A Billionaire for Christmas - Page 198
“Buffet?” Emma and I both say.
“It’s like a… pick three. Except you don’t get to pick ’em. We do. And we rustle you around town and by the end of the day you’ve had yourself three incredible, one-of-a-kind Fingers’ Fantasy Weddings.”
Emma shoots him with her finger. “That keep you on your toes!”
“You betcha!” He laughs, clearly enamored with my girl.
Emma looks at me. “What do you think?”
I shrug. “It’s your day, babe. I go where you go.”
“OK,” she says, almost breathless. “We’re in. Fingers’ Fantasy Wedding Pick Three Buffet it is.”
“All right then,” Clarence says. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna give me your credit card, I’m gonna run it on my little PayPal app here on my phone for a grand total of five thousand dollars, and then I’m gonna walk on over to that pay phone right there and make some arrangements with Fingers while I finish up my burrito. You good people will sit tight over here and eat up.” He points to us again. “You’re gonna need that energy. I’m about to rustle up the best day of your life, so you better grab seconds. And then we’ll get ’er done!”
“Let’s get ’er done!” Emma squeals. “Give him the credit card, Jesse!”
I hand it to him and Clarence tips his hat to Emma while he takes it. Then he slides out of the booth and walks across the restaurant where the pay phone must be.
“Wow,” I say. “This place is really something.”
“Right?” Emma laughs. “I knew this was a good idea last night, but in the bright light of day, it’s even better. We’re about to have an amazing day, I can just tell.”
And it does feel like a pretty special day. I mean… how often can you possibly expect to go to sleep in Key West, wake up in Vegas, meet with Cowboy Clarence, and buy Fingers’ Fantasy Wedding Pick Three Buffet in less than twelve hours?
Once.
This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience all the way around.
But twenty minutes later, when I get up to use the restroom and ask where the pay phone is, the friendly waitress on skates tells me there is no pay phone.
And no Cowboy Clarence, either.
He’s gone.
And he took my credit card.Chapter Ten“That’s impossible,” I tell Jesse as I follow him outside to look for the cowboy. “He was too nice to rob us.”
“Emma,” Jesse says, spinning around to face me in the parking lot. “This is Vegas. We had a meeting with a guy called Fingers to set up our crazy wedding and some dude called Clarence waltzed in and we just said, ‘Oh, OK. He must be the fuckin’ Thumb. It’s all good. Yes, we’d like the Pick Three Wedding Buffet Package and why, sure, you can have my credit card.’ What did we think was gonna happen here?”
“I know. I get it. We’re kinda dumb. But I still have this really good feeling about him. It’s probably a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding? He said, word for word, ‘You good people will sit tight over here and eat up while I rob you!’”
“That’s not what he said.”
“He might as well have! And look!” Jesse pans his arms wide as he spins in the middle of the parking lot. “He’s gone!”
“Well… that’s stupid. What a jerk. But I still can’t believe that Miles would set us up with some weird Vegas wedding swindlers.”
“He was in the Mob, Emma!”
“Oh, stop it! He was not in the Mob, Jesse. He grew up in Philly and went to an elite private school. The man has a PhD in manners, for fuck’s sake. And he invented the Barbie and Ken mini-cinnamon roll. He’s not in the damn Mob!”
Jesse points to himself. “I went to an elite private school and I’m in the fuckin’ Mob!”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Yeah, but—”
“Yeah, but nothing. Which one of those stories he told seems more likely now, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not in the Mob. You’re in the—”
“Something worse!” he says. “Worse than the Mob. So much worse we’re not even sure what it is! For all we know, we’re being set up by my Mob!”
“Now you’re really starting to lose it. Let’s just go back inside, eat the rest of our bacon, and wait it out. I’m sure he’ll be back.”
Jesse sucks in a deep breath, holds it for like five whole seconds, and then lets it out in a rush. “Fine.” He throws up his hands. “Fine. What other choice do we have? After I pay for the fuckin’ breakfast buffet with my butler allowance we’ll have just enough to Uber back to the airport and wait for our charter.”
“What? No! We came here to get married. We’re getting married. We don’t need cash. We have credit cards. We’re billionaires, for fuck’s sake. We don’t have to go back to the airport—”
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