Toad

by Cambria Hebert

  Turning serious, he said, “It wasn’t like I didn’t try. Most women see me as a friend or a goofball. I’m not Ten.”

  “I love you the way you are.”

  “Thank you.”

  It pierced my heart in a way nothing else ever could, the fact that he was thanking me for loving him.

  Sometimes it surprised me how much we had in common even though we were so very different.

  “Now what’s this about you thinking I’m going to let you walk outta this hotel without me?”

  “You know we can’t be seen there together, Nate. There could be press. And it’s pretty obvious Will has the place on his payroll. They’ll probably call him up the second I walk in the door.”

  “Which is exactly why you can’t go there alone.”

  “I’ll take Mac and Ben.”

  He growled. “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t either. But I really don’t think we have a choice.” I shrugged.

  “You stay here, and I’ll go.”

  “No!” I said, sitting up and staring at him.

  He sat up, too, and nodded. “Yes. I think that’s the safest thing. They won’t know to call him if I walk in there.”

  “I am not putting you any more in the middle of this than you already are.”

  Nate shook his head. “You just said it, princess. I’m already in the middle. It won’t matter.”

  “It matters to me!”

  He took my face in his hands, eyes staring into mine. “It’s my job to protect you.”

  “I have to protect myself. Depending on a man is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

  Hurt flashed in his eyes. “I’m not like Will.”

  “I know that.” I grabbed his hand. “And I love you for wanting to protect me. But I have to do this. I got myself into this mess, and I have to be the one to get myself out.”

  His eyes bounced between mine for a long time before he sighed. “I don’t like this.”

  Relief filled me. “I don’t either, but I’m doing it.”

  Begrudgingly, he said, “You better call Ben and Mac have them meet you downstairs.”

  “They’re already down there waiting.”

  “I didn’t see them.” Nate wondered.

  “There’s a private lounge for security detail behind one of the walls.”

  “Of course there is.” He scoffed.

  I kissed him, then reluctantly reached for my clothes.

  The only thing that kept me going was the fact that, very soon, all this could be over.

  The Palisades Sands of Time Chapel made me queasy. From the minute I walked in, though, I knew I was at the right place. It felt slimy in here, which was just perfect for a man like Will.

  Mac and Ben flanked me. The three of us moved through the gaudy lobby as a single unit. The fact that I even supposedly got married here made my skin crawl. Taking a breath, I reminded myself I wasn’t actually married to Will and that’s why I was here.

  To prove it.

  Because it was so late here, there weren’t a ton of people (how busy would a place like this be, though?), but as we approached the front desk, a couple who were clearly just married burst out a set of double doors across the room. She was all dressed in white, and the groom was laughing as he carried her.

  My stomach tightened. This place might not be my ideal wedding venue, but regardless of the place, that’s the way it was supposed to be.

  Happy. Wanted. Two people in love.

  The bride noticed me staring, and a light of recognition came into her eyes. Turning toward the reception desk abruptly, I prayed to God she didn’t call out my name. Sensing my discord, Mac and Ben closed in behind me, totally shielding me from view.

  Thankfully, the happy couple moved on, getting back to their own happy ending.

  A man came out from behind some curtains, stopping short when he saw me there. He knew who I was instantly, and his eyes turned wary. I plastered a catlike smile on my face, rising to my full height.

  “Hello,” I said, reaching out a hand to shake. He glanced between me and my hand before reluctantly returning the embrace. “I’m Aerie Boone.”

  “I know who you are,” he said coolly. I glanced at Mac and lifted a brow. “Then you know why I’m here?” I asked, turning back to the man.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “I’m here because a few weeks ago, I was apparently married here in this fine establishment.”

  He didn’t say anything, but he did swallow thickly.

  “I’d like to speak with someone who was here that night.”

  “I wasn’t,” he said. “And I don’t know anyone who was.”

  Sighing, I pulled out a copy of the marriage certificate and gazed down at it. “Is Mr. Richman here? He’s the man who officiated the, um, ceremony.” If you could even call it that.

  “I’m not sure if he’s here.” The man hedged.

  “Would you mind checking? I’ll wait.”

  He excused himself and disappeared behind the same curtains he’d come through. Minutes ticked by, and the more time passed, the more certain I was that Will paid off everyone in this place. I began to worry. I began to fear. What if I couldn’t get what I needed here?

  What if I was forced to stay “married” to Will until I could prove that signature wasn’t mine—or worse, file for divorce?

  When I was good and worked up, the man came back, followed by another. Faint recognition flooded me, along with very hazy pictures of standing with him and Will as he went on about marriage.

  I couldn’t deny I’d been here that night. That much was clear.

  “Ah, Mrs. Solberg, how nice to see you again!” Mr. Richman exclaimed. “How are you enjoying life with your new husband?”

  “I’m not,” I said, blunt. “And I think you know that.”

  He seemed taken aback by my frankness, and I took advantage of the fact he was off guard. “How much is Will paying you to fly to California and lie in a court of law about me being in my right mind to consent to the marriage you performed here?”

  He sputtered and gripped the edge of the counter. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ll double whatever he’s paying if you just tell the truth.”

  He blanched. Temptation passed behind his eyes, and then all expression left his features. “I’m so sorry to hear you aren’t enjoying being a wife. You were so happy that night. So excited. I could barely get the words out fast enough before you were shouting, ‘I do!’”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, miserable.

  He wasn’t even fazed by the fact that he was ruining my life. “Telling the truth?”

  “Is there anyone else here tonight who was there at my wedding?” I asked. Clearly, trying to bargain with him wasn’t going to work. Will had his hooks in too deep, and the more I tried, the more it was going to look as though I was trying to tamper with his witness. I probably shouldn’t have offered him money, but, well, desperate times and all.

  “I’m afraid not,” he said with a heavy sigh, as if he were sorry.

  I snorted.

  “Perhaps you should reconsider,” Mac said, leaning on the counter.

  “I can’t help you.” Mr. Richman sniffed, then disappeared behind the curtain.

  “Wait!” I burst out and nearly flung myself across the counter after him. Mac caught me around the waist before I could get across and towed me back.

  “I wouldn’t advise that, Ms. Boone.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Ben caught me around the elbow and led me over toward the front entrance. “Let’s take a moment to regroup.”

  We were standing by a bunch of tall plants—I couldn’t tell if they were real or fake—as I tried and failed to catch my breath. “I’m not leaving here without some kind of proof,” I said, adamant. “I don’t care what that liar says.” I pointed to the front desk accusingly. “I’m not the one who signed that damned paper!”

  All of a sudden, the plants
began rustling around, and a man in a black leather jacket and hat appeared. I screeched and jumped backward. Mac and Ben jerked around.

  “It’s just me!” Nate whispered.

  “Nate!” I gasped, also whispering. “What on earth are you doing here? Were you in that plant?”

  He lifted a hand dismissively. “That British guy taught me this trick.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be here!” I hissed. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

  He smoothed his hands over the black leather jacket, which sort of looked like a bomber-style coat. On his head was some kind of old man hat, and covering his eyes was a pair of mirrored aviator glasses.

  Instead of jeans, he was wearing a rumpled pair of trousers, but his sneakers were still the same.

  He looked ridiculous.

  “Pretty good, right?” he asked. “There’s a thrift shop a block over.”

  Mac and Ben snickered, and I swear their behavior only egged his on.

  “Nate,” I said and pointed to the door silently, telling him to leave.

  “You don’t seem to be having much luck,” he murmured.

  “I’m just going to wait until someone new takes over the counter. I’ve got this,” I said confidently because I was utterly confident I would get this done.

  I had no choice.

  “Watch and learn,” he remarked, straightening his jacket.

  Before I could say anything, Nate strolled across the room as a woman appeared from behind the curtain to stand at the desk.

  “Hey there, gorgeous,” he said, leaning on the counter, chomping on some gum I didn’t even know he had in his mouth.

  “Is there something I can help you with, sir?” the woman asked.

  Clearing his throat, he rose to his full height and reached into the pocket of his coat. “Actually, yes. I’m Carl Flintstone, a licensed private investigator here in Nevada.” He flashed what looked like some kind of badge. “I work very closely with the LVPD.”

  “You’re a police officer?” she asked, interest filling her eyes.

  “Unofficially officially, yes.” He nodded.

  What the hell did that even mean? The woman seemed impressed, however.

  “I need the assistance of someone just like you to help me solve my latest case. You think you’re up for the job?”

  “Well, I can certainly try.”

  “I’ve noted that you have security cameras located around the premises.” He pointed up to one in the corner, which was focused on the desk. “I’m gonna need to look at the footage from the night of…” He pulled out another piece of paper, glancing at it. “March first.”

  “I don’t think I’m allowed to just show that to anyone.”

  “Good thing I’m not just anyone.” He smiled.

  She looked doubtful, and I was about two seconds away from marching over there and demanding to see the footage. Cameras! Why didn’t I notice those before?

  “Barbara,” he said, noting the name on her blouse. “Can I call you Barb?”

  “My mother does,” she said with a giggle.

  “Barb. I could head on down to the LVPD now and get a warrant and make a big to-do of this, possibly interrupting someone’s happy day. Or you could just be a hero and escort me back to the room with the tapes. You could even help me review the footage. It shouldn’t take long.”

  A moment ticked by. Then another. Suddenly, Barbara nodded. “I don’t think it will hurt anything. Cooperating with the police department is always important.”

  “You, Barb, are a fine citizen and the reason I’m proud to call Las Vegas my home.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was laying it on thick.

  She beamed, and I thought about kicking her. “The cameras are just this way,” she said, coming out from behind the counter.

  Nate turned to me and motioned for me to come forward. “Just one more favor, Barb. This is Clary. She’s a witness in the case I’m working on. Highly confidential. I need her to join us in the back.”

  Barb squinted. “You look awfully familiar.”

  “I have one of those faces,” I said, smiling. Please don’t recognize me. Please.

  Nate nodded and moved in front of me. “Mm-hmm.” He agreed. “I said the same thing. She kinda looks like that there famous country singer. ‘Course, this lady here is prettier.”

  Barb’s face lit up. “You’re right. And you are prettier than that girl, honey,” she told me. “Those famous types all look so fake. I think it’s the Botox.” She confided.

  “Must be,” I muttered, utterly insulted.

  Nate hid a laugh, and I glared at him when Barb turned to lead us into the back.

  Mac and Ben moved to follow, but I waved them back. “Wait here,” I mouthed.

  They didn’t seem too happy about it, but they did as I asked.

  Barb led us into this small room with no windows and a bunch of surveillance equipment. Inside the room was a security guard perched on the stool, a soda at his elbow.

  “Hey, John.” Barb giggled when she saw him. “I need you to pull up some footage from March first.”

  “Barbara!” he said, nearly knocking over the soda. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. You’re looking beautiful tonight.”

  Nate gave me a knowing grin. “Say, are you two dating? ‘Cause you make a striking couple.”

  Barb blushed furiously, and John looked like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Ah, no, someone as beautiful as Barbara is out of this old dog’s league.”

  Nate slapped him on the shoulder. “Sometimes a guy gets lucky.” He glanced at me when he said it, and his stupid getup and this crazy plan didn’t seem crazy anymore. It just seemed incredibly sweet.

  “What day did you say you needed?” John asked. He was beginning to blush, too.

  “March first. Sometime late in the evening,” I said, knowing if Will was pulling something shady that night, it would be at a later hour.

  “This might take a minute,” John said and got to work.

  Nate saw Barb hovering by the still-open door and reacted. “Barb, why don’t you come on in? Have a seat right here next to John.” He patted an empty stool, then went to pull her away from the door and closed it quickly.

  “John, Barb here is a practical hero, helping us out like this.”

  “She’s pretty amazing,” he said, glancing her way when she sat beside him. “Oh,” he said, looking back at the monitor, “here we go.”

  I rushed forward to look at the screen, desperate for anything.

  Nate smiled and patted John on the back. “Would you two mind just stepping aside while my witness and I review the footage? Shouldn’t take too long. Just long enough for you to ask Barb out on a date.”

  Barb gasped. John coughed. Nate led them over near the closed door. “I hear the show by Brittany is really something.”

  “Oh, I’ve never been to that,” Barb said.

  Hearing the interest in her voice, John spoke up. “I know the security over there. I could get us some tickets.”

  I stopped listening to their flirting, and Nate returned to my side. Quickly, he pecked a kiss on my cheek, then put his hand on a knob and sped up the footage.

  “Where’d you get the badge, Officer Flintstone?” I murmured as we both stared at the tape.

  “It was a prize in my Fruity Pebbles,” he replied. “I keep it in my wallet. Never know when it might come in handy.”

  I glanced away from the screen to stare at him, astounded. I didn’t know what was crazier—the fact that a grown man carried around a fake badge he’d gotten out of a cereal box in case he needed it or the fact that it actually was of use.

  “Here!” he said, his tone serious, eyes fully focused on the monitor.

  I whipped around to see the paused image of me and Will standing at the desk. “Play it,” I hissed.

  Nate clicked something, and the tape began to roll.

  Saying I was “standing” at the desk was a generous statement. I was mor
e half leaning on it, half supported by Will.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Nate demanded a little too loud.

  “Everything okay over there?” John asked.

  Nate made an annoyed sound. “Going great. We’ll be out of your hair in a moment!”

  I watched, horrified, as I teetered on my feet and Will pulled me up, anchoring his arm around me. “He must have drugged me,” I said, fear and embarrassment overcoming me.

  The monitor blurred a little as unshed tears pushed at the backs of my eyes.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Nate murmured, reaching for my hand. “We’ve got him now. This tape will clearly prove you weren’t… sober.”

  “I want to see the rest,” I said, sniffling.

  “Maybe it’s best—”

  I brushed away Nate’s hand and hit the button. We both watched Mr. Richman come out of the back and shake Will’s hand. The two men talked for a few minutes, and I pretty much stood there looking lost. Mr. Richman asked me a question, but I didn’t answer the first time. When he asked again, Will shook me and I nodded.

  “I’m gonna kill him,” Nate growled.

  “Look,” I whisper-exclaimed, my finger bumping the screen when I pointed.

  Both of us stared as Mr. Richman pulled a piece of paper out of a stack and slid it across the counter toward Will. Nate hit another button on the control panel and zoomed in.

  It was the marriage license, no doubt about it.

  I squeezed Nate’s hand and leaned in.

  It felt as if it took forever for Will to fill it out and scrawl his name at the bottom. Then, Mr. Richman slid the certificate in front of me and held out a pen.

  I shook my head.

  My teeth sank into my lower lip as I watched.

  He offered me the pen again, this time a little more forcefully. I refused it yet again.

  Will grew visibly upset, screwed up his face, and said something in my ear. I flinched away from him, but he followed, whispering more words. From the angle of the camera, we could see me turn and look up at him. Even with just the view of my profile, it was obvious I was upset.

  Will shoved his face in mine, his mouth moving rapidly. Then he grabbed me around the waist and shook. If he hadn’t held on, I would have fallen.

  Will turned back to Mr. Richman, and the two men exchanged a few words. After a moment, Mr. Richman nodded, and Will produced a stack of cash. The second the money was in the man’s hands, Will picked up the pen and scrawled my name across the certificate.