A Billionaire for Christmas

by Phillips, Carly

  They seem to be taking this whole pirate wedding thing very literally.

  “No way,” I tell Jesse. “I’m not wearing that.”

  Jesse sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He pulls out his phone and checks the time. “Babe. We only have thirty minutes before we have to leave. We’re not gonna make it to the third wedding at this point.”

  “But my custom dress! The mean Russian lady is working so hard on it!”

  “I know. But…” He looks at the bride and groom, then back at me. “This might be our only chance to have a real wedding.”

  “My hair is a mess too,” I whine. “I don’t want wedding photos of me looking like some metal-head wannabe!”

  “OK, hold on,” Larry says. “I have an idea.” He holds up one finger and then walks off to the bride and groom.

  “Oh, fuck. He just pulled out three more straps of money,” Jesse says. He looks at me again. “I’m not complaining about the money, OK—”

  “I don’t care about the money.” But that certainly explains his pot belly under the track suit. It was literally made of money. “If we have to leave in thirty minutes, fine. But that wedding on the coaster was… I mean, what was that?”

  “I don’t know. It was weird, right?”

  “It definitely wasn’t legal. I did scream ‘I do,’ but I’m not Karen and you’re not Chad.”

  “Do we even have the legal paperwork to get married?”

  “No clue.”

  “I’m starting to have serious doubts about Fingers’ Fantasy Weddings.”

  “Starting?” I laugh.

  “I knew this was a scam. Maybe we should just skip it and go home?”

  I’m actually considering that when Larry comes back. “OK. We’ve got it all sorted. They took the fifty grand and the dress—”

  “I’m not wearing that dress.”

  “No,” Larry agrees. “They said it’s custom and cost well over what I just paid for the bribe—”

  I snort. Whatever.

  “—but the costume department said they will dress you for the wedding for an extra one large.”

  I look at Jesse and he shrugs. “What’s a thousand dollars more at this point, right?”

  I nod and actually smile. “A real pirate wedding?” I ask Larry.

  “Real pirate wedding. All the actors are ready for this one. They even have a wig for you, Miss Emma.”

  I clap. “OK. Let’s do this!”

  Immediately a team of people appear and whisk me down a hallway. I look over my shoulder at Jesse, but he’s being whisked away by another team in the opposite direction. And I don’t know… this kinda maybe feels more like how it’s supposed to be. Both of us getting ready in different places so we’ll be surprised when we meet up again.

  And all this is going to happen on a pirate ship!

  My team directs me to a makeup chair in front of a mirror and gets busy. Two girls are putting make-up on me at once. Like… lots of makeup. Stage makeup, I realize. But OK. I get it. It’s a show. Plus, they do this every day. They must know what looks good.

  Then a selection of wigs is brought out. All of them are very… pirate wench. But that’s fun, right? I choose a long red one with lots of waves. But wigs aren’t something I’m used to, so I’m surprised when they pull my hair back into a skull cap to get it all tucked away.

  And the makeup is going on a little bit heavy… like my eyes are not smoky, they’re practically pits of darkness. Still, when the wig goes on for styling, it looks good. I don’t look like Emma anymore. But it’s fun.

  I keep telling myself that as my wardrobe choices are presented. There’s a skimpy siren option—no, thank you. A long, ruffly thing that looks like a Victorian dressing gown. Pass. And a vintage white, off-the-shoulder mini-dress with a long lace train. It has more ruffles than I’m comfortable with, and the bell sleeves are way too wide to be practical, but it’s the only one that looks a little bit like a wedding dress. So I choose that.

  It comes with knee-high boots that lace all the way up and it takes two people to get them on me. But ten minutes later they pull me out of the chair and twirl me in front of a full-length mirror.

  Not bad… if you look at me from far away like the spectators who watch the pirate show.

  But Jesse isn’t going to be looking at me from far away. This is a close-up moment if ever there was one. And I look like… Emma Dumas playing dress-up for a Vegas pirate show.

  I cringe. Do I really want my wedding memories to be of wigs and gaudy make-up, a pirate mini-dress that looks more like a Halloween costume than a wedding dress, and knee-high boots?

  No. No, I don’t. But not many people can say they got married on a pirate ship, right?

  Then I rally. Because at least this is my decision. My mother would die—like die—if she were here. She would drag me away, call me insane, and then boss me back to Key West, pronto.

  So I nod my head and smile at the team. “It’s perfect. I’m ready. Take me to my buccaneer groom!”

  Maybe it’s not the dream wedding, but that’s how all perfectly planned moments go, right? They never turn out the way you think. There’s always a reality check.

  Besides, we’re out of time. We need to be back home for Christmas Eve dinner or my mother will kill me. The whole ‘till death do us part’ thing will happen a lot sooner than we think if we don’t make it back in time for her carefully planned festivities.

  They whisk me out of the room, down the hall, and I just get a glimpse of Jesse in full-on swashbuckling pirate gear as I’m led up a set of stairs and he’s pulled in the opposite direction.

  Suddenly I’m surrounded by a bunch of scantily-clad women who are obviously part of the show.

  “Just follow our lead,” one of them says.

  “It’ll be OK, don’t be afraid,” another whispers in my ear.

  “And when they set you free, just go with it. I promise you won’t fall,” the first adds.

  “Wait.” I blink my eyes. “What?” But before I can ask responsible, pertinent questions about what the fuck ‘I promise you won’t fall’ means, I’m pushed through a curtain and walked out—

  “Ho-lee shit,” I breathe.

  I’m on the top level of the pirate ship looking down on a thousand people surrounding the front of the hotel, waiting for the show to start.

  I turn to the girl next to me, a bouncy blonde wearing a fluffy pink and green tutu skirt. “What’s happening?”

  And that’s when the music starts and flames start shooting up the wall behind me.

  I jump. Because hot damn. That geyser of fire puts out some heat!

  Then all the girls are dancing and swaying to the beat of the music. One pushes me forward and I stumble out onto a platform, then make the mistake of looking down.

  “Shit!” I squeal, taking two steps back. But they push me forward again, and then two of them are lifting my hands up in the air and clamping thick metal bracelets onto my wrists. “Wait!” I yell.

  But they do not wait. They attach my new bracelets to a chain affixed to the ship’s mast.

  The show must go on, I guess.

  I’m up in the crow’s nest, I realize. I scan the deck down below, looking for Jesse, but all I see are the siren girls, dancing around and having a good time.

  Then a horn blasts, and more flames are shooting out across the little bridge. Another pirate ship. And that’s where all the buccaneers are.

  I get lost in that sight for a moment. Because there’s like three dozen dancing, shirtless men over there and they are pret-ty nice to look at.

  Suddenly a sword fight breaks out and then there’s mass commotion, and the next thing I know, bare-chested muscly pirates are flying towards me on ropes.

  “Emma!” one of them yells.

  I laugh hysterically when I realize it’s Jesse. All dressed up in a puffy shirt and baggy pants with pirate boots on.

  He swings towards me with wide, surprised eyes—then goes right past
as all the other men jump off their ropes and land in the rigging around the mast and sail.

  I try to turn to see where Jesse is, but I don’t have to look hard, because he comes swaying back my way, still yelling, “Emma!”

  One of the more experienced actors grabs his rope as it goes by and for a moment, I’m positive the sudden jerk will shake Jesse off the rope. But he holds tight. Clings to it, actually. And then two guys are pulling him off the swinging rope and onto the rigging. He shimmies up towards me and I know I should be worried about him falling two stories down onto that deck below, but all I can think about is—no one asked me if I knew how to climb a rope!

  I don’t.

  I suck at rope climbing.

  But luckily, Jesse is a sailor, and he’s got this. And I’m just going to assume there’s no rope climbing in my future, because that would not end well and anyway, there’s no time to think about that. Because six hot pirates are all dancing around me now like this is the Magic Mike show.

  I laugh.

  Best wedding ever!

  One leans into my ear and whispers, “Hey there, Emma. Don’t worry. We won’t let you fall. But you better hold onto me tight!”

  “Ooo-kay,” I stammer. But then I’m like, “Wait. Should I be worried about—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, they’ve freed me from my siren cuffs, and one of them grabs me by the waist.

  I see Jesse climbing up the rigging, and he finally gets to the crow’s nest when the freaking pirate I’m now attached to jumps off.

  We go sailing through the air.

  I scream, “Holy fuuuuuuuuck!”

  Jesse yells, “Emmaaaaaaaa!”

  Then we land precariously on the rigging and another pirate is there, whisking me into his arms. And before I even have a chance to appreciate his hot, sweaty, muscly body, we jump again.

  This time we slide down the rope and I’m sure—like one hundred percent for sure—we’re going to die. But just before we crash into the deck, the fall slows to a stop and when I look up, I see that the pirate holding onto me was using a rope-brake to slow us down.

  My heart is galloping with adrenaline inside my chest. I place my hand over it, trying to focus on the show going on around me and figure out where Jesse is now.

  It’s fake. It’s all fake, Emma.

  I know this, but there’s so much happening my heart is having a hard time believing that.

  “Emmaaaaaaa!”

  I turn to see Jesse swinging towards me on a rope. His shirt is flapping open and I get a good long look at his beautiful chest. “Jesseeeeee!” I yell back.

  His foot actually touches the rigging just above my head, but then another pirate is there, pulling Jesse off. They crash to the deck. Luckily it’s only about six feet and Jesse lands on top of the enemy pirate, and then he’s up on his feet, drawing his sword.

  Oh. I get it. He’s the good pirate sent to save me, the damsel in distress.

  The other pirate draws his sword too and then there’s a flurry of clashing and twirling.

  I’m pulled away—I think this is for my safety—but then… “HOL-LEEEE SHIT!”

  A whole group of them lift me up in the air and start running.

  I don’t know what else to do at this point but laugh. “Jesseeeeee,” I yell, turning around on my stomach with my arms extended, reaching for him.

  He smiles at me, then with one whoosh of his sword, he connects with the enemy sword and that guy falls down to the deck and starts acting out a whole fake death scene.

  Meanwhile, I’m set back down on my feet in front of the plank.

  They’re not serious, right? I laugh at them.

  But then one of them starts dragging me out over the water. This is when I notice the crowd again. Because they go wild and start chanting things like, “Throw her over!” and “Jump! Jump! Jump!”

  I look down at the water beneath me, struggling to stay as close to the ship’s deck as I possibly can.

  It kinda feels real. Like this bushy-beard head pirate guy really might throw me over.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head at him. “Nope. I’m not jumping! I’m getting married!”

  He just grins at me. And… is that a gold tooth?

  Suddenly a parrot attacks him, landing on his head and flapping wildly. I squeal. The crowd cheers, on my side again.

  Then Jesse is here, pulling me back onto the ship’s deck and wrapping his arms around me. “Emma,” he says, pulling me into a tight hug.

  I look up at him and smile. “Best wedding ever!”

  Then a whole bunch of flames start shooting up behind the ship and the battle is on! We just stand and watch the rest of the show, every now and then scrambling out of the way of the performers as they sing and dance.

  But then… then we’re being pulled up a flight of stairs and everyone is waving goodbye.

  “Wait!” I yell to Jesse. “We didn’t get married yet!”

  “Hey!” Jesse yells. But we’re tugged and pulled backstage and then everyone is high-fiving and shouting excitedly.

  “Hey,” Jesse yells again. “What about the wedding?”

  “Oh,” one of the head pirates says. “That happens in the chapel.”

  “But…” I look back at the stage door that leads outside. “The ship!”

  “Sorry,” one of the sirens says. “No weddings on the ship.”

  “Then what was this whole show?” Jesse asks. “And the couple who were here before?”

  “Oh, that was Jake and Cynthia,” the pirate says. “They work here.”

  “What?” Jesse and I both exclaim.

  “Yeah,” the siren says. “This is the Save the Beauty Show. They’re the stars.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how much you paid to take their places, but that was the most fun I’ve had doing this show in years. Congrats!”

  And then everyone is walking off.

  I look at Jesse and pout. “We’re not even married!”

  He looks down at his watch. “Shit. And it’s eleven twenty! We’re late.” He pats his pants, looking for his phone. “Shit.”

  “Do not tell me you dropped your phone during the sword fight!”

  “I did. It’s not here. I don’t even have my wallet. I knew these pants were too baggy. Where’s yours?”

  “In my purse”—I whirl around, looking for the way back to the dressing room I was in—“back in the dressing room.”

  “Let’s go find it. Maybe the crew is still waiting for us. We can call them and let them know we’re on our way.”

  “But we’re not even married!”

  He takes my hand and tugs me along, in search of the dressing rooms. “Maybe the captain can marry us on the flight back? That’s a thing, right?”

  “Maybe? I don’t know. But we cannot go back to Key West until we’re married! That defeats the whole purpose of the trip.”

  “We’ll figure it out. But we have to go. Now! We’re going to miss Christmas Eve dinner!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  When we finally find the dressing rooms again, Emma’s purse is gone and the clock on the wall says it’s now eleven thirty-seven.

  There’s no sign of Steve, or Clarence, or Fingers—anywhere.

  Emma is pouting about the purse, and the wedding—or lack thereof—and telling me her boots are too small and she can’t run. So I help her wobble her way down to the front desk of the hotel and I’m just about to ask the concierge if I can use their phone to call—someone. I don’t even have the number for the fucking charter service because Miles set that up and all the info was in my little black folder—also now missing—when a woman steps in front of us.

  “Emma and Jesse?” she asks.

  “Yes?” I say. She’s tall, thin, and wearing a dark blue pantsuit with a name tag that says, ‘Fingers’ Fantasy Weddings. Hello, my name is Jessica.’ I stop and say, “Oh, thank God! We need to get to the airport right now!”

  “I hope you brought the Fingermobile,” Emma sa
ys. “Because I refuse to run to the airport in these boots!”

  “I’m on it,” Jessica says. “Follow me. And yes, Miss Dumas. We have the van ready to take you to the airport.”

  “Whew,” I say, glancing at Emma. “We’re gonna make it. And don’t worry. We will be married before we get home, babe. I promise!”

  Everyone is staring at us when we walk out to the valet area and head towards the purple van. And then I realize we’re still wearing our pirate clothes. I feel more than a little ridiculous in my puffy shirt, but fuck it. Two seconds later we’re climbing into the back of the van and the crazy world of Treasure Island disappears when Jessica slides the door shut.

  I lean back in the couch, still holding Emma’s hand. Then we look at each other and laugh.

  “Did that really just happen?” She giggles.

  “I think it did. I’m not sure. I was so confused, I barely remember anything.”

  “I remember your face when you were swinging towards me on that rope and then went sailing by.”

  I laugh. Loudly. “I thought I was gonna die like six times!”

  “Only six?”

  “Seriously, that was fun though, right?”

  “Pretty fuckin’ fun, Mr. Boston! Except—”

  “I know.” I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss it. “We’re not married yet. But I’m pretty sure the pilot can marry us on the plane. I really do think that’s a thing.”

  “I hope so. Even if we didn’t get married for real on the rollercoaster or the pirate ship, it was a pretty fun morning.”

  It actually was.

  “I’m sad that we’re going to miss the last wedding though. I think that was the real one that counts. And I wanted the dress.”

  “And the cake,” I add. “I’m so hungry right now.”

  “I think you just burned like two thousand calories swinging on those ropes.”