Let’s Play Make-Believe, Page 4

  “A few things.” I wasn’t sure if I was playing coy or worried about trusting Marty completely. It was easier to make him work for the answers so I could decide what I might say.

  Marty said, “A few interesting legal leads? Can you give me a for-instance.”

  I decided to jump in with both feet. “Did you have a will when you were going through your divorce?”

  Marty said, “I had nothing to leave anyone. Teal was getting it all anyway.”

  “Did you know that if you die without a will, it’s called dying intestate and generally the spouse is in line to get everything?”

  That made Marty stop in his tracks. He even glanced around to make sure no one was near us on the beach, but by now we were blocks from the public beach and there wasn’t a soul in sight. He looked right at me and said, “That can’t be right. Even in a divorce.”

  I told him what I had read. “As long as the divorce isn’t final, and there is no will, all of the precedents say the spouse is entitled to the estate.”

  “Aren’t wills filed in court?”

  “No. They can be held by the attorney, but usually they’re just kept right at the home of the deceased. It’s convenient and doesn’t cost anything. And most people really don’t think they’re gonna die anytime soon. It’s just one of those details that floats by in life.”

  Marty started walking again and just said, “Really? Good to know. Next time I’m wealthy, I’ll make sure to give a will to my attorney just in case. One less thing to worry about.” He gave me that adorable smile that made all my troubles melt away. That was a rare quality in a man and something that couldn’t be faked. I started to realize just how lucky I’d been to find Marty at this time in my life.

  Chapter 15

  It took almost a week for me to get back to normal, but Friday afternoon Marty surprised me by showing up at the Brazilian Court, looking like a true Palm Beacher in his linen shirt with a cashmere sweater draped over his shoulders, khakis, and loafers with no socks. His fake Rolex would pass all but the closest of inspections.

  As I assessed him spinning in my doorway and looking a little like a model, all he said to me was “Got any plans?”

  I let the smile spread across my face as I said, “None at all.”

  I almost thought he’d take me for another walk along the beach, but he told me to dress up and not expect to be back at the hotel for quite a while. I had no idea what that meant.

  We hopped into his BMW and drove across the bridge into the center of downtown West Palm. Traffic was much heavier than it was on the island, and I was curious where we were headed.

  He turned onto some side roads, obviously to throw me off and have some fun. The man took his games seriously, and I loved that. Then we found ourselves westbound on Okeechobee once again and crossing over I-95.

  Finally I had to ask, “Where are we going?”

  His goofy smile was infectious as he said, “You’ll see. We’re just going to play a game. Are you up for that?”

  I could’ve said That depends, but I really was in the mood for something different. I needed to get my head out of my troubles, at least for a little while.

  So I grabbed his free hand, which was resting on the gearshift. “Yes.”

  When Marty pulled in to the Bentley dealer off Okeechobee, I became even more curious. This was a fun game, and I had no idea where it was headed. I knew there had to be some connection to seeing Brennan in his own Bentley the other day, but I was happy to watch the whole thing unfold.

  I was in a dress that was more appropriate for an evening event but could pass for business attire at some of the higher-end jewelry stores or any of the shops on Worth Avenue. The Christian Louboutin pumps on my feet weren’t the easiest things to walk in, but they made my calves pop, so I had thrown a pair of comfortable shoes into the bag Marty had told me to pack.

  I resisted the urge to ask questions and spoil the spontaneity as we walked, hand in hand, through the front door of the dealership and stood next to a dark red Mulsanne. Marty looked through the window of the car and down the hood like he was checking for imperfections. That drew a salesman like chum draws sharks.

  We endured the introductions and a few minutes of small talk until the tall salesman, about forty-five, who could’ve been selling Mazdas as well as Bentleys, said, “So what, exactly, brings you out here today?”

  Marty was very casual as he said, “My wife and I are in the market for a new car, and I thought it was time to seriously consider a Bentley. Brennan Moore recommended you guys.”

  That line shocked me, but it had the desired effect on the salesman.

  “I sold Brennan his Mulsanne, just like the one sitting right here.” He patted the hood of the car like it was a racehorse. “Brennan is a great guy, and I’m so happy he recommended us.”

  The salesman looked at me for some kind of response, but all I could do was mumble, “Yeah, yeah, he’s the best.”

  Marty said, “We see him over on the island quite a bit, and I like the look of his new car. But we usually don’t go for long drives.”

  The whole time, I marveled at Marty’s inventive deviousness. I still had no idea what this game was.

  Marty said to the salesman, “Although we’ve considered a Flying Spur, we’re seriously looking at a Mercedes across the street at Mercedes-Benz of Palm Beach. I just wanted to show her a couple of Bentleys.” Then he turned toward the door and took a few steps.

  It was genius. I had never seen anything like it. Immediately the salesman lunged for us, saying, “Wait, wait, you don’t want a German car on the island. Bentley is the only way to go.”

  Marty was masterful. The salesman essentially begged us to take a Flying Spur for a test drive.

  Marty remained aloof and said, “I’m not sure driving a few blocks in the car is gonna give me the confidence I need to buy it.”

  The salesman said, “No problem. All I need is a little information, just your cell phone and maybe your driver’s license, and you can take it home overnight and really get a feel for it. We’ll even come by and pick it up if you don’t like it, or we can complete the paperwork right at your house.”

  Even though the salesman was a little aggressive, I felt sorry for him. He was standing in front of us like a puppy waiting for a treat.

  Marty hesitated and then gave him his cell number.

  When the salesman said, “We just need a little bit more information,” Marty countered with “I don’t have time for paperwork.”

  Then he looked at me and said, “Let’s go.” He turned like an impatient Palm Beacher would, and the salesman jumped up with the keys, telling us to just give them a call if we needed anything.

  A few minutes later, after we had retrieved a few things from Marty’s BMW, we pulled out of the parking lot, but instead of turning east toward Palm Beach, Marty turned west on Okeechobee.

  I said, “Where are we going now?”

  A satisfied smile popped onto his face as he said, “You’ll find out.”

  I loved this game. We held hands and chatted as he pulled onto the turnpike headed north. I didn’t ask any questions. I just enjoyed the ride as we took the turnpike farther north until Marty pulled off onto Osceola Parkway and then off again at an exit just south of Orlando. I had to fight the urge to ask questions, but when he pulled into the Four Seasons right outside Disney World, I couldn’t help but show my surprise. Who doesn’t want to visit Disney World? I had just told him how Brennan had promised but had never taken me. I threw my arms around Marty’s neck and planted a big kiss on his lips.

  As we got out of the car I had to tell him, “This game of make-believe is fantastic.”

  Chapter 16

  Disney World was all I had dreamed it would be. At least the attractions were, anyway. Somehow, when I was a kid, I’d never calculated how many people were crammed into the park every day. Especially on a beautiful Saturday like this. We managed to make it onto most of the rides, though the longest wait
s were at Space Mountain and Pirates of the Caribbean. I might have enjoyed a trip to the Magic Kingdom more when I was eleven, but being here today with Marty was really special too. Maybe the most important thing was that I realized how carefully Marty had listened to me and how badly he wanted to see me happy. This guy would do anything for me, and no one had ever made me feel like that before.

  Walking hand in hand with Marty made me feel like no matter what choices I had made, I had the right man in my life now. He was just what I needed.

  But after lunch my mood started to change. It began with the salesman from the Bentley dealer calling Marty and asking how he liked the car. Marty handled it perfectly, telling the salesman we were still undecided but we’d bring the car back later this afternoon.

  As Marty stuffed the phone back into his front pocket, he smiled at me and said, “I just won’t answer the phone again until we’re about to drop the car off.”

  The call had brought me back to reality, and my problems were no longer a world away. I started thinking about the court hearing and that pompous ass Brennan. While we were floating in our boat through It’s a Small World, I noticed our conversation had turned darker as well.

  Out of nowhere Marty said, “Disney makes a fortune separating people from the real world and the ugliness around them.”

  “Whoa, what brought that on?” The little girl in front of us had been peeking behind the seat since the ride had started. She might not have understood what he was saying, but she picked up on Marty’s attitude and quickly twisted around to sit low in her seat, out of sight.

  Our conversation drifted back to normal, Magic Kingdom–related topics as we shuffled our way through the Haunted Mansion and Frontierland. Once we landed in comfortable seats and under air-conditioning at the PhilharMagic 3-D, with no one sitting close to us, I acted on the urge to kiss him.

  Marty said, “I’m glad you’re having a good time. I’m sorry you missed out on Disney for so long, but I’m glad your ex-husband didn’t hurt your sense of joy.”

  “First of all, he’s not my ex-husband yet. And he didn’t hurt my sense of joy, but he did come close to ruining it. He was never the man I thought he was. It turns out you are the man I thought he was.”

  We kissed again, deeply and passionately. I felt Marty’s hand around the back of my neck, and I wanted to hold him tight. As the show began and objects came flying at us in 3-D, we continued making out, grabbing at the visual effects before us. I’d never thought I’d enjoy the PhilharMagic 3-D so much.

  Somehow I knew Marty was a guy I could depend on. He would protect me, and since he had taken me to Disney World, I knew he just wanted to make me happy. Who could ask for anything more?

  Chapter 17

  I thought the salesman was going to kiss Marty when we dropped off the Bentley. He darted out of the showroom and met us in the parking lot.

  The salesman blurted out, “I thought you’d—”

  Marty was back in character as the annoyed rich guy and said in a sharp tone, “What? You thought we’d what?”

  The salesman stammered and said, “F-forgotten us. You just surprised me by keeping the car a little extra. You must have really loved it.” He was standing in front of us, almost hopping in place with excitement, like a kid about to open a Christmas present. “What do you think? Will you pull the trigger on it? I can have everything ready for you to sign in just a few minutes.”

  He was following along in the parking lot as Marty walked toward the back where his car was parked. The salesman didn’t even seem to realize he was being led away from his office.

  Marty waited until we were right next to his car so we could enjoy the look on the salesman’s face when he opened the door of his beat-up BMW. The salesman’s expression said it all.

  As Marty and I slipped into the car, Marty said, “Think I’ll stay with my Beemer for now.”

  We giggled about it all the way back to Palm Beach.

  The night ahead of us ended up being one of the best endings to one of the best weekends of my life. I tried another one of Marty’s crazy little pills, and this time we didn’t wait for Allie to show up. I called her. And she brought a friend. A tall, very young, and really hot Czech bartender from Café Boulud, the restaurant right in the hotel. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and he eagerly accepted one of Marty’s homemade Ecstasy tabs. I couldn’t even pronounce his name, which didn’t sound like it had any vowels in it, and his accent was thicker than Allie’s. But he wasn’t here to talk.

  Before I knew it, we had our own disco going, with my speakers blaring out dance songs from the eighties on Pandora. We left the music on as each couple started to get more intimate and clothes started to fly onto the floor.

  The young bartender looked like he belonged in a Tommy Hilfiger ad, with his flat stomach and ripple of muscles that popped perfectly against his tightie-whities.

  Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. It wasn’t like when Allie would tap and then rap a little harder. This was an immediate pounding.

  Allie scooted from the couch and said, “I’ll get fired if I’m caught in here.”

  “Me too,” added the bartender.

  I shut off the music and called out, “Who is it?” Trying to keep my best homemaker’s voice.

  From outside the door I heard, “Palm Beach Police, Mrs. Moore.”

  That had an effect on Marty, who sprang up and started toward the bedroom. I said, “You need to stay out here with me this time. These two have to go into the bedroom. They can’t be caught in here or they’ll lose their jobs.”

  Marty said, “Leave it to me. They won’t get their names.” He scrambled to get dressed as I slipped my blouse back on and pulled up a pair of shorts. I opened the door a crack, like I was worried about who was there. It was the same two cops who had crashed our first party. That must have been how they’d known my name.

  I opened the door and waved them inside.

  Only one of the cops spoke, just like last time. He was tall and handsome, with blond hair and great arms. They strained the sleeves of his polyester uniform.

  He glanced around the room and noticed the other clothes, and even I could see the shadows of Allie and the bartender under the door of the bedroom. They weren’t particularly discreet.

  The cop said, “Looks like you’re having quite a party.”

  Marty smiled and said, “Wanna join in?”

  Neither of the cops thought that was very funny, and they got it across with a long, surly look at Marty. That made Marty clear his throat and say, “Just kidding, you guys.”

  The cop pulled a pad from his back pocket and said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Moore, but we had another complaint about the noise. I just need to write a quick report about it. If you promise to keep it down, we’ll let this one slide too.”

  “I promise.” I was in no mood to deal with the police.

  The cop looked at Marty and said, “And your name, sir?”

  Marty hesitated. “Why do you need my name?”

  “Why don’t you want to give me your name?”

  “Why should I give you my name?”

  “Because we were called here on a complaint of noise and you appear to have been contributing to that noise. I think we’ve been very polite and pleasant during this encounter, but that is going to end if you don’t give me your name. Now.”

  I immediately understood that Marty was distracting the cops from Allie and the bartender, but I also saw how serious the cop was, so I was surprised that Marty stood his ground. He really didn’t want to give the cop his name. The whole encounter was kind of thrilling, at least through my drug-enhanced view of it. I just hoped Marty’s ploy worked and the cops didn’t go to the bedroom and get Allie’s and the bartender’s names as well.

  Finally Marty said, “My name is Martin Hawking.” He didn’t give the cop any more trouble as he provided his date of birth and address.

  On the way out, the cop said, “You guys need to keep it down. Palm Beach go
es to bed early and it doesn’t like scandals.”

  Allie peeked out of the bedroom as soon as she heard the door shut, and Marty excused himself to go to the bathroom.

  Allie said, “I could hear everything through the door. Your boyfriend just saved our jobs. He’s fantastic.”

  I looked at her and said, “Yes, yes, he is.”

  Chapter 18

  The next morning I woke up with Marty’s arm draped across me. For a few seconds I panicked, wondering if Allie and the bartender were still in the apartment. I had never experienced that kind of fear in the morning and vowed right then never to take another one of Marty’s crazy pills. I’m not saying I regretted it. Everyone needs to get wild once in a while, but things had gone a little too far last night. I wasn’t completely clear on what had happened after the cops left.

  We knew to keep it quiet, but there was still more drinking, and the bartender had some really potent pot. The night got wilder, and now I vaguely recalled Allie and the bartender slipping out sometime in the early-morning hours.

  Marty stirred and I turned in bed, giving him a kiss to wake him up. That put the smile that I wanted to see on his face.

  Without prompting, he said, “Maybe we don’t need any pharmaceutical help to have fun anymore. I’m not sure I’ll ever say the sentence ‘It’s not really a party until the cops show up’ again.”

  That made me laugh as I rolled onto my back and looked up at the ceiling. It wasn’t just the small square footage of the apartment that was such a change from my previous residence; it was the overall feel of everything, from the low ceilings to the tiny bathroom. It immediately got me thinking about my house on South Ocean and the jackass who’d thrown me out of it.

  Marty said, “What would you like to do today?”

  An idea popped into my head and I just said it out loud: “I have a key to my old house, and I’d like to pay a visit if Brennan isn’t there.”

  “You want to burglarize your old house?”