Page 29 of Break Out the Girl

When I nod, I see François wrinkle his nose.

It’s like he’s basically begging me to mess with him. “I think this might actually be the best coffee in the world, London. I bet there isn’t a finer blend in the whole of Paris.”

François’s eyes narrow, but London’s grin expands. “I knew a bloke called Paris once. He had really small feet, and a really big bum. Kind of looked like a human egg, now I come to think of it.”

“And was Paris, from Paris?” I ask him, nudging the donut box in Taliesin’s direction. London stops chewing, his green eyes blinking in confusion. “No. He was from Cardiff. Why do you ask?”

François lets out a slow sigh.

Tally snorts, reaching out a hand. “I’d take some of that best-coffee-in-the-world if there’s enough.” I hand him the cup.

“What did you learn outside, Rory?” he asks.

“François mind-fucked a fisherman for advice. He gave us three boat options.” I look to London. “There's a flat-bottomed crabber with a quiet trolling engine, an aluminum skiff with a loud outboard, and a sailing dinghy with a centerboard that pulls up.” I glance at François. “How big was it again?”

“Sixteen feet,” he replies. “And don’t forget the modern jet boat at the end-slip. It has internal water drives, so no propeller, and it's fast.” François steps forward, eyes on the chart. “The jet boat is the logical choice. At sea, speed is our only viable defense.”

Taliesin and I look to see if London agrees. He has his head cocked on one side, and is frowning. “A jet boat could get gluey.”

Gluey?

“What do you mean?” I ask him.

“Jet boats have a giant straw sucking up the water to squirt it out the back. It would get proper messed up if we’re in the shallows. Silt in the engine and all that cobblers.” He wrinkles his brow. “But the speed would be right handy. Oof, I’ve got to think.”

London flips upside down into a handstand.

“Fucking moron,” Tally mutters, making me pissed.

I don’t like how they treat London. Neither of them knew how jet-boats worked. Just because London processes information differently doesn’t mean it’s OK to call him names. “Cut it out.” I snap.

Taliesin blinks then nods. “Shit. Yeah, you’re right.”

As London moves out of his handstand by dropping into a back bend, then somehow gracefully standing, Tally turns to him. “Sorry, London.”

“For what, Burt? We’re all good. More than good, Super puka actually. I had a brainstorm, boys, proper massive one! Like a supercell brain storm.”

“And?” I ask.

“Why choose?” he exclaims. “Choosing is for losers, innit. We’ll take the jet-boat and tow the dinghy. Bish bash bosh—success!”

“Both?” François raises a skeptical eyebrow. That really seems to be one of his favorite facial expressions. “Explain.”

“We tie the little wooden lady to the back of the fancy boat, then use the jet engine to zoom us across the channel.” His hands are gesturing wildly as if he’s making pizza dough. “We’ll be across lickety-split, but the minute we smell the mud flats, we drop anchor, hop in the dinghy, and have a lovely little sail. Whatcha think? Proper crackin' strategy, innit?”

It is.

I’m impressed but not that surprised. London presents like a clown but I’ve got the feeling he may be the cleverest one among us.

Tally also gives a nod of approval. “That really could work.”

“As long as the procuring of the vessels goes smoothly, then the plan is efficient,” François agrees. “Though the jet-boat could be a challenge.”

London rolls his eyes at me, and gives a theatrical groan. “Doubting Debbie over there is questioning my thieving skills. You chaps stay here and pack up the knick-knacks. I’ll go get it.”

“Just like that?” I ask, my hand darting out to catch his sleeve. “You don’t need help? Lookouts?”

His face turns genuinely puzzled. “I’ve never had them before, Kitten. Huh. Probably not the best time to take on an apprentice anyway. Shivery Shane looks a bit slow on the uptake.” He shoots a cheeky grin at François, and before anyone can stop him, he skips right out of the sliding door.