Chapter 26

He read the card. “I love you. T.”

“Ooh, somebody’s got a girlfriend, somebody’s got a girlfriend,” Derrick sang as he grabbed the card from Quinn’s hand.

Somebody’s acting juvenile, somebody’s acting juvenile, Quinn thought.

“T. Let’s see—Toni, Terri, Tonya, ooh, Tiffany. Could it be supermodel Tiffany Turkova?”

“Ooh, could it be that someone should mind their own business,” Jeremiah said.

Turning to Quinn, he added, “I’m happy for you, man. And you don’t have to share the lady with no one.”

At his spare Manhattan digs—where canoe paddles, a gamelan and other Indonesian artifacts stood out against the ascetic backdrop—Quinn thought of his “lady” as Mal, blown in like a late-season nor’easter, buffeted him.

“Who’s T?” Mal said, contemptuously flicking aside the card from Tam’s bouquet, which graced a night table.

“Tante Josie back in Misalliance, Missouri,” Quinn lied readily. “Tante is French for aunt. Our family is part French.”