoughts jumped to Cage and five of his fingers.
The driver took us straight to Jerry’s lab, in spite of my protesting and desperate pleas for sleep. We didn’t stop for tea, but Jerry had a cast-iron pot of Oolong and three small cups waiting for us when we arrived.
“Excellent! You made it!” Little Jerry bowed as we removed our shoes at the door.
“I’m a zombie, Jerry. Can we do this in say… six to eight hours?” I tossed my purse on the wood floor.
“No, no… I’ll be asleep.”
“This time change kills me every time I visit.” I glared at Thad as he wiggled his eight metal fingers at Jerry. “From now on you need to give me twenty-four hours to acclimate before we do any work.”
They both ignored me, their enamored gazes fixed only to the crazy hand.
“Stop whining, love. You’re much too beautiful to walkaround with your lip sticking out.”
I sighed. “Whatever. Let’s blow up Jerry’s balls so we can get back to the hotel.”
Jerry stopped messing with Mr. Eight Fingers and tipped his chin down, rolling his eyes up to give us both a disapproving look. “I’m not gay. So if that’s some American expression for implying that I’m gay, then?—”
“It’s not.” Thad shook his head.
“Because I’m not.”
My grin, although buried under my deep need for sleep, managed to make a brief appearance. “Oh, I’m sure you get yours, Jerry.”
Nothing ruined a good line quite like two intellectual over-achievers giving the dopey girl in the room a WTF look.
“Is that street talk, love?”
No. It was Everson talk, but apparently I failed to deliver it accurately or in the right context.
“You two would never survive in the wild. You know that, right?” It was a weak recovery, but sleep deprivation left my brain functioning at less than twenty percent.
“Our dear Lake has been in Minnesota too long.” Thad drew out the “O” like sooo-da. “I fear she’s morphed into a throwback from the nineties. Lake, my love, do the women there still wear scrunchies in their hair?”
“Really, Thad? You grew up in Kansas.”
Thad whipped his head around to Jerry.
“Kansas?” Jerry asked. “You said you grew up in Boston and went to MIT.”
Thad shrugged, staring at his prosthetic hand like a woman contemplating her need for a manicure. “True and true.”
“Explain.” Jerry crossed his arms over his chest.
I tried to stifle a laugh. It was quite the sight, seeing a guy who was tall enough to play center in the NBA looking proverbially much smaller than the Asian man who was not tall enough to ride most rollercoasters at Six Flags.
“I did go to MIT and technically I didn’t ‘grow up’ until my last year in college, which happened to be in Boston. But if we’re being technical…” Thad gave me a quick glance with the stink eye “…then one could say I was born and spent my childhood in Kansas.”
I snorted. “Duh, Jerry. How many farming accidents do you suppose happen around Boston?”
“You said you lost your hand and fingers from frostbite while climbing Everest.”
“It was cold that year at harvest time and the machine that nearly took my life was big… and tall, much like Everest.”
Jerry deflated like he’d just discovered his idol was a fraud.
