Doyleâ¦â
âRupert.â
âRupert. Iâd like to get a glimpse of him first. From a distance, you know? Not have to commit myself. Without him knowing anything about me.â
âSure. Of course, Dinah. In the interests of not prejudicing your opinion, I can see how youâd want to take your time before you decide whether or not you really want to get to know the man. You might take one look and decide itâs better not to. He might not want to have anything to do with you. Or me.â He laughed again.
âWhatâs the problem?â I was picturing my mother with some impossible kind of man. A married politician? Another mad scientist? âDoes he have a high-profile job or something? Would this create a scandal for him?â
âNo, no.â
âOr is he some kind of criminal?â
Rupert Doyle frowned then bit his lip. âThere have been accusations, and he has felt like a criminal at times, but no. Or rather, it would all depend on who you asked. No, heâs not a criminal although he has been accused of being one.â
âI donât understand.â
âYour father is a representative from a distinct moment in history. An icon in some ways. Not an easy history, not at all. I would say that the very fact heâs alive implicates him. Or so he would see it. You may have the chance to find out about it as you get to know him. If you decided you want to get to know him. But I think the person to give you all this information is your father himself. You need to hear the story from the horseâs mouth, as it were.â
I shook my head.
What was he talking about? I was as unenlightened as ever with all his beating around the bush. âOkay. So. Now. Whatâs his name and where do I find him?â
âYou can findâ¦just a second, Dinah.â
The man with the collapsed face from the front desk was standing in the doorway signaling to Rupert.
Rupert held up an authoritative palm to him. âYeah, yeah, Iâm coming.â He turned back to me. âListen, Dinah. Letâs do it this way, for the sake of Auld Lang Syne. And then we can catch up. Iâd really like to catch up on your mother, too.â
My face must have twisted a little. My expression made him add quickly, âAnd you, of course. Hell, I remember you when you were just a littleââ
The front desk man pointed his thumb toward the street, and said loudly, âCabâs here.â
Rupert said, âLook, we canâ¦hell, I gotta goâ¦got a production meeting atâ¦â He looked at his watch and grimaced. âChrist. It started five minutes ago.â He slapped some money on the counter and started toward the door. I hurried along after him. His last words before he was out thedoor were, âYou meet me here at seven Friday night and Iâll take you there myself. You have a car?â
I nodded.
âGreat. Wouldnât mind seeing the old picaro again myself.â
Â
I idly sharpened pencils. Ian Trutch was locked up with Ash. There were fleeting glimpses of him and whiffs of his aftershave hanging on the air, but that was all. Ash was looking delirious behind her thick lenses. Sheâd taken the clips out of her hair and let it down.
Penelope was declaring all-out war on me. Itâs amazing what a total lack of carnal knowledge, of real sex, can do to a person. I mean, at least if the rest of us werenât actually having sex, we still had our experiences and memories to fall back on, but Penelope⦠Penelope was beginning to show the mental strain that comes with ITDâIncoming Testosterone Deficit.
She had the war drums going strong when we got on to the topic of funds for AIDS awareness and sex education. She had a litany of sexual terrorism tales, nasty little stories on hand to make her case for chastity. Poor Lisa, who was genetically predisposed to being nice to everyone, to her own detriment, got stuck