The Antiquities Hunter by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

Author:Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2018-09-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Her Own Woman

Tink.” The word popped out of Cruz’s mouth as we sat before the fire in our own suite.

I had changed into a multihued jogging suit; Cruz had donned a Giants’ baseball jersey over his dress slacks. We had the doors to the balcony open to let in the fresh sea air, but though it rose into the high nineties during the day in coastal Yucatán, it could get quite cool at night. A nice combination, actually.

“You exploring a career in radio sound effects?” I asked. “I’d advise you to keep your day job, whatever that is.”

“Tink,” he repeated. “That’s what Dave Delgado called you at the hospital. Pet name?”

“Only for a pet you hated.”

“Embarrassing?”

“Annoying.”

“But you let friends call you that.”

“Certain friends. Friends who were around in the day. Rosie was there when I . . . acquired the damned thing. She’s entitled—and Dave by extension, I guess.”

“But you’re not going to tell me how you acquired it?”

I looked over at him where he lounged, half in and half out of a comfy leather chair, his feet on the hearth. The look in his eyes told me that if I didn’t tell him at this juncture, he’d keep after me until I did.

“Okay, this is the story: When I was a sophomore in high school, I was part of a group of kids who were . . . misfits, I guess you’d say. My friend Lee and I were too short; Rosie was too chubby, and July was too tall and too buff.”

“July?”

“July Petersen. Yes, it’s a family pandemic. She has a brother named ‘March’ and a sister named ‘October.’”

“I’m going to guess—the months in which they were born?”

I nodded. “It started back a generation. Their mom’s name is ‘Jan’—short for ‘January’—and I think they have an uncle named ‘Avril.’”

“I am sincerely afraid to ask about their father.”

“Oh, their father is named, simply and sensibly, ‘John,’” I told him. “At any rate, we were misfits who lacked the foresight to realize that hanging out together compounded our ‘misfitism.’ So we made a natural and easy target for those packs of guys who just love to harass the black sheep of the fold. One of the guys that used to poke fun at us was a studious sort. When he found out my full name was Gina Suzu Miyoko, he—for reasons that escape me entirely—got out a Japanese dictionary and found out that it meant ‘Silver Bell Temple.’ Hence, ‘Tinkerbell.’ Hence, ‘Tink.’”

“Ah . . . it all becomes clear. And this studious fellow . . .”

“Perry. Perry Dixon.”

“You honestly don’t know why he went to the trouble to look up your name?”

I shook my head, then caught the expression on his face. “Oh, really. You think he had a crush on me.”

He shrugged. “Seems obvious enough.”

“That just . . .” That just made all sorts of sense in view of more recent overtures Perry had made the last time I visited Grass Valley, my erstwhile hometown. I laughed. “That’s just too weird.

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