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Laughing, she grabs a napkin off the tray and wipes my mouth with it, then hers. "Yes, I'll call you Rick. Happy now?"
"I am. Thank you." I have no idea why it's important to me that she calls me Rick, but I feel relieved when she agrees to do that. It's ridiculous. But I decide I've needed more ridiculousness in my life. And besides, who gives a toss? She's the only one who'll know I practically begged her to use my nickname.
Maddie spears the quiche with a fork, tears off a piece, and holds it near my mouth.
I can't resist her, whether she's tempting me with her body or with food, so I eat the mouthful of quiche. "That's good too. You should try it."
She eats a bite, humming her approval. "How did you like Dex's book?"
"Ah…it's interesting."
"That doesn't sound like a rave review."
"It's all about sex. A clown shags a bearded lady while they're riding the ghost train, then he runs off and shags the bloke who does the magic show. After that, he runs into a complete stranger who turns out to be a hermaphrodite, and they do it several times in ways that seem physically impossible. That's as far as I've gotten." I groan and rub my forehead. "How can I publish this? It's not Dexter Armstrong-Hill material. It's fluff that belongs in an adult magazine."
"Doesn't sex sell? That's what I've always heard."
"That's not the point. I can't publish this book. Everyone will expect Dexter to produce another poignant work of literary fiction, not a collection of erotica that has no discernible plot. It's one sex scene after another. The characters barely speak to each other, and all the protagonist thinks about is who he can get a leg over with next."
"Is it badly written?"
Shrugging, I grab a waffle sandwich and shove a huge bite of it into my mouth. And I speak while I'm still chewing. "No idea. Can't see past the bizarre sex."
"How many chapters did you read?"
I hold up four fingers while I devour the rest of my waffle sandwich. The food is excellent, but I have no ruddy clue what to do about Dexter's book.
"Let me read it," Maddie says. "I'm sure Dex won't mind, and maybe I can help you figure out what to do."
"I'm meant to read it. I am the publisher, after all."
"But you're getting so stressed out about this." She settles her head on my shoulder. "Let me help you. Please. I want to do it."
"You're volunteering to read about carnival people having sex in bizarre places?"
"Sure. Why not?"
I shake my head. "Can't believe Dexter wrote that rubbish."
"Let me read the rest of it, then we'll decide if he's trying to feed you a load of garbage. Okay?"
"All right. I should pay you as my consulting editor."
"I don't want you to pay me. This isn't business. I'm doing it foryou, because I like you and want to help."
"That's very generous, Maddie." I hook an arm around her waist and pull her close. "Let's finish our breakfast, then play silly buggers all day. We can worry about Dex's book later."
"Play what?" she asks with a laugh.
"Silly buggers. It means let's behave like silly, annoying fools who don't care about anything except having a jolly good time."
"I'm all in for that."
While she feeds me a blackberry with a mint leaf on top, I consider what we should do today. Yesterday, we made a list of the activities we wanted to try, which were all things neither of us has ever done before. It's an exhaustive list. Deciding on a starting point is a hard choice.
Once we've finished our breakfast, Maddie wants to have a shower. I want to join her, but she issues a command I can't refuse—because she's so adorably convincing. She says I need to ring my father and "rip that scab off." By that, she means I need to inform him of what's going on with the Danisha Davies book.
I expect him to shout at me. Why, I have no idea. Edward Hunter never shouts or gets boiling mad. But when I ring him, I still expect anger in response. After I've explained the situation, my father stays silent for what feels like an eternity, though it's only a few seconds.
