Merriment in the Museum - Book One in the Rock My Socks Off Trilogy by Jeremy Edwards Page A
Authors: Jeremy Edwards
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impressive than her pout. They’d added a creative team who could find the glamorous, humorous, or fascinating side of any topic, and the result was a prime-time cash bonanza built out of ratings-risky subjects like insect reproduction and alloy composition.
‘You’ll be great!’ Jacob said enthusiastically.
‘Yes, we will,’ Normandie concurred.
‘We?’
‘They want Professor Jacobs, too.’
‘Why?’
‘I guess they think you’re “good television”.’
‘ Good television? Good grief. I think I need a cup of coffee.’
‘You’re drinking a cup of coffee, sweet cheeks.’
He shrugged. ‘OK, then. Professor Jacobs I am. Why not.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
‘What about you? You don’t mind going on national television and continuing to lie about outer space?’
‘In for a penny, in for a buck,’ she said philosophically.
‘Do you mean that?’ Jacob asked.
‘I think so. It sounded good, anyway.’
‘Because I have an idea, if you’re interested. It’s not exactly honest, though.’
‘Then it will fit right in.’
‘Suppose we brought an image. You know, a slide of your adorable rocking horse galaxy.’
‘Wouldn’t I love to! But where does one get slides of non-existent galaxies?’
‘One asks one’s photographer friend to make them.’
‘That’s asking a lot of Susan, isn’t it?’
‘We’d have to pay her, I assume – unless she’s as turned on by the prospect of Photoshopping whimsical galaxies as she is by the prospect of photographing our lovemaking.’
‘You never know. But, OK, I’ll keep my chequebook handy.’ She thought a moment. ‘This means we’ll also have to trust her with the secret.’
‘We’re talking about a woman who’s just confided her masturbation habits to me within earshot of an entire café’s worth of people. If you can’t trust someone like that, whom can you trust?’
‘Your grammar is better than your logic, Jacob Hastings,’ said Normandie lovingly. ‘But I believe in your instincts.’
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‘You’ll be great!’ Jacob said enthusiastically.
‘Yes, we will,’ Normandie concurred.
‘We?’
‘They want Professor Jacobs, too.’
‘Why?’
‘I guess they think you’re “good television”.’
‘ Good television? Good grief. I think I need a cup of coffee.’
‘You’re drinking a cup of coffee, sweet cheeks.’
He shrugged. ‘OK, then. Professor Jacobs I am. Why not.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
‘What about you? You don’t mind going on national television and continuing to lie about outer space?’
‘In for a penny, in for a buck,’ she said philosophically.
‘Do you mean that?’ Jacob asked.
‘I think so. It sounded good, anyway.’
‘Because I have an idea, if you’re interested. It’s not exactly honest, though.’
‘Then it will fit right in.’
‘Suppose we brought an image. You know, a slide of your adorable rocking horse galaxy.’
‘Wouldn’t I love to! But where does one get slides of non-existent galaxies?’
‘One asks one’s photographer friend to make them.’
‘That’s asking a lot of Susan, isn’t it?’
‘We’d have to pay her, I assume – unless she’s as turned on by the prospect of Photoshopping whimsical galaxies as she is by the prospect of photographing our lovemaking.’
‘You never know. But, OK, I’ll keep my chequebook handy.’ She thought a moment. ‘This means we’ll also have to trust her with the secret.’
‘We’re talking about a woman who’s just confided her masturbation habits to me within earshot of an entire café’s worth of people. If you can’t trust someone like that, whom can you trust?’
‘Your grammar is better than your logic, Jacob Hastings,’ said Normandie lovingly. ‘But I believe in your instincts.’
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