Posts Tagged ‘Dinu’
Tassa laughed and put her hands around his waist. They roared out of town, headed for Tassa’s older sister’s place, a farm in the foothills, about forty kilometers away. There was hardly any talking, just Tassa saying “turn here,” or “second right,” the route going from wide two-lane pavement with lots of traffic to narrow two-lane pavement with less, to gravel and dirt with hardly anyone on it except for an occasional tractor, horse-drawn carts, and barking dogs who chased after them. At first, Tassa’s hands felt awkward to him, but she changed the position a bit, maybe simply relaxing, and after that things felt right, like the three of them – Dinu, Tassa, 660Z – were one. She hummed to herself.
“What’s that song?” Dinu said, raising his voice.
“It’s American,” Tassa said, practically in his ear. “Eight Miles High.”
(Motorcycles play a role in Mrs. Plansky’s Revenge, now available for preorder. Maybe another 660Z scene tomorrow, featuring Mrs. P herself?)
July 25 is pub date for Mrs. Plansky’s Revenge, although it can be preordered now. Go ahead! I’ll wait.
Okay? All done? Thank you! I’ll be on tour for Mrs. P this summer and one of the things I’ll talk about is how on day one of writing it I made a major change in the plan, namely to show not just Mrs. P’s side of the story but also what was happening on the other side, in a far away country. Here’s a peek:
Romeo was a chubby kid with acne and wild hair and certainly not good looking in any way Dinu could see, and also he came from a poor family rumored to be part Jewish but some girls – and not just a few – were interested in him. He was already making lots of money – he wore a gold chain around his neck and had two real leather jackets, one black and one red – but it wasn’t just that. Romeo was a genius – the whole invisible structure behind computers, the internet, all that, was transparent to him, out in the open.
“Teach me, Romeo.” Dinu had heard more than one girl say that, even an older girl from the university. Girls liked geniuses. It made sense, but of course Dinu had known for a long time that he himself would have to find another way.
The slight one turned to her. “Is it sunny every day?”
“Not every day, but lots.”
The wind rose a little more, not dissipating the fog at all but blowing scraps of newspaper and styrofoam toward the edge of the lookout. The slight one seemed to be thinking. The pimply one downed the rest of his soda and tossed the empty can over his shoulder into the void.
“Have you been to the spring break?” the slight one said.
“Once,” said Mrs. Plansky, “but a long time ago.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“No, I did, but spring break is for young people.”
“Chay?” said the pimply one again, which she guessed was spelled ce and probably meant what.
Again the slight one spoke to him in Romanian. A back and forth ensued, the pimply one growing more animated at what Mrs. Plansky assumed was a description of the goings-on at spring break. He turned to her and smiled, tapping his chest.
“Romeo,” he said.
Uh-oh. No, it couldn’t be. Some sort of wildly mistaken come-on based on a cartoonish image of female America, specifically the Florida spring break variety, combined with an adolescent inability to see what was in front of his face, namely a seventy-one year old woman, going on seventy-two? Just then, when she was about to try “You’re not lookin’ at Juliet, buddy boy,” or something like that, he pointed to the slight one and said, “Dinu.”
Ah. “Those are your names, Romeo and Dinu?”
[Coming in July. Publishers love pre-orders.]
“Hello, it’s me, your grandson, insert name here,” Dinu said.
“Much better,” said Professor Bogdan. “You might even say Yo, it’s me.”
“On my last trip I heard a lot of yo. Even my brother says it.”
“Your brother in New Hampshire?”
“No P sound. And sher, not shire. But yes, my brother.”
“The brother who is owning a business?”
“Who owns a business. Bogdan Plumbing and Heating.”
Professor Bogdan opened a drawer, took out a T-shirt and tossed it to Dinu.
Dinu shook it out, held it up, took a look. On the front was a cartoon-type picture of a skier with tiny icicles in his bushy black mustache, brandishing a toilet plunger over his head. On the back it said: “Bogdan Plumbing and Heating, Number 1 in the Granite State.”
Dinu made a motion to hand it back.
“Keep it,” said Professor Bogdan.
“You’re welcome. New Hampshire is the Granite State. All the states have nicknames.”
“Like pet names. For example, what does your mother call you?”
Professor Bogdan blinked a couple of times. Like the skier, he had a bushy mustache, except his was mostly white. “Texas is the Lone Star State, Florida is the Sunshine State, Georgia is the Peach State.”
“They have a Georgia of their own. They have everything, Dinu, although – “ He leaned across the desk and pointed at Dinu with his nicotine-stained finger. “Although most of them don’t realize it and complain all the time just like us.”
[Coming July 25, pre-orderable]
