Читать книгу On Common Ground - Tracy Kelleher, Tracy Kelleher - Страница 14

CHAPTER SIX

“LILAH EVAN AS IN SISTERS for Sisters Lilah Evans?” Matt asked.

“I don’t know about this Sisters thing, but I guess so. I didn’t know she was such a big deal. I mean, Mimi said something about her getting some alumni award, but I figured it was because she gave big bucks to Grantham.” Press shifted the large bag of food to one arm and fished the car keys out of his jeans. His dad had given him his old BMW convertible when he graduated from high school. He’d left the keys with a card that his secretary had written.

“I don’t think it was for giving money, dude,” Matt said. “She came and gave a talk at Yale last fall at the Political Union. She founded this group that helps women in Congo. You know about the civil war going on there, right?”

“Sorry. If it happened after the Mesozoic era, I’m pretty ignorant,” Press answered. He stepped off the curb, and like most students, didn’t bother to look either way before heading out into traffic. A Lexus SUV screeched to a halt and let him cross. “C’mon, the smell of all this food is reminding me just how starved I am. Let’s head home.”

Matt chugged along beside, holding his can at his side. “Why I’m even friends with such an ignoramus is beyond me.”

“It’s so you have someone to freely lecture.” He beeped open the car and settled the bag in the backseat.

Matt got in the front passenger seat, and before he even put his seat belt on, twisted around and fished out a take-out container of French fries. “So you’re telling me you don’t want to hear all about the warring factions and about how everyone—and his little brother—is trying to get ahold of the diamonds and gold and other metals in the country?”

Press started up the car. “Not really.” He grabbed a French fry. “Hey, crack your window, would you? The smell of this stuff stays around for days otherwise.”

Matt shook his head, but turned to press the window lever. “How you can worry about the smell in your car when millions are being killed is beyond me, and believe me, it’s mostly women who are being brutalized. And besides, didn’t your mother give you Febreze when you went off to college?”

Press slanted him a skeptical look. “My mother?”

“You’re right. What was I thinking? Maybe you could give her some to use with all her tennis shoes? A handy travel size for her sports bag?”

Press didn’t bother to laugh as he pulled out of the parking lot and into Main Street. Some people, like Matt, had good parents and some people didn’t. It was less painful to discuss the state of world politics. “So where does Lilah Evans fit into the whole scenario?”

And naturally Matt was off and running, summarizing Lilah’s work.

Press stopped at the traffic light on the corner of Adams Road. The university library was on the left and the town’s only movie theater on the right. He recognized some friends from school and honked the horn. Then he glanced over at Matt. “Well, I’m glad someone thinks she can save the world. And I have even greater respect for her because given all the culinary delights possible in our fair city, she had the wisdom to choose Hoagie Palace.”

“Laugh all you want. I’d give anything to ask her about an internship.” Matt took a swig of his drink.

“But I thought you said the name of her organization was something like Sisters for Sisters? Is having a sex change operation part of the price to pay for an internship?” He made the remainder of the lights on Main Street, and they passed without incident through the center of town.

Matt rolled his eyes. “It’d almost be worth it, but I’m not sure Babi˘cka would approve,” he said, referring to his great-grandmother, who lived in town.

“Not to mention your dad and Katarina,” Press said, slowing down the car, just barely, to pass over the speed bumps.

“Yeah, my dad,” Matt grumbled. “He’s giving me so much grief about not having a job yet this summer that I’m almost thinking of moving in with Babi˘cka,” he said.

Press knew that Matt’s childhood hadn’t been the easiest, what with his single mother dying of breast cancer when he was still in high school and only discovering who his dad was at the reading of her will. The truth of the matter was it had come as a shock to Matt’s father, as well. The two had butted heads early on, but the relationship had smoothed out pretty well thanks in large part to Katarina, his stepmom, and Katarina’s grandmother. Babi˘cka’s baking also played a major role, in Press’s opinion.

“You don’t think your great-grandmother would have any cookies on hand, do you?”

Matt took another sip. “Maybe later. For now I really want to get this food to your house before it gets cold.”

“If I didn’t know you to be this bleeding heart do-gooder, I’d say you just want a summer job with this Evans woman so you can get your parents off your back and pad your résumé.”

“Okay, Mr. Professional Cynic, you’re so worldly. How do you think it’ll go down if I introduce myself to Lilah Evans on bended knee with her hoagie in hand—” Matt made the appropriate gestures, spraying some of his drink in the process “—all the while running through my stellar freshman-year grades, my majoring in political science with a concentration in foreign affairs, and that I have a fantastic way to broaden the appeal of her outstanding organization by expanding her concept to Sisters and Brothers for Sisters.”

“I think I need another French fry.”

Matt growled.

“One thing. The ‘bended knee’ bit?”

“Yeah?” Matt asked hopefully as Press pulled into the driveway to his dad’s house.

“Definitely use it. No matter what women say, they’re suckers for the big, romantic gesture. Just hold on to something while you do it. Knowing you, you’ll fall flat on your face otherwise, and we need you in one piece if you’re going to save the world.”