Page 9 of Meet Jon, the Billionaire

“I know, but… I just hate to see some big box chain stores move into that spot.” My face twisted up into a frown. “Do you know who I found out is also making a bid for that lot?”

“Who?”

“Acme Bread.”

“Acme?” He frowned. “That’s like supermarket bread, though.”

“Yes, but they also have a chain of bakeries, or to be more precise they took over Danish Hut several years back and turned the stores into their own chain.”

“They can’t be anything close to what we have to offer.”

“No, it’s all prefabricated, basic with a capital B staples. Donuts, bear claws, Danishes, and two varieties of cookies. That’s not the point, though. We’re not worried about them becoming competition so much as we want to keep the massive corporations out of our neighborhood.”

I looked him square in the eye. “Don’t you see, Pedro? This is bigger than us, bigger than the bakery even. It’s about a fight for survival to keep our neighborhood out of corporate clutches. Now tell me again that I’m being too critical of this offering?”

I gestured at the table. Pedro considered it for a long moment and sighed.

“I guess I could bake another batch of chocolate chip—”

“Thank you!”

Yeah, that was why we were there so late. But when we were done, we had some great-looking food. I was tempted to try some, but I knew that I had to resist.

Well, okay, I did have an éclair, and Pedro helped himself to a mini pecan pie, but—shhh!—don’t tell anyone.

The next day I woke up with the sun shining in my face—annoyingly so—and my evil cat Tickled Pink standing on my chest demanding her victuals. I opened my eyes and stared into the pink slitted gaze of doom. Pink is technically my aunt’s cat, but after the surgery she was staying with me.

“Okay, okay, I’ll feed you,” I said. “Just don’t swallow my soul or anything.”

The cat yowled, and it was like the ghost of Jack the Ripper raking his bloody nails across a chalkboard used by Anton Lavey when he wrote the Satanic Bible. I swear hearing it took a year off my life.

“I said okay!”

I sidled out from under the cat and fed her the expensive soft food with little bits of real shrimp Aunt Petunia insisted upon. While the demon master sated her hunger, I went and got in the shower, even though I knew I would need a second one after the tournament. It was likely to be warm that day.

I finished my shower, ate a quick breakfast, and put on my tennis gear. My racket felt awkward tucked under my arm, and I prayed again that I wouldn’t embarrass myself on the court of the charity tournament.

I drove out of the city to the Country Club. The hedgerows marking the entrance were flanked by big concrete statues of roaring lions. Nice touch, that. I wondered if I could get a roaring lion for the bakery and decided it would take up too much room… unless I won the bid for the corner lot. Then, maybe…

I pulled in the visitor lot and spied the Breadcetera van parked near the main clubhouse’s rear entrance. Pedro’s cousin Chui was in the process of unloading the rolling racks of goodies with exquisite care. He knew as well as I did how crucial this whole scheme was. He wasn’t quite as lackadaisical as Pedro when it came to expanding the business.

I searched for a parking space, and found the lot packed pretty full. It turned out that the Telly Savalas Memorial Charity Mixed Doubles tournament was a big deal. On my third trip around the lot, I spied an empty space and gunned for it.

Only to have to stomp on my brakes so hard I was afraid the engine would shoot out the grill of my car. There was something laying in the empty parking space. At first I thought it was someone’s brown leather golf bag, but then it moved. I saw long, drooping ears, sad-looking brown eyes, and a wriggling black nose.

There was a dog sitting in the parking space.

I rolled down the window and stuck my head out. “Hey! Get out of the way! Go on, shoo!”

The dog just sat there, looking at me. I honked the horn, hoping to scare it, but the dog didn't move. When the horn ceased its warning blare, he tilted back his wrinkled head and bark-howled.

Barooooo!

“Yes, that’s very nice, now kindly get out of my way.”

“Sorry about that!”

I turned toward the sound of the voice. Have you ever heard a guy talk before you saw him, and you just knew he was a fucking daydream just based on how sexy his voice sounded? It was one of those kinds of moments. My eyes fell upon him and I think I stopped breathing for a minute.

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