Fudging the Books Read Online Free PDF Page A

You’d be surprised who gets tattoos these days. People from all walks of life. Schoolteachers, lawyers, nurses.”
    Though tattooing was in vogue, I had chosen not to add artwork to my body.
    Dash spread the neckline of his shirt and revealed that there was more to the
love
tattoo. The word circled a globe. He smirked. “This one doesn’t need an explanation, does it? But enough about me. Have you met Ingrid Lake?” Heaimed a forefinger at the lean woman sitting beside him and then resumed taking photographs.
    Ingrid was pretty in a put-together way. Chin-length, smooth blonde hair cupped her face. “Hello,” she whispered. At least I think that’s what she said. Her lips moved; her teeth didn’t budge. Perhaps she had been a ventriloquist at one time in her life, I mused, but then revised the idea. Ventriloquists didn’t move their lips. Maybe her teeth were wired together for dental purposes.
    “C’mon, me lass.” Dash nudged her, his pirate-like brogue thick and leaning toward a British accent. “Speak up.”
    Ingrid blushed through her pale makeup. “Don’t speak pirate-ese to me, Dash.” Even with prodding, her teeth didn’t move. “It’s infantile.”
    “Don’t yerself,” Dash shot back. “I’m here to have fun. And, if I recall, you asked to come along. Look lively.”
    Ingrid toyed with the top button of her frilly blouse.
    “He’s right, Ingrid,” Alison said. “Lighten up. No lemons, only lemonade.” She turned to Bailey and me. “Ingrid is the copyeditor at Foodie Publishing. Very detail oriented.” Alison glanced over her shoulder, making sure she caught Ingrid’s attention. “Perhaps too much so.”
    “I am not,” Ingrid whispered.
    “No T’s uncrossed, no I’s undotted,” Alison said. “And heaven forbid if I or any of my authors use the words
I
or
me
improperly in a sentence.”
    “The way we speak exhibits the level of our education,” Ingrid said.
    “To quote your mother,” Alison teased.
    Ingrid sat straighter. “She was a genius.”
    “As are you.”
    Coco planted a hand on one hip. “Aha. So, Ingrid, you’re the one who’s been changing all my cooking directions. I like them to be written in what I call easy prose. Chatty. I don’t want them spruced into perfect English.”
    Ingrid shook her head. “No, that’s not me. I would never change your voice. However, Alison—”
    Alison cleared her throat.
    “I mean Miss Foodie—”
    “No, Ingrid!” Alison cut her off. “I didn’t mean for you to correct yourself. Just don’t speak.”
    Coco’s face clouded over. She rapped Alison’s shoulder. “What is she trying to tell me?”
    “Nothing.”
    “You’re not messing with my voice, are you?”
    Alison didn’t respond.
    “Are you?” Coco picked up a glass of water from the table.
    Alison eyed it and smirked. “Don’t tell me you intend to throw that at me.”
    “Promise me you’re not changing anything I write”—Coco’s mouth curled in a snarl—“or else.”
    “Or else what? You’ll douse me?”
    “It’s in my contract that you can’t edit without my approval.”
    “Can’t?
Can’t
?”
    “It’s proprietary.”
    “I’m your publisher. I can do anything I want. Read your contract.”
    “Why you—”
    Tito raised his camera. I whipped my arm up to block his shot.

Chapter 3

    “S TOP!” BAILEY SHOUTED.
    Everyone in the café but Tito froze in place. He clicked his camera in succession. Multiple flashes went off.
    “No, Tito, stop!” I said, as visions of front-page photos reeled in my mind.
The Nook Café: A perfect spot for a fight.
Or
Want to make a splash? Visit the Nook
. Argh! Not all publicity was good publicity.
    “Oh, relax,” Coco cried. “We’re not really going at it.” She set the water aside, and she and Alison erupted into giggles. “Gotcha.” She addressed the crowd. “Every one of you, close your mouths. My, oh, my, the looks on your faces. You especially, Ingrid.” She bumped knuckles with Alison.