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“If you want me married off, at least have the decency to let me choose my husband, for Christ’s sake.”
After a protracted sigh, he nodded. “Fine. But if a marriage doesn’t materialize soon, then I’ll finalize the deal with Edward and the Kings. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, he made a quick exit, leaving me to gape after him.
“So… Who’s the man?” Delta could hardly keep her amusement contained. “And how come this is the first I’ve heard of him?”
“I’m glad you’re getting a chuckle from this. The old man must be going senile to think he can just marry me off like that.”
“Relax, Honey. You and I both know that Cal isn’t long for this world. The way I see it, you just need to hold him off as long as possible.”
“And how do I do that? Hide under a rock?”
“You’re awesome at casting people in your films. Why not hire an actor to play the role of your doting fiancé? Someone who looks like they have money and who can pretend to adore you.”
A ruse like that would take time to plan, and how long would this fake relationship need to last? No, there had to be a way to convince Cal that I could run the studio and I wouldn’t need his ridiculous proposal to marry me off.
The Beach Bum
BUDDY
Five years Ago
It all started with a bad spicy bean burrito. Countless numbers of the Juan Especial had traveled through my body while I lazed on a beach in Puerto Vallarta or surfed or hiked or swam or did anything I damn well pleased and my heart desired for the past several years. My life choices were never a problem until last night.
The burrito hit me badly. At one point, I’d rested my head on the toilet seat in my beach hut and begged for a reprieve as the next wave of nausea built. Now my ass sat in a local medical clinic, and I prayed like my life depended upon it.
This near-death experience was probably payback for not doing anything with my life since I left Boston.
That thought snapped me to attention. Whatever it was, I needed this punishment to stop. I’d do anything, pay anything, to stop my insides from regurgitating all over the floor. For one millisecond, I almost added that I’d give up my millions, but let’s not get carried away here.
My millions, soundly diversified and paying me rich dividends for life, were lucratively funding my nonstop party of alcohol, recreational drugs, outdoor adventures, and yes, burritos from Juan’s local beach dive. If this date with a bad burrito was a sign to change my ways, then?—
“If I live, I’ll change. I will. I promise,” I swore under my breath as my insides twisted more while waiting at the local emergency care.
“Señor Buddy Rodgers?” The doctor finally stopped by and pulled back the curtain on my corner of the emergency bay. “As we suspected, E. coli, and it’s running its course through your system.”
Dr. Lopez, Primario Médico, according to his name tag on his white lab coat, spoke perfect English with a hint of Spanish and possessed a square chiseled jaw like a male fashion model. Too young to be head of a facility like this, in my opinion, and I doubted his prognosis since my insides were inching their way up my esophagus, ready to burst.
“You will be fine, Señor.” He handed me a pill bottle. “Take two of these to prevent further nausea. Chase with plenty of water.”
The doc made notes on a clipboard, then shuffled a few papers. His growing crease in his forehead did nothing to waylay my troubles.
“Hm. Early thirties?” He ran his finger from the top of one of his papers to the bottom, tapping at something written there.
“Yep.” I nodded, although at the moment my body ached like an old man.
“Well, your lab results are decent enough. At your age, though, strive for a healthy diet and exercise regimen. Oh, and lay off the bu-rrrr-itos.” He took no pity on me with his sardonic smile and extended the rolled r’s in burrito. Screw him. I had no niceties left for people in my current state.
Released from care, I threw my clothes back on and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Something about emergency rooms creeped me out, like it was too close to death for me. I could imagine ghosts whispering in the corners, having a good laugh at the joke I’d become.
I pushed out the doors of the building, gasping for fresh air. And that would be the last time I ever ate a burrito, from Juan’s or anywhere. In fact, I removed the word burrito from my vocabulary.
It wasn’t until the next day I felt part of humanity again, and ten pounds of water and intestinal garbage lighter. But I stayed on the couch all day pondering life, at one point transferring to my porch hammock. While watching the sun setting over the Pacific, I ignored my neighbors and random calls to party.
Time drifted away, and I merely existed in the moment, breathing to the tune of the subtle beach breeze.
The hammock, rocking me, with the sunset glowing, warming my skin, and golden sand glinting like earth stars, stirred some sort of truth within me. This near-death episode freaked me the fuck out, like it was a message sent to me from beyond to get my shit together.
I used to have such a fire and passion in my belly when I was younger. Several years ago, my best friend, Daniel Jones, and I had reached the pinnacle of success thanks to an online legal service we sold for millions. Man, we were hustlers back then, with the energy of fearless lightning bolts surging through our twenty-something veins. But I took my huge payday, got drunk and high, and never came back down to earth.
