Page 41 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

I heard music, and the hum of lots of people in a crowd.

“What is it?”

“Street fair. Some of my artist buddies are throwing it. Great place to hide, and one of them might help us out if we can find them in the crowd.”

“Sounds good to me. Lead on.”

We came upon the fair, a milling throng of people slowly moving down the blocked-off street, perusing the food or merchandise stands, or swaying to the live music. Performance artists lined the sidewalk, everything from Mimes to Acrobats to Elvis impersonators.

I could tell that Megan felt right at home, and that made me relax.

I was just starting to enjoy the vibe when Megan groaned.

“They just don’t know when to quit, do they?”

She pointed at the cops. They hadn’t seen us yet, but it was next to inevitable that they would. The crowd was too thick for us to run without drawing a ton of attention to ourselves.

I glanced around and found a white canvas tent nearby. I couldn’t tell what kind of stand it was, food, or art, or music, and I didn’t care. I only saw one thing.

Shelter.

“Any port in a storm,” I said, tugging her toward the tent. I held up the bottom flap so she could crawl under, and then wriggled in myself. There was enough of a gap in the tent that we could look out. The cops soon appeared, asking around if anyone had seen us.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a while.” I didn’t bother whispering because the festival was so loud I could have shouted and the cops probably couldn’t have heard us.

“Yeah. I wonder what this place is?”

I took my first look around. Curiously, the only thing I saw were lots of duffel bags, some of them partially open and revealing clothing.

“Like a changing station for the performers? That would be my guess—”

The front flap of the tent opened up. A young woman entered, and both of us gaped. She wore a leather loincloth and paint, and not a thing else.

“What are you doing in here?” She demanded.

“Uh,” I said intelligently.

“Hurry up and get your clothes off. You’re not even painted yet! Come one, chop-chop, there's no time to waste.”

I looked at Megan for guidance. These were her people, after all.

“Any port in a storm,” she said, giving me a wink as she unzipped her dress.

Chapter Seventeen

Mason

“Um, you can’t be serious,” I puttered as Megan stepped out of her dress, now clad only in black bra and panties. “We should be trying to cover up, not expose ourselves more—pun fully intended.”

“Shut up and get naked.” She favored me with a grin. “What’s the one place a cop isn’t going to look for us? Naked and in the street.”

“But we don’t even know what kind of performance this is. What if they expect us to dance, or something?”

“You don’t know how to dance?”

“I’ve taken ballroom lessons as a way to schmooze clients.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to apply here. Just relax and go with the flow.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re in my world now, Mason. Would you want me to come to your boardroom and tell you how to behave?”

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