pizza from Papa Mur-ray—”
He swerved onto an exit ramp.
“Plantagenet!” she screamed. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Pizza,” he said in a normal tone. “We’re getting pizza. Aren’t you ravenous?”
“I guess so.” She was, actually, although she hadn’t thought about it until now. “But Plantagenet, are you all right?”
“No. I’m not all right. I am all wrong,” he said with bizarre cheer. “I have been wrong for some time. Completely wrong. But I am about to change. Change everything. And the first thing, the very first thing I am going to do is—get into the right lane!”
He had been weaving insanely through city traffic and suddenly cut in front of a large van, skidding as he made a turn, nearly plowing into a bank of brown slush.
“There it is! There it is! He’s still here!” He miraculously regained control of the car. “What I am going to do, Camel, my darling, is give you the most mouth-watering, most delectable, most all-time great pizza you have had in your short life. Here we are.”
He pulled in front of a shadowy building next to a Greyhound bus station, where dirty old men huddled, sharing a bottle wrapped in brown paper. Next door was a seedy-looking eatery, with red-checked curtains hanging in the grimy window. Over the door a neon sign declared it “Papa’s”. Underneath, not centered, were the words “Apizza Pie.” Next to the “Papa’s,” on painted wood, barely discernible in the fading light, was a sign that said “Murray Edelman’s Pizza and Deli.”
“Very funny, Plant,” she said. “Now let’s get out of here before we get mugged.”
“They wouldn’t dare mug me, Camel, darling. I’m from the neighborhood. I used to work here—at Papa Murray’s—every day after school. For two whole years.”
“You did not! You went to Exeter, remember?”
“I remember I told you that. But I lied. I lie a lot. But not about pizza. Come on.” Camilla watched in horror as Plantagenet pushed the button that lifted the gullwing doors of the DeLorean and the old tramps stared.
“Plant, I am not getting out of this car.” The joke had gone far enough.
“Please, darling. This is important to me. I have something I want to say to you. I’d like to say it at Papa Murray’s. Please?”
She shivered but didn’t budge. Plant finally lowered the doors.
With a fierceness she’d never seen in him, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His wild eyes reflected the red glow from the store’s neon sign. She tried to look away, but he held her with his feral red stare.
Then he kissed her, not gently like before, but with a passion that seemed to possess him like a demonic force. She tried to catch her breath as he kissed her eyes, her mouth, her neck, and then her mouth again, probing, invading.
She gasped for breath and tried to pull away. Plantagenet couldn’t be doing this. Not now. Not after Lester Stokes. And Aldo. And nasty Jonathan Kahn.
“Camilla, I love you,” he murmured hoarsely.
She pushed him away. “Well, I don’t love you. Not when you’re stupid like this. I want to get back on the Parkway. Now. Are you coming with me or not?”
He stared at her, his eyes dark and cold now.
“Maybe I should just take a bus back to New York.”
He opened the doors again and pulled the keys from the ignition.
“Maybe you should.” She took the keys.
He gave her one last, pained look and got out of the car.
She watched him run through the snow and disappear behind the red-checked curtains before she moved to the driver’s seat, lowered the doors and drove the DeLorean into the storm and the gathering dark.
Chapter 4—The House Of Nevermore
Five months later, as Camilla fought traffic on Route 95 on her way back to Darien, she still didn’t understand what had been going on with Plantagenet that night in New Jersey, but she hoped he was over it. Summer vacation would be awful without him. There was
He swerved onto an exit ramp.
“Plantagenet!” she screamed. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Pizza,” he said in a normal tone. “We’re getting pizza. Aren’t you ravenous?”
“I guess so.” She was, actually, although she hadn’t thought about it until now. “But Plantagenet, are you all right?”
“No. I’m not all right. I am all wrong,” he said with bizarre cheer. “I have been wrong for some time. Completely wrong. But I am about to change. Change everything. And the first thing, the very first thing I am going to do is—get into the right lane!”
He had been weaving insanely through city traffic and suddenly cut in front of a large van, skidding as he made a turn, nearly plowing into a bank of brown slush.
“There it is! There it is! He’s still here!” He miraculously regained control of the car. “What I am going to do, Camel, my darling, is give you the most mouth-watering, most delectable, most all-time great pizza you have had in your short life. Here we are.”
He pulled in front of a shadowy building next to a Greyhound bus station, where dirty old men huddled, sharing a bottle wrapped in brown paper. Next door was a seedy-looking eatery, with red-checked curtains hanging in the grimy window. Over the door a neon sign declared it “Papa’s”. Underneath, not centered, were the words “Apizza Pie.” Next to the “Papa’s,” on painted wood, barely discernible in the fading light, was a sign that said “Murray Edelman’s Pizza and Deli.”
“Very funny, Plant,” she said. “Now let’s get out of here before we get mugged.”
“They wouldn’t dare mug me, Camel, darling. I’m from the neighborhood. I used to work here—at Papa Murray’s—every day after school. For two whole years.”
“You did not! You went to Exeter, remember?”
“I remember I told you that. But I lied. I lie a lot. But not about pizza. Come on.” Camilla watched in horror as Plantagenet pushed the button that lifted the gullwing doors of the DeLorean and the old tramps stared.
“Plant, I am not getting out of this car.” The joke had gone far enough.
“Please, darling. This is important to me. I have something I want to say to you. I’d like to say it at Papa Murray’s. Please?”
She shivered but didn’t budge. Plant finally lowered the doors.
With a fierceness she’d never seen in him, he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His wild eyes reflected the red glow from the store’s neon sign. She tried to look away, but he held her with his feral red stare.
Then he kissed her, not gently like before, but with a passion that seemed to possess him like a demonic force. She tried to catch her breath as he kissed her eyes, her mouth, her neck, and then her mouth again, probing, invading.
She gasped for breath and tried to pull away. Plantagenet couldn’t be doing this. Not now. Not after Lester Stokes. And Aldo. And nasty Jonathan Kahn.
“Camilla, I love you,” he murmured hoarsely.
She pushed him away. “Well, I don’t love you. Not when you’re stupid like this. I want to get back on the Parkway. Now. Are you coming with me or not?”
He stared at her, his eyes dark and cold now.
“Maybe I should just take a bus back to New York.”
He opened the doors again and pulled the keys from the ignition.
“Maybe you should.” She took the keys.
He gave her one last, pained look and got out of the car.
She watched him run through the snow and disappear behind the red-checked curtains before she moved to the driver’s seat, lowered the doors and drove the DeLorean into the storm and the gathering dark.
Chapter 4—The House Of Nevermore
Five months later, as Camilla fought traffic on Route 95 on her way back to Darien, she still didn’t understand what had been going on with Plantagenet that night in New Jersey, but she hoped he was over it. Summer vacation would be awful without him. There was
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