Page 26 of The Holiday Fakers
“Okay, when will you get here?”
“If we only take quick pee breaks, we should hopefully arrive by five thirty. We’ll pop in briefly to see Mom and Dad, then check into the Hideaway Hotel. It’ll just be us and my folks for dinner, so come on over and say hello.”
“Will do. I’ll pop by around six.”
“Perfect. I’d better get going.”
“Sure, and one other thing …”
“Yeah?”
“I give it three days before you’re banging.”
“Mia!” I cry, but she’s already hung up.
I quickly take care of business, then head back outside to where Brody is waiting in the car for me.
“I forgot to say hi to Mia from you,” I tell him as he starts the engine and pulls away. “But she says she’s going to help us. She’ll keep Marv in line and take the photos to sell to the press. She’s a photographer, so they’ll be good.”
He nods, then inclines his head toward the back of the car. “There’s food from a deli behind your seat.”
“Ooh! What did you get?” I lean around and bring the bags to the front.
“No idea. I didn’t have time to look.”
On top of one of the bags is a handwritten menu on a gilt-edged card.
“A selection of charcuterie and meats, including Wagyu roast beef, prosciutto di Parma, French duck rillettes, smoked organic chicken, and truffle salami from Seville. Cheese: Cave-aged Swiss Gouda, Roquefort, twenty-four-month-old Manchego, and limited edition Ossau Iraty. Freshly baked baguette, San Francisco sourdough rolls, Parmesan lavash crackers, and raw, cultured butter.”
Holy shit.
“Accompaniments, truffle honey, whole-grain Dijon mustard, cornichons, and fig and walnut jam. Salads and sides: lobster salad, deviled eggs with Osetra caviar, and Peppadew peppers filled with whipped ricotta and prosciutto.”
I turn the card over.
“Desserts: éclairs covered in Valrhona dark chocolate and filled with Madagascan vanilla bean cream, assorted macarons, and mini-Basque cheesecakes. To drink: a half bottle of Dom Pérignon and a half bottle of aged, biodynamic Bordeaux. San Pellegrino sparkling water, Badoit still water, organic cold brew coffee, and freshly squeezed blood orange juice.”
“Is that okay?” Brody asks.
“Um, no. Unfortunately, I’m a teetotal, sugar-free, grain-free, gluten-free, lactose-intolerant vegan …”
CHAPTER 5
BRODY
Well, fuck.
I thought I couldn’t go wrong, leaving my credit card with the deli owner and telling him to go to town. I wanted to impress Piper, but I never thought to check what she could or couldn’t eat.
And what the hell do I do now? Turn around and see if Starbucks has anything that’ll do?
My eyes stay on the road ahead as I merge back onto I-95 heading north, but at the edge of my vision, Piper’s head is bent and her shoulders are shaking.
Shit.
“We can go back. See what we can find,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry. I should have run it by you first.”
She makes this weird noise, halfway between a sob and a shriek, and panic stabs me in the gut. Is her blood sugar crashing? What the hell does an everything-intolerant vegan even eat? Cardboard? Air?
