The World According to Vince - A romantic comedy (Gym or Chocolate Book 2)

by Stuart Reardon

  “I thought I was going to have to find a new best man,” Rick said as he sent the video to my phone.

  “Nah, I’ve got the eye of the tiger, mate.”

  “It was a lion.”

  “Yeah.”

  Rick looked at his wristwatch. “What do you think the girls are doing?”

  “Wrestling naked in a vat of chocolate and filming themselves,” I sighed and Rick slapped the back of my head. “What? That’s one of my favorite fantasies!”

  “You’re talking about my fiancée, mate.”

  “Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting that.”

  Rick shook his head. “Shall we call it a night?”

  “No way! It’s been brilliant so far, but we’ve only just started. Ah, come on, buddy! At least let’s have dinner,” I pleaded, a bit deflated that Rick was ready to throw in the towel despite all my super cool efforts to force him to have a little fun.

  “Fine,” he grimaced, giving me a friendly punch in the shoulder that nearly knocked me over. “Let’s eat.”

  Relieved that he wasn’t bailing on me just yet, I even offered to do the pedaling and we rode to Central Park in style, heading for the Tavern on the Green. I usually just went there for coffee as their menu consisted of meat and fish, but I knew that it was one of Rick’s favorite places to eat. We’d been friends a long time but when I finally persuaded him to try a plant-based diet, he only lasted six months. I think it was all the gas.

  When I’d made our reservation at the Tavern, I asked them if they could make something vegan for me. It got boring have grilled vegetables with salad everywhere if I didn’t plan ahead.

  Rick looked genuinely pleased when we arrived. “No strippers? No dancing telegrams? No ritual humiliation? Just food?”

  “Just food,” I promised.

  Of course, at the time, I didn’t know that I wasn’t going to be able to keep that promise.

  We sat down at our table for six, ignoring the irritated look the hostess threw at the empty seats, but Rick scanned the menu happily. I already knew what I was having, so now was the time for me to do the most important part of my best man’s duties.

  I leaned forward. “Mate, it’s not too late for you. I can get you to the airport in 40 minutes.”

  Rick looked up and frowned. “Too late for what? What are you talking about?”

  “To get a flight back to Britain. I’ll tell Cady you’ve had second thoughts and the wedding’s off. It’s okay, it happens to lots of blokes. There’s no shame in it—well, not much.”

  Rick slapped the menu onto the table and started strangling his napkin. “When have I ever said that I don’t want to marry Cady?”

  “Um, not sure, let me think about that, um…”

  “How about never,” Rick offered crossly. “I’ve never said that because I do want to marry Cady. I love her. And I’m not sitting here talking to you about my feelings!”

  I pretended to wipe sweat off my forehead. “Just checking, mate. Part of the best man duties.”

  Rick smirked. “You reckon you could have pedaled me to JFK in 40 minutes?”

  “Don’t be a muppet—I’d have called an Uber.”

  The server came out with two loaded plates and we’d just started our meal when a woman behind me screamed. I wondered if she’d found an earwig in her soup, but it turned out to be a bit more serious than that.

  Several other people joined in with the screaming, and suddenly there were people yelling and a mass exodus of diners trying to lock themselves in the kitchen or the restrooms.

  We both stood up, uncertain what was going on.

  “Run!” yelled the man next to me. “There’s an escaped lion out there!”

  “What?”

  “A lion!” he shouted and pointed behind him.

  The lights outside the restaurant glowed brightly and suddenly I saw him. “That’s not a lion,” I said.

  “It bloody well looks like one to me,” Rick muttered. “What with the mane and teeth and everything.”

  “No, I mean obviously it’s a lion, but it’s Simba from the show—you know, Jabari!”

  Someone started yelling about calling the police and shooting it. I couldn’t let that happen: I knew what I had to do.

  I headed for the door but Rick grabbed my arm.

  “Don’t be an idiot, Vin! You can’t go out there. You don’t know if it’s the same lion!”

  “Course it is! Look, he’s got that little scar by the side of his nose—it’s definitely him. I don’t know how he escaped from the theater, but he’s probably heading home to the zoo. It’s not far from here. But if the police get here first, they might try and shoot him. We can’t let that happen!”

  I shook off Rick’s arm and went outside.

  “Jabari,” I said quietly.

  The lion followed me with those hypnotic sloping eyes, then opened his mouth in a roar that had me crapping my pants. It occurred to me several seconds too late that coming out here might not have been the smartest thing I’d ever done. Perhaps this was the sort of shit that was always getting me into trouble with people—people like Gracie.

  “Jabari, buddy,” I said, my voice a little more high-pitched than usual as my balls shrank to the size of grape seeds. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me from the theater? Been a long night, eh?”

  He padded towards me and I wondered if it was too late to hide behind a table. But instead, he butted me in the stomach with his heavy head like a big ole cat asking to be stroked.

  Once I could breathe again, I ran my hands through the wiry tufts of his mane and stroked the softer fur of his ears, feeling relieved as his eyes closed in pleasure.

  “You had me a bit worried there for a moment, Jabari,” I said. “I’ll have to change me underwear.”

  The restaurant door opened and Rick appeared holding a chair in front of him with one hand and a large, heavy candlestick in the other.

  “Vin! You still alive?” he whispered. “The police are on their way and someone from the zoo with a tranquilizer gun.”

  “Ah, mate! That’s just overkill. Jabari’s an old fella—he doesn’t want to get shot!”

  “Yeah, and I don’t want to get mauled to death,” Rick muttered.

  “He won’t hurt you,” I scoffed. “They wouldn’t have brought him to the theater if they were worried he was dangerous.”

  “Then why are they sending someone from the zoo to shoot him?”

  “Look, I’ll talk to him.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Jabari! You know, like Dr. Doolittle. Animals listen to me.”

  “Vin, get back in the restaurant now!”

  “Seriously, it’s cool. I think he came here to find me. It’s like I’m the chosen one or something.”

  And then I had a brilliant idea. If I got in the Pedicab, I could lead Jabari back to the zoo and there’d be no need to tranquilize him!

  Persuading Rick wasn’t easy, and he refused to go anywhere unless he could take the chair and candlestick with him.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to take souvenirs from this restaurant, Rick. Did you pay the check, because I forgot?”

  “Shut up and pedal,” he snarled, side-eyeing Jabari who was padding along beside us.

  It was different pedaling through Central Park at night without any people around and I was rather enjoying myself, but Rick didn’t seem to be feeling very chatty. He was probably tired: great coming out of the gate, but not too much for stamina. I think I heard that in a film once.

  But when we arrived at the zoo, there was another problem: it was locked.

  Jabari sat down and yawned.

  Still looking wary, and still holding his chair and candlestick, Rick climbed out of the back of the Pedicab and stared at the locked entrance.

  “I can’t find a doorbell,” I said.

  Rick threw me a look that was supposed to mean something. I shrugged.

  “How do we get in?”

  “We wait for the police a
nd the man with the tranquilizer gun,” said Rick, one eye still on Jabari who seemed to have fallen asleep.

  “Ah, come on! We can’t let him get shot! He’s snoring!”

  Rick sighed. “Okay, can you climb the gate and find some way of opening it from the inside?”

  I eyed the wall. “Maybe. If you stand on the chair and I get on your shoulders, I should be able to reach the top of the wall.”

  Glancing again at Jabari who was now drooling in his sleep, Rick stood on the chair. It wobbled slightly as I climbed onto Rick’s back then slowly fumbled my way up until I was swaying on his shoulders like amateur hour at Cirque Du Soleil.

  “Stand still!” I grumbled.

  “I am standing still!” he hissed. “You’re bloody heavy so hurry up!”

  Taking a deep breath, I launched myself at the wall and managed to get one leg over it, wincing when I found some sharp bits sticking into me knob. Then with an embarrassingly girly yelp, I tumbled over the other side, landing on my hands and knees.

  “Did you fall on your face?” Rick’s muffled voice came from the other side. “Because Cady will have to hide you at the back of the wedding photos.”

  “My face would win awards,” I grinned, coming around to peer at him through the gates.

  Rick looked relieved that his best man was still alive. “Can you find a way to open the doors?” he asked.

  “I dunno. Is Jabari still sleeping?”

  Rick’s face seemed paler in the lamplight as he realized that he was on the same side as Simba, and Dr. Doolittle, moi, was on the other side of the gate.

  He grabbed the chair and candlestick again. “Yes, he’s still asleep,” he whispered. “Hurry up!”

  I looked for something I could use to force the padlock. “Oi, Rick! Throw that candlestick over the wall.”

  “But … but it’s my weapon,” he said feebly.

  “Shut up and chuck it over, you loser!”

  Reluctantly, he threw me the candlestick, and I had to use all my strength to lever open the heavy, iron padlock. Just when I thought I’d have to give up, it finally snapped, and the gates swung apart.

  I walked back out, then Rick and I both stared at Jabari.

  “You’d better wake him up,” I said.

  Rick shook his head. “He’s your lion. You wake him up.”

  We both looked at Jabari. He seemed very peaceful but ya know, no one likes being woken up from a deep sleep. I swallowed and glanced at Rick.

  “Can I borrow your chair?”

  He handed me the wooden chair then watched as I gently prodded Jabari with a chair leg. He grunted but didn’t wake up.

  “Harder,” said Rick.

  “Mate, I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say those words,” I quipped.

  Never let it be said that the Vin-meister missed a chance for a joke.

  “Shut up and wake him up!” Rick whisper-shouted. “I can hear police sirens!”

  I prodded Jabari a bit harder and he opened one eye, then sat up yawning. He had a lot of teeth.

  “Come on, buddy,” I said, pointing toward the zoo with the chair. “Time to go home before someone shoots you in the arse.”

  Sighing, he rose to his enormous feet and padded quietly towards me.

  “Um, I think he wants you to go with him,” said Rick. “He probably wants a midnight snack.”

  Ignoring Rick, I led Jabari back into the zoo just as the police arrived along with a harried looking zoo keeper.

  “It’s okay!” I yelled. “I’ve taken Jabari home! You don’t have to shoot him.”

  “Who’s that clown with the lion?” asked one of the police officers from behind a gun.

  “That’s the Canine Crusader,” said Rick, grinning at me.

  “Dude, seriously! You rescued a lion?” the police officer gaped. “I thought you just did dogs?”

  “Any animal in trouble can come to me,” I replied. “I am the chosen one.”

  “What a guy!” said the police officer, shaking his head.

  “Oh, bloody hell,” Rick sighed.

  I helped the zoo keeper put Jabari back in his compound. The poor old fella looked knackered after his unplanned evening out. “I’ll come and visit you, buddy,” I said, stroking his ears.

  He blinked at me, yawned again, then ambled off into the darkness as the zoo keeper wiped his forehead and locked the door to Jabari’s compound.

  By the time I was back at the main entrance, a TV news crew had arrived.

  “Is it true that you rescued a lion?” the reporter asked in amazement.

  “Yes, it’s true,” I grinned at her. “Animals understand me. It’s like I can talk to them. I think it’s because I was hit by lightning when I was a kid. Ever since then, I’ve been able to know what animals think.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing!”

  “Yes, it’s a gift,” I agreed.

  “Sorry to interrupt, folks,” said the police officer. “But I’m going to have to arrest Mr. Azzo for breaking into the zoo.”

  “But … but I was putting the lion back!” I protested.

  “It’s still burglary,” said the police officer as he snapped on a pair of handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent…”

  “Rick!” I yelled. “Call me lawyer! Get Gracie!”

  Grace

  Tears were pouring down my face as Patrick Swayze ran his invisible hands over Demi Moore.

  “Why is life never that good?” I sobbed.

  “Yeah,” Cady sighed. “Except for the fact he’s dead.”

  “Men suck,” I nodded in agreement.

  Cady’s phone rang and she got that dopey look on her face which told me Rick was calling her. I hugged my cushion tighter and sighed. I couldn’t imagine having that look on my face when some guy phoned me. Especially not Vince. When he called, if I happened to see my reflection, I’d probably look like I was sucking on a lemon.

  And then I remembered that kiss from the fashion show and sighed again. My own for real An Officer and a Gentleman moment, except Vince had been wearing Lycra and floppy dog ears rather than crisp Navy Whites. Okay, not quite as romantic, but still…

  Fascinating factoid: John Travolta turned down the role of Zack Mayo; he’d also turned down ‘American Gigolo’, which was a huge hit for none other than Richard Gere. Way to make lousy movie choices, John.

  Cady sat up straighter, spilling her glass of wine as she slammed it onto Vince’s coffee table.

  “He did what? You’re where? How long? Who else? When? For God’s sake, Rick! Why?”

  The thought crossed my mind that you could tell Cady had a background in journalism. Personally, I’d always thought that she missed her calling as a kick-ass FBI agent. But then her words sunk in as she turned her uh-oh face to me.

  “Right, I’ll tell her. You are in so much trouble, Rick Roberts!”

  Cady tossed her phone onto the coffee table next to the spilled wine, then swore and grabbed her sweater to mop it up.

  The dogs were all awake now, looking at us expectantly as if it was time for a game or a walk or another round of Milk-Bones.

  A cold rush of sobriety had me sitting upright and I rubbed my eyes, blotting drying tears with a tissue.

  “What did Vince do?” I asked with ominous foreboding.

  Cady gritted her teeth. “He’s been arrested.”

  I nodded.

  “For burglarizing Central Park Zoo.”

  I nodded again.

  “For rescuing a lion and trying to take it home.”

  I blinked. “A lion?”

  Cady exploded. “Yes, a goddamn lion! A lion! With teeth and claws and an untameable desire for raw meat! Your client is a maniac! Rick could have been eaten! I could have been standing under the chuppah on my wedding day next to a can of Chum! I cannot believe Vince has done this! I’m going to kill him! Slowly! Or maybe quickly! I am so mad at him!”

  “I’ll help. Um, did Rick get arrested, too?”

  She calmed
down a little, the murderous rage fading from her eyes.

  “No, thank God. He’s down at the 20th precinct where they took Vince.”

  I glanced up as I worked my phone, the liquor receding rapidly from my veins. “They didn’t take him to Central Booking?”

  “No. Is that good?”

  “Yes, it means they’re still deciding whether or not to charge him.”

  “We have to get over there!”

  “I’ll go. You have to stay with the kids. Tap gets anxious if she’s left alone.”

  For a moment, Cady looked mutinous but then sighed and nodded. “Fine, you’re right. And I’d probably be arrested for assault or intent with a deadly weapon.”

  “You’re holding your phone,” I pointed out.

  “You haven’t seen what I can do with my phone when I’m mad!” she said darkly.

  “True.”

  I stood up and found my coat.

  “You’re taking this very calmly,” said Cady, looking me up and down.

  I gave her a thin smile. “It’s not my first rodeo. And let’s face it: Vince + bachelor party + New York City = disaster.” I shrugged into my coat. “I’ll call you.”

  The Uber I’d summoned honked outside the door and I bent down to kiss the kids, with a special squeaky one for Tap, then hurried out into the night.

  To rescue Vince.

  From himself.

  Again.

  Vince

  If I was honest with myself, Rick’s stag night hadn’t gone entirely as planned.

  The sports bar had been good, except for those tossers Rafe and Elias ditching us; and the striptease show had been fantastic, except for Rick having his family jewels felt up by a strange woman with purple eyeshadow; and the Pedicab had been brilliant, except it was a bit chilly if you weren’t the one pedalling; and The Lion King had been epic, except for Rick checking his phone every five minutes; and the meal would have been good, except we didn’t get to taste it (although on the plus side, we hadn’t paid for it either). But then I’d been arrested, and if anyone was arrested on a stag night out, it was supposed to be the groom.

  So mostly a successful evening.

  I hoped Gracie wouldn’t be too mad about the last part.

  But after what seemed like hours of listening to the drunk in the next cell to me singing Freedom off-key, I wasn’t quite as optimistic.