Page 48 of Meet Jon, the Billionaire

“Really?” I blurted. “He’s that good?”

“Well, we’ll see,” she said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Are you going to want in on the action? I never knew you were much for the ponies.”

“Just went to the races the other day, actually,” I said. “For the first time.”

“No shit?” She nodded as if impressed. “Did you like it?”

“I had a lot of fun, but mostly on account of who I was with.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack’s eyes gleamed. “Who were you with?”

There was no point in trying to hide anything from Jack. So I just told her the truth. “The bakery owner’s niece.”

“Jonathon!” She punched me in the arm. It kind of hurt, because she’s stronger than she looks and knows how to hit. Also, her top hat-wearing, cigarette smoking skull ring. Ouch. “You fucking evil bastard! How do you sleep at night?”

“I didn’t sleep at all last night,” I admitted.

“Well, nice to know you’ve got a conscience in there somewhere.” She cleared her throat and held her palm out. I reached into the desk drawer and withdrew an envelope full of cash.

“I only have half of it on hand, but if you give me a minute I can have some more brought up from petty cash—”

“Nah, no problem, Tiger. I know you’re good for it.”

The money disappeared inside her coat and she tipped her hat to me. “Well, gotta go. Jack’s on the case. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”

I watched her leave, and then sat back in my seat and tried not to feel guilty. I didn’t succeed. Normally, I’d never wielded such a potent weapon as Jack against a competitor so small as Breadcetera. Desperate times called for desperate measures, however.

I’m not sure why I thought at the time that buying Breadcetera from Amy’s Aunt Petunia was going to save our relationship, but I’d convinced myself that it would. Exactly how, I didn’t know. Maybe I thought that I could buy the bakery, withdraw the bid, and then sign the ownership over to Amelia after Acme won the corner lot. Or maybe I figured that I could buy Breadcetera and let it have the corner lot, effectively turning it into a franchise of Acme Breads.

Whatever the case, I went back to work and tried to banish it from my mind, with limited success. I was halfway through the projections for one of our pharmaceutical companies when Jack called me back.

“Damn, Jack,” I said as a way of greeting. “That was fast, even for you.”

“Hey, you get what you paid for. You were a good sport about doubling my fee, so I figure the least I can do is slap an express on the gig. You’re not going to believe what I found out.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Well, as it turns out—…—to be a speakeasy.”

“What?” I grimaced. “Jack, you’re breaking up.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m about halfway through the Lincoln Tunnel. I hate Jersey but—…—where the action is—…—my drift.”

“Jack, you’re really breaking up. I heard the speakeasy part, but that’s hardly going to help.”

“Well, check this out and—…—think it’s worth—…—for.”

“What?”

“The sweet old lady isn’t so sweet, she paid off a health inspector to look the other way on a rat infestation some thirty years ago.”

I frowned. “That could be devastating to their reputation if it got out.”

“I know, right? That’s why I figured—…—my buddy Bruce—…—leaked to the press.”

“No!” I snapped. “Do NOT leak this to the press. Do not pull the trigger, Jack. Do you hear me? Don’t pull the trigger!”

“I heard you the first time, fuck—…—to decaf, I’m just saying. You’re really tense. Look, Tiger, I’ve got to bounce. I don’t want those Jersey cops—…—and wind up with a ticket for jawing on my cell phone. Laters.”

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