Like Warm Sun on Nekkid Bottoms - Charles Austen [161]
“Give me that chance at least,” I said.
Her happy expression faltered slightly, and for a moment I thought she might turn and walk away from me, but instead she leaped down from the stage, ran into my arms, and held me as though she would die without my touch, as I knew, in that moment, that I would die without hers.
After a long, sweet, passionate embrace, we finally pulled apart and smiled at one another, forgetting for the moment that everyone she knew surrounded us. But then they reminded us by breaking into sustained applause.
As I stood there, joyous, smiling, and erect (ho hum), I leaned toward her, her lips so close to mine, the kiss I needed to sustain me so near, and I knew I would never feel a happier, or warmer, or more perfect moment in my life.
Which is just about when Grandfather showed up.
“Dear GOD, are you insane?”
“Grandfather!” I said, absolutely floored by his presence. “What are YOU doing here?”
The crowd parted, pushed aside by the old man’s palpable fury, and opened a clear path between him and me. I said a quick prayer that he was unarmed.
He stood—fully dressed in suit and tie—with Manschingloss, Aunt Helena, and Uncle Pjuter. I could see Biddleby in the car, parked just outside the square and—was that Woodruff near the statue of Homer? What an odd and unexpected assortment of characters.
“Grandfather, let me explain…”
Wisper took my hand, so tightly I couldn’t have let go even if I’d wanted to, which I didn’t.
“There’s nothing to explain,” she told the elder Wopplesdown. “Corky and I are here—together—in my home town, and we don’t give a shit about your money.”
“Ooooh,” Grandfather growled, smiling slightly, a lion playing with his food, “is that so? Did I not hear him just bid three million dollars for you? Is that how much you don’t give a…a shit, as you so eloquently put it—about my money?”
“Ah,” I said, suddenly more nervous. “So you’ve been here awhile apparently. Well, you see, it’s like this…”
“Has he got three million dollars?” Sophie asked.
I turned to see her, still beside Morgan, smiling and bouncing with giddy glee.
“’Cause if he has,” she said. “He can afford to pay the hotel bill.”
She looked at me, smiling. “I knew you guys weren’t real criminals,” she said, snuggling in under Morgan’s arm. “Ya’ll are too sweet.”
“Hotel bills are one thing. But you are not giving this woman three millions dollars,” Grandfather snarled.
“It’s for charity, Grandfather,” I told him, helpfully, “and therefore tax deductible.”
“I don’t care if I get coupons, a hooker, and a plastic toy. There is a principle here, and you are not handing a dime of my money to these nudists!”
“It’s not your money. I have mother’s trust…”
“Which I control until your thirtieth birthday—unless I determine you are unfit—which you clearly are.”
There was a stunned silence during which my heart stopped beating. Wisper looked at me with serious concern, as I’m certain I went a little pale.
A little. Like the arctic in winter is a little cold.
“Corky?” she asked.
When I said nothing, she touched my chest, and I came back to the land of the living as if I’d been zapped by one of those heartunstopping paddle-thingies firemen and calm doctors use.
“Fine,” I said. “I…or rather we…” I corrected, which pleased Wisper no end, “…don’t need your money. Or mine. Because it is mine. But I still don’t need it.”
“Really, Cecil,” Helena interjected. “Don’t be such an ass.”
In a fury, he turned to her, and I almost laughed out loud as his mind completely derailed.
Caused by the fact that Helena and Pjuter were completely naked.
Waboombas was right. Helena was kinda hot.
“He’s old enough to control his own money,” Helena spat, “and nudists have rights. The boy made a legitimate bid, and he needs to make good on it.”
Grandfather’s lips quivered, his eyes tested their sockets’ ability to contain them, and for a moment he was rendered completely mute.
But unfortunately, only for a moment.
“Soooooo,” he finally managed to say.