A Billionaire for Christmas

by Phillips, Carly

  If they don’t want us all to be together on the holidays, that’s their decision.

  “I’m gonna go ask right now. And you’ll see. Everyone will be thrilled.” Emma lets go of my hand and starts powerwalking over to her mother and father, who are standing in front of the giant palm tree, ready to light it up.

  The Thanksgiving convo went like this:

  Hey, brothers! Now that we’re all reconnected through this bizarre secret-society bullshit, would you like to spend Thanksgiving with my new replacement family in Key West?

  Which, OK, probably not the best way to start a conversation about reconnecting our familial ties, but what can I say? I’m a charmer.

  They were not impressed, nor were they swayed into participating.

  I came to terms with the idea a long time ago that while I do have two brothers, I don’t really have a family. I’m OK with that. Emma has enough family energy to make up for what I missed out on. And also, honestly, I don’t need all my old family baggage following me into this new life.

  I’m walking over to Emma to tell her to forget it when I bump right into Miles. “Hey, dude,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys were headed to Vegas?”

  Miles smiles at me. And wow, this guy looks totally different when he’s not wearing his jet-butler outfit. Right now he’s wearing faded jeans and a white t-shirt. And for like three whole seconds I think, This is Miles, right? Did I just approach a total stranger and act like we’re friends?

  But no, Miles smiles. “Master Jesse. Nice to see you in a more personal atmosphere. Christopher and I are heading out later tonight and we’ll be ready for Sin City by morning.”

  I point at him. “Can’t miss out on this good time, right?”

  “Exactly, sir.” He leans in towards me. “But if I may ask…”

  “Ask away.”

  “What is Miss Emma up to?”

  We both swing our gazes over to Emma, who is chatting with her mom near the tree as her father talks into a microphone, counting down from ten as he holds the switch to turn on the palm tree lights.

  “Don’t ask, dude. It’s a whole fiasco that involves Joey and Johnny Boston.”

  “Understood, sir,” Miles says. Just as Emma breaks away and starts heading back towards us, her father gets to one, the tree lights up, and the whole street erupts in a loud cheer.

  “Hey, Miles!” Emma shouts over the cheers. Then to me, “Come on. I told you she’d say yes!”

  “But Alonzo—”

  She’s already tugging me over to the tree. “Forget Alonzo. He’s not in charge of anything. When my mother makes a decision, it’s a done deal.” She stops in front of the tree and positions me in between Tony and Zach. Zach and I do a little head-nod greeting. Then cameras start flashing and I realize we’re in the middle of a photoshoot.

  Probably gonna be in the paper tomorrow.

  Can’t outrun the fucking news. No matter how hard I try.

  Emma is talking the whole time. “Call them right now. In my mother’s mind, they should be here already. Tell them…”

  She goes on and on about what I should tell them. And I can see that there’s no way out of this now, so I press Joey’s contact first. He doesn’t pick up. I’m just in the middle of leaving a message about this new twist when who comes walking up to Emma but Kraken Karen?

  I end the call and try to intervene before Emma notices, but too late. Karen is tapping Emma on the shoulder, and shoving a newspaper at her, and her face is nothing but a wide smile.

  But it’s not really Karen’s face I’m watching. It’s Emma’s.

  Because her face is not smiling. Her face has an expression of utter horror as she takes the paper from Karen and then just stares at it in abject panic.

  “What?” Emma yells it so loud I can hear it over the excited crowd. “What?” Then she whirls to glare at her mother.

  “Ut-oh,” Miles says, coming up next to me.

  “Ut-oh is right. I gotta go.” I rush over and take Emma’s hand as she starts saying things like, “What the hell, Mom? What the fuck?”

  Silvia is saying, “Language, Emma! There are children here!”

  But Emma is giving out no fucks. Or she is. Because ‘fuck’ is coming out of her mouth at regular intervals.

  I tug on her, trying to get her away from, if not her mother and Karen, at least the damn photographers—because they are eating this drama up like starving coyotes—but Emma is putting up a fight. “Why would you do that? Mom! Like… what is going through that brain of yours?”

  Silvia is saying, “I just want you to have the perfect wedding, Emma! You’re my only daughter. And there’s no chance of your brothers ever having a wedding the way they date!”

  This makes Luke go, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  But I’m pretty sure we all know what that means. I do, at least. Because Joey is in the same kind of relationship and how do you marry two or more people at the same time, right?

  Tony says, “God, why do you care if we get married?”

  Alonzo is pointing to his father, saying, “You didn’t tell her? What the fuck, Dad? We talked about this.”

  Which only makes me more confused. But the reporters are swarming now. So I make an executive decision based on many past experiences in the tabloid spotlight and drag Emma through the crowd, not stopping until we’re in the side yard of our cottage and then only to open the gate that leads to the backyard.

  The whole time she’s yelling, “Let go of me! My mother has gone too far this time! The wedding is off!”

  “Fuck that,” I say, pulling her through the gate and slamming it closed behind us. “I don’t care what your mother did. The damn wedding is not off!”

  Which makes her plant her hands on her hips and huff, “She has ruined everything,” as she stomps her foot.

  “OK,” I say, putting up my hands. “Calm down. Tell me what the hell just happened.”

  “She told Kraken Karen she can plan my wedding, Jesse! She’s some hotshot wedding planner! And”—she stops to suck in a deep breath—“aaaaaand! My maid of honor!”

  “What?” I laugh. I can’t help it.

  “It’s not funny!”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Because apparently, my mother’s delusional mind thinks we’re best friends. And Karen just came over to me to say thank you for the invite and she really appreciates my business! I have to pay her! Pay her, Jesse! And she’s so excited about the announcement that went out in the paper today! Today, Jesse! She had it announced today!”

  “So we can like… unannounce it, right? She’s not gonna plan our wedding. We didn’t sign any contract with her. And she can’t be your maid of honor. Mila, or Natalie, or Hannah already has that spot, right?”

  “Right! Those girls are my best friends. Not stupid Kraken Karen! But that’s not even the worst part. My mother already had her start planning the whole thing. Look!” She thrusts the paper she’s still holding at me.

  And sure enough, there is a very succinct headline that explains the entire débâcle.

  Local Girl to Wed Baby Boston in a Special Dumas Street Event May twenty-fifth.

  “Damn.” Then I squint my eyes. “Did we set…”

  “No! No! We did not set a date yet! And we are not getting married in some street festival! But my mother has made all the arrangements! Look at the subheading!”

  I don’t want to. I really don’t. And I’m just about to toss the paper so I don’t have to when Emma begins reading it aloud. “‘Exclusive pictures of the custom Vera Wang dress, interview with bridesmaid and wedding planner Karen Krakken Channing, and an inside look at the menu!’”

  I have to cover my mouth so I don’t laugh.

  “It’s not funny! It’s my wedding!”

  “I’m not laughing about that, Ems. It’s just… Chauncey Channing? What the fuck?”

  She looks at me for a moment, so angry. And then her rage
breaks and she laughs too. “I know, right? Like who the fuck names their kids Chance and Chauncey Channing?”

  I reach for her, pull her in close, and hug her tight. “I get it, Emma. It’s your wedding. And it’s your day. And you should have everything you want, just the way you want it. And you will. Don’t worry. You will.”

  “I won’t!” She pulls back a little. “She’s ruined it all!”

  “So? We can just… undo it. What kind of dress do you want?”

  “I don’t know yet! It’s a big decision. I need time to just think, ya know? But I want to be the one to choose the dress. And I want us to be the ones to taste the wedding cake. And I want us to have the damn ceremony wherever we want! Maybe we want to get married in the city? Did she ever think of that? Maybe we want to get married in the Bossy, for fuck’s sake! You should have some say in this, right?”

  “The Bossy? You’re just ranting now, right?”

  “Yes. I’m ranting. But would it be so bad if we got married somewhere that’s important to you?”

  “That place… it’s not important, Emma.”

  “God, you’re as delusional as my mother. Of course it’s important! You grew up there! It’s your home!”

  “It’s not a home. It’s an office building.”

  She points her finger at me. “Ya know, for a guy who told his badass brother just last night that Christmas isn’t about church, just twenty-four hours later you can’t grasp the irony of you telling me that a home can’t be an office building.”

  “OK.” I sigh. “Let’s take a deep breath and just… calm down.”

  “Calm down!”

  But then the gate opens and Emma whirls, ready to throw down if the interloper happens to be Karen Krakken Channing.

  I chuckle again. Because my God, that name.

  But it’s not Karen. It’s just Miles.

  “Is everything all right, ma’am?”

  “Oh, Miles. I’m so sorry you had to see all that. Yes, I’m fine. Or I will be once we cancel the wedding and make another announcement in the paper that the whole thing is off.”

  Miles shoots me a look of What the hell is she talking about?

  “Forget it,” I tell Miles. “She’s just upset because Silvia asked Kraken Karen to plan the wedding and be her bridesmaid.”

  “Ah,” Miles says, understanding. “Well…” Then he laughs. “You could always just elope to Vegas with us tonight and do it your way.”

  Miles and I have a good laugh about that. ‘Yeah. That’s a great idea, Miles. We’ll just elope tonight and get married in Vegas!”

  But Emma is not laughing.

  “He’s kidding, babe. And so am I.”

  “I was joking, ma’am. I apologize. This is no time for jokes.”

  Still, Emma is silent.

  “Emma?” I ask.

  She brightens. Then she turns to Miles. “Oh, my God. You’re a genius, Miles.”

  “I do my best, ma’am.”

  Then Emma turns to me. “This really is a great idea! We’re eloping to Vegas. Tonight.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Fuck it. My mother wants to hire a wedding planner behind my back? Fine. She can have that wedding on May twenty-fifth. Our real wedding is happening tomorrow. December twenty-fourth.”

  “But…” I look at Miles. “Don’t you need like… a venue?”

  “Not in Vegas, sir. You just go pull up to the drive-through.”

  “Oh.” Emma laughs. “Oh, that’s perfect. I am going to need all the pictures of that. I will teach my mother not to meddle in my life again.”

  “Emma,” I say. “You’re not serious, right? You want the big day. You just said so. A drive-through wedding isn’t a big day, babe. It’s… it’s an afterthought.”

  “No. Not if we’re the ones who plan it. Look, we could take back the announcement. We could humiliate my mother publicly. Make her look like a fool. And that will certainly teach her a lesson. But the sneakier way to do this is so much better. We get married, she doesn’t get to be there—no one gets to be there. Karen Krakken never gets her day on the society page next to Baby Boston and the Bright Berry Beach billionairess, and you know what the best part is?”

  I raise my eyebrows at her. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “We could be back here in time for Christmas Eve dinner and they would never know.” She turns to Miles. “Don’t worry. You and Christopher can stay in Vegas as planned. We’ll take a charter back.”

  “Very well, ma’am. Good plan.”

  “Good plan? Miles! Dude. This is insanity! Emma is trying to out-boss her bossy mother.”

  “And then”—Emma is still on a roll—“then… I’m gonna call up the local paper and make them announce our drive-through Vegas wedding. Ha! Merry Christmas, Mom!”

  “Emma… let’s just take a minute—”

  But she’s pointing to Miles. “When can we leave?”

  “Within the hour, ma’am.”

  “Perfect. We’ll pack and meet you at the airport. Let’s do this.” And then she turns to me, wraps her arms around my neck, rises up on her tiptoes, kisses me on the mouth, and says, “This will be the most perfect one-up wedding ever!”

  I kiss her back, giving in. “I have no doubt, my bossy bride. No doubt at all.”

  Chapter Eight

  Obviously, we have to travel light since this is a stealth mission, but it’s no big deal. We don’t even need to book a hotel because we’re not going to stay over in Vegas. Just land, get hitched in the most outrageous way possible—maybe not an actual drive-through, but for sure something equally ridiculous—and then meet our charter plane back at the airport by eleven AM so we can make it back to Key West for Christmas Eve dinner by eight PM and no one will even know we left.

  Take that, Mom. You bossy-buttinski. You think you can out-boss me? Please. I’m the bossiest bosser ever. Even Jesse has to admit that I can out-boss him any day of the week. My mother has nothing on me. Nothing.

  Jesse walks out of the bedroom dragging one wheelie carry-on.

  “What did you pack?”

  “Toothbrushes, makeup, two t-shirts, two pairs of shorts, and my shaving kit.”

  I stare at him, letting the reality of things sink in fully for a moment. “We’re sure?”

  “Hey, babe, you’re in charge of the wedding. I follow you in all matrimony matters.”

  “Good answer.” I snicker. “OK. So. First, we need to get to the airport.” Both of us look out the front window, where the street party is still in full swing. “We can’t go that way, obviously.” I get out my phone, pull up my Uber app, and then ask for a car. “We’ll sneak around back and meet our Uber there. Oh, look! One is just two minutes away! It’s like fate!” I press the button to call the car. “Let’s go.”

  We go out through the back yard and leave through the side gate. But it becomes clear that the only way to get over to the street behind us is through Kraken Karen’s side yard.

  “Shit.” I look over my shoulder at the street party. “Do you think the Kraken is still out there? Because we have to sneak past her house.”

  Jesse looks lazily at the party, then back at me, and shrugs. “Your plan, Ems. I follow you.”

  I huff. “It would not kill you to be a little bossy, ya know?”

  “I don’t know where Karen is. But”—he looks past me towards her house—“it’s pretty dark in there. I bet they’re all at the party. Come on, I’ll lead the way since you’re terrified of her.” He takes my hand and starts pulling me along the fence towards the Krakken back yard.

  “I’m not terrified of her,” I whisper back as we creep. “I can take Kraken Karen any day of the week.”

  He shoots a dubious look over his shoulder. “Babe, come on. We’re eloping to Vegas in the middle of the night just so you don’t have to let her plan your wedding.”

  “And be my bridesmaid! Anyway, what’s your point?”

  “My point is… that’s kind of ridiculous.”


  “In a good way though, right?”

  “Sure.” He chuckles. “In a good way.”

  Karen’s back yard doesn’t have a fence, so pretty soon we’re over in enemy territory. Then we see the headlights of a slowly creeping car that must surely be our ride come into view and stop in front of the Krakken house. I wasn’t paying attention when I called it, so I bet her address popped up once I moved the little marker to one street over.

  It’s fine though. I’m sure she’s still at the party—

  “Who’s there?”

  Shit! Jesse and I stop in our tracks then slowly turn our heads to find a little girl on the back porch. Clearly this is Chauncey Krakken Channing.

  “Just us,” Jesse says good-naturedly. “Your neighbors. We’re meeting that car right there and we’ll be—”

  “Mom!” the little heathen yells.

  “No, no!” Jesse says, dropping my hand and the wheelie handle so he can put both of his up in surrender. “We’re just passing through!”

  “Mom! Emma Dumas and her boyfriend are creeping around our backyard!”

  “Run!” I yell.

  Jesse looks at me. “What?”

  “Run! Now!”

  I take his hand and pull him along the side of Karen’s house and when we come out into the front we see the Uber. But it’s a few houses up now, looking for us. We dart out into Karen’s front yard, trying to head it off before it picks up speed and leaves us behind, when who comes out the front door but—

  “Stop right there, Emma!”

  And I don’t know why, but we do. We stop and turn to look at Karen. She’s standing on her front porch with arms crossed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Vegas,” Jesse says.

  “What the hell, Jesse? You don’t have to tell her!” Then I glare at Karen. “You might think you’ve weaseled your way back into my life, but you’re wrong. You will never, ever”—I’m seething out my words like a crazy woman—“plan my wedding or be my bridesmaid!”