Page 43 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

“This is sort of like when El Santo had to hide from Blue Demon in the Fiesta.”

“Just when I think you can’t get any sexier, you go and say something like that.” She wriggled her hips against me once more.

The cop walked back up the street, shaking his head at the weirdos in body paint. I relaxed, and after that Megan and I really embraced our inner tigers.

Our mood proved infectious, and soon enough the director was shouting with glee at the overall performance.

After the photoshoot, Megan and I joined the line of people waiting to use the portable showers beside the changing room tent. A lot of people came up to us and asked for a photo. The cop came around several more times but never recognized us at all. On the fourth time around, Megan and I barely noticed.

“Unfortunately, he’s not going to give up,” Megan lamented. “I should probably go turn myself in after we get clean.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

“Mason, you’re sweet to defend me, but I did spray paint a cop in the face.”

“Not without provocation. The fact of the matter is, the cop came onto my property without a warrant and harassed a work crew I had hired.” I shrugged. “Don’t worry. I play golf with the Assistant District Attorney’s husband. I can solve this quandary with a few phone calls.”

That seemed to reassure her, somewhat. The truth was, I wasn’t about to let her go down for spray painting the cop’s face. That cop was way out of line, and anyway, if she hadn’t painted his face—a humiliating but ultimately harmless act—I would have busted him in the chop. And then someone WOULD be sitting in jail.

But spray paint… spray paint I could probably convince them to sweep under the rug. Thank goodness I had the microphones installed in the lobby. I remember Stan the Man telling me it was an unnecessary expense.

Who’s laughing now, Timmy?

We ducked into a shower stall together, even though that was against the rules. I figured the gods of Karma would let us get away with it.

While I had obviously lascivious intentions to fool around with her in the shower, the truth was it really took a second person to scrub all that body paint off.

“Those idiots should have used latex. It just peels right off.”

“You sound like someone who’s worn latex before,” I said, cocking my eyebrow.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.” She leaned forward and kissed me, and I forgot all about cops and paint and anything else for that matter.

Chapter Eighteen

Mason

I had the limo meet us at the edge of the street fair, fearing the angry policeman might still be about. I made certain to check, and then double-checked the street before we quickly dashed to the door and got into the relative safety inside.

“Whew, what a ride,” Megan said with a laugh. She pulled up photos of us in the throng of painted people and grinned. “You can barely even tell that we’re in here. In fact, no one would believe it if we told them.”

“Probably not. But we’ll always know the truth.”

“Do you want me to send them to you?”

“Yes, please.” I extracted my own phone from my back pocket. I scrolled through my contacts list until I came across George South.

“What are you doing?” Megan asked.

“I’m making that phone call I talked about earlier.”

“Oh…” her lips drew into a tight line, and she swallowed hard. “I see. You’re not going to wind up in trouble because of this, are you?”

“I should hardly think so. In fact, doing this will probably get us out of any potential trouble we might be in.”

I pressed the call button and waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Mason, my man,” answered a wizened but still virile voice. “Why are you calling me today? Not trying to back out of getting your ass kicked on Sunday, I hope.”

---