Nice Day For A White Wedding

“I think I smell bullshit,” Cindy says.

Her words doubt me, but her expression doesn’t. She wants me to laugh, to tell her she’s right, it was all a big wind up. But she doesn’t really believe I’m going to. She knows.

“Then I think you might have some issues with your nose,” I say.

She frowns at me. “So assuming you’re telling the truth, then what was this all about tonight? Some sort of test to see if I was doing my job properly?”

“Not a test as such,” I say. “I just wanted to make sure you are who I think you are. Someone responsible who takes their job seriously. And you didn’t disappoint. Although you did take slightly longer than I thought you would to arrive at the table.”

Like I knew she would, she bristles at the less than stellar evaluation I’ve made on her job performance.

I laugh. “But once you did arrive, you handled the … issue like a real pro.”

She frowns again. “Nothing you’ve said proves you’ve bought this casino.”

“Oh, Cindy, can we not get past this denial dance and get to the important details? We both know I’m telling the truth. It might interest you I looked up your HR file this morning. You started at twenty-one as an admin assistant and worked your way up. You were promoted to manager status four years ago. And if my math is correct, you are twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine. How am I doing so far?”

She pulls her drink towards her mouth and starts to drink it, really fast, but I don’t comment on that. It’s one more clue that she’s shaken to the core. She wouldn’t be sitting drinking with a customer she thought was cheating the casino under normal circumstances.

“Ok, so you know a few facts about me.” Cindy shrugs. “They’re hardly trade secrets. Maybe you’ve seen me here and asked around about me.”

I laugh at her insinuation.

“What’s so funny?” she demands.

“Your assumption that I have not only noticed you around, but also that I liked what I saw enough to go on an underhand fact-finding mission about you. You think very highly of yourself, Cindy.”

She blushes and looks down at her glass. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she mumbles. Then she picks her glass up, drains it, and lifts her forefinger towards the bartender to indicate she wants another.

I take pity on her. I need her more than she needs me. If I push her too hard she could simply find a job elsewhere. “I know you didn’t. It was just a last-ditch attempt for you to cling to the idea that I’m lying.”

Her head swings back toward me. “You can’t seriously expect to walk in here off the street, tell me you own the place, and have me just take your word for it. I’m the manager here. Why wasn’t I told?”

My track record will show that is exactly what I do expect. As a matter of fact, I’ve never had to do any of the handholding I’m doing right now. I shrug casually.

“So what will convince you? Let me see,” I say, pretending I’m thinking about it.

I know exactly how this will play out now. Play time is over and it’s time to get down to business. I’m done toying with Cindy now. Either she says yes, or I start to look for my next target. I pull my phone out and scroll through my contacts. Once Lord Alstree’s name is highlighted I hold the phone out to her.

“Would you like to call the previous owner and ask him about it?” I ask.

She doesn’t take the phone, but she looks at the screen, and her face changes when she sees the name. Lord Alstree’s a notably private man who doesn’t give his contact information out to just anyone, and that should have told her something.

“How do you have Lord Alstree’s phone number?”

I laugh softly. “Because I like to be able to contact a person when I’m doing business with them. It’s kind of essential, don’t you think? Now, do you want to call him or not?”

“No,” she says quietly.

But she still looks skeptical. The truth hits me and I shake my head. “You don’t want to call him because you’ve never spoken to him, have you? You would have no idea whether it was really him or not,” I say.

She shrugs, but it confirms what I already knew.

“Maybe this will convince you.” I reach into my inside pocket and pull out an envelope. “Inside the envelope are the deeds to the business that state I am the owner. Do you want to read them?”

She shakes her head slowly.

I eye her with disbelief. “You’re telling me even if you see the legal documents, you still won’t believe me?”

She smiles slightly and shakes her head.

“No. I’m saying I don’t need to see the documents. I believe you.”