Turning Idolater by Edward C. Patterson Read Free Book Online Page B

leg,” Sprakie said.
    “Shhh. Thomas, don’t pay him any attention.”
    “I never do,” Thomas said, showing that glorious
dental space.
    “Ouch,” Sprakie said. “That’s a low blow. It may
turn out that I like you after all.”
    Thomas invited Philip to sit. Sprakie, fulfilling
his chaperone duties slid into the fray like a Duenna at a
bullfight. Thomas raised an eyebrow, and Philip shrugged.
    “Coffee?” Thomas asked
    “Never touch the stuff,” Philip said.
    “Then why here?”
    “Welcome to Hustle Central , Mr. Dye,” Sprakie
said.
    “They call it that,” Philip said, “but that’s not
necessarily true in all cases.” He didn’t want Thomas to think that
he was a common hustler. In fact, he was an uncommon hustler and
places like The Imperial Coffee Mug was not his cup of tea
when it came to pinching the herd.
    “Well, maybe something sweet then?” Thomas asked. “A
turnover?”
    Philip smiled. A turnover would be just the
thing. “Apple, if you please.” He winked as Thomas scooted to
the coffee bar.
    “Well, Ishmael,” Sprakie said, “he’s obviously
passed the looks test — not by my standards, but you cruise
on a bell curve. So since you’re going to play this forward, follow
Aunt Sprakie’s next rule of thumb. Find out whether he has any
marketable securities.”
    Philip chuckled, but leaned close to Robert
Sprague’s diamond bejeweled ear.
    “Actually, when he gets back, you’re going to tell
me that you have a hot date and need to leave right away.”
    “You bitch,” Sprakie said, and not unkindly. “You
won’t even let me come along and watch the double scoop of ice
cream for dessert? I can make change, you know. Who’s going work
the credit card machine? Who’s going operate the winch to pry you
two apart?”
    “A hot date,” Philip said underscoring the directive
with a pout and an astringent glare. He meant business. “You have .
. . a hot . . . hot date.”
    “Well, little Ishie,” Sprakie said. “If you insist.
What’s this hot date look like? Well, whoever he is, he’ll be age
appropriate.”
    Philip rapped the table. “Why are you pestering me
about his age? It isn’t the first time I’ve seen an older man.”
    “This one’s much older than he looks. If I didn’t
know better, I’d say he’s been cruising Miss Abelard’s schoolyard
every day.”
    “Shhh. He’s coming back.”
    Thomas returned fumbling turnovers in waxy
napkins.
    “What, none for me?” Sprakie said.
    Thomas shrugged, and then sighed. Sprakie seemed
determined on dampening the occasion. Suddenly, Thomas broke off a
piece of his turnover and offered it across the table.
    “I’m on a diet, Professor Dye.”
    “I am not a Professor. I am a writer.”
    “I know. I know. But don’t you author types wind up
professing somewhere? You know, when the book sales hit the skids
and sell on the used racks only.”
    Thomas smiled. “My book sales are doing just
fine.”
    “Gee, I haven’t seen one of them.”
    “ Vagrant Hollow .”
    Sprakie flinched. “You wrote that one.” He turned to
Philip. “I take it all back. You’ve hit the mother lode. Sprakie
approves.”
    Philip sighed. He hadn’t heard of Vagrant Hollow
by T.D Dye , but if Sprakie had, the more ignorant he. He wanted
his roommate to disappear instantly. Another cutting word and
Philip was determined to pull the leg of the chair out from under
him.
    “Robert,” Thomas said, his eyes dancing like an
imp’s now. “May I inquire why, with the entire world’s wide list of
nicknames, you would chose such a glottal atrocity as Sprakie.”
    Sprakie stood. He suddenly appeared imperious to the
point of demoting The Imperial Coffee Mug to a mere Cup
and Saucer. “My name is Robert Sprague.” He cocked his nose.
“My Dahddy used to call me the little sprig . That became Little Spraguey , and that became a little pukey . So I
changed it to Sprakie. It stuck. It’s my tiara for mere mortals to
admire from afar.”
    Philip