CHAPTER ONE: THE BET
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Author: JustSkipIt "God! Mac, Slow down!" Tip's shouts could barely be heard over the roar of the engine as Mac shifted gears and careened around the corner. "You barely missed that little old lady and her shopping cart!" Given what it took to scare Tip, Mac might have taken some notice but she didn't. Instead she set her sights on the large white building gleaming in the sunlight at the end of the block. A valet booth stood out against the white marble of the Sunnydale Wilshire with its red velvet front and gold lettering. The space directly in front of the stand was empty as the hotel obviously strove to keep the guests's cars parked but easily accessible. Rather than slowing down she accelerated, never hitting the brake until she hit both the brake and steering wheel in a flurry of intentional movement, causing the car to skid, slide, and nearly slam into the parallel parking space in front of the valet stand. Mac was hardly unaware of the attention her entrance had made nor of the shocked, surprised, and even some fearful looks on the faces of the three young men at the valet stand or the few guests entering or leaving the hotel. She turned off the engine and smiled at her companion. "You know how I like to make an entrance." As soon as they had shaken off their astonishment, two of the valets had run up, opened the doors, and now extended their hands to the two women who stepped smoothly from the car. They both thanked the young men and directed them to have their luggage delivered to their rooms. They were filthy rich but they had also been raised with money and manners and they always thanked those who should be treated respectfully. The women's families had spent countless thousands of dollars on tutors, governesses, finishing school, and who knew what all else. They didn't even make it to the front desk but were greeted by a manager and personal assistant half-way across the lobby. "Ms Willingham. We're so glad to have you with us again. Your rooms are ready as your assistant requested. Lisa here will be happy to show you the rooms and get you anything else you might require. " Mac looked the young woman up and down much as an alligator might size up a wildebeest. "Thank you, Mr. Franklin. We'll be fine without the guide." She extended her hand and he handed her two key cards, also extending two for Tip. The two young women crossed the lobby to the glass-walled express elevator without another word nor a glance backwards and stepped inside. The elevator operator needed no instruction to take them to the penthouse and open the elevator doors. Once inside Mac's suite, Tip looked around. "You should have given them more than fifteen minutes notice that we were coming. There's no booze except what's in the honor bar and I'm not drinking from ½ oz. bottles." Mac threw the card keys onto the credenza and laughed. "You know how I like to make an entrance. And you also know that they'll have our booze here and in your rooms by the time we get back from the pool, Prudence." "You know I hate it when you call me that." "And you know that I like to bother you." Tip looked at the clock. "What time are you meeting with daddy-O?" Mac laughed. "I haven't heard yet. Let's go get something to eat and drink." She picked up her key card again and followed Tip out the door. "What about you? Do you have a meeting set-up?" Tip raised her eyebrow. "You mean with your dad? I'm sure he'll call me and want me there any minute. Hell, I'll probably get fired this time." She mimicked air quotes with her fingers as she said the word fired. Let's see. Since I've been on the clock, you've been expelled from two private high schools and three colleges." Mac laughed as they stepped from the elevator. "I don't think he'll fire you. Who else would watch me?" Tip shook her head. Mac, short for Maclay Bennet Territh Willingham, was also known as the sole heir to the Sunnyland Farms corporation - makers of jellies, jams, sauces, wine, boxed food, and owners of countless other subsidiaries. Although at only 48, there was no guarantee that her father James Willingham wouldn't remarry and have more children, he was rarely seen in public and did not socialize since the tragic death of his oldest daughter and wife when their private plane crashed 14 years earlier. Mac had been only seven at the time and had been called to come home from boarding school. She'd spent six months virtually locked in her room. Then one day, she had emerged announcing (shockingly maturely for an eight year old) that she didn't wish to spend another night in the family mansion. Her father had moved the two of them into the very hotel she'd so recently nearly slammed with her convertible. As the family home was partially open to the public wishing to see the family home of the Sunnyland Founder, they both found the hotel to be quieter and more affording of privacy. As alluded to by her supposed chaperone and confirmed best friend, Mac had still managed to find a long list of trouble in her short life. Tip, so called as a compromise after declaring her hatred for her given name, was the daughter of one of the Sunnyland vice presidents. Tellson Mercury was one of the only men in the world James Willingham liked and respected. The two girls had been raised almost as sisters. While it was clear that Tip's penchant for finding trouble was no less than Mac's, she had a lower profile and frequently intentionally drew attention toward herself to save her friend and the Willinghams the embarrassment of an "heiress gone bad" situation. It had been a few years since the short-lived fight that ensued when Mac realized her "friend" was an employee, a very well paid employee, of Sunnyland Farms with the title of "Media Relations Specialist." The two girls agreed on a café down the street and waved off the valet when he attempted to run for Mac's car, instead opting to walk. They were led immediately to a table with a view of the park and the sidewalk but enough shade to be comfortable. "So what are we going to do, Mac?" Tip took a sip of her martini and offered her friend the olives. Mac shrugged. "I'm kind of bored of school." "And you've been kicked out of all the schools you were accepted at." Mac stuck out her tongue at her friend before sipping her drink. "That's only because I only applied at three schools. You know I could be accepted at more in a heartbeat." Tip held up her hand rubbing together the thumb and forefinger. "Or you can make a donation to the building fund and voila, we're enrolled." The salads both women had ordered were delivered and each took the opportunity to order another drink and bottled waters. "You could go to work for Jimmy-poo." "Like you." Mac laughed. "Filing? Answering phones? Maybe stomping grapes into wine?" "Well, what do you want to do then?" Mac thought about it. "You know, I don't know but I want a challenge. Everything seems so easy. I want a car, I get it. I want to get into school, I do. I want a woman, the next thing I know she's in my bed naked except for the whipped cream." Tip picked up a napkin and rubbed her eyes. "Now they're going to make a hallmark movie about your plight. Poor g-zillionaire Maclay four names Willingham can't find a woman who won't sleep with her." "Do you know Virginia actually asked me if I had any spare change and complained that she only drove a BMW?" Tip laughed as she continued eating her salad. "And I heard she wasn't all that virginal in spite of the name." Mac finished her salad and leaned back in her chair. "It's not a problem, per se, but the new ones are so… " "New?" "I was going to say fresh but new, fresh, ready to please. Any of those will work." Mac took long drink on her water bottle as the waiter took their plates and drifted away. "What's the smirk for?" "Was I smirking?" Mac fixed her friend with a glare. "It was like when a look grows up, if it eats its Wheaties, it might hope to become a smirk like that. " "Ok, so maybe it was like a smirk." Mac drummed her fingers on the table as she waited. "I was just thinking, here you are with time to kill and complaining about how things are so easy, women are so easy, blah blah blah. I bet there are a few women in this town, besides me, who don't want to sleep with you." "Name one." Tip smiled again. "Why don't we make it interesting? I win you give me your car." Mac raised her eyebrows. "And if I win?" "Well, you have everything you could possibly want." Mac smiled again. "If I win, you tell my dad you quit and change your phone number." "Ok. Anything else?" Mac considered it. "I can't think of anything else. But it's going to be fun when you have to admit that you lost." Tip snorted at the suggestion. "I'm assuming you're going to pick the girl? And how long do I have?" Tip glanced at her IPhone and considered. "How about one week? And, yes, I get to pick the girl." Mac smiled smugly. "Any girl. They're all the same to me." "Ok," Tip agreed. "One week from now. So how about Marian the Librarian over there?" Mac followed the line of Tip's finger to a slight red-headed woman who certainly did bear a resemblance to some librarian, if not Marian. She carried a backpack which was either loaded down with books or bricks and looked in danger of overbalancing her onto her butt at any moment. In one hand she held a reusable coffee cup and in the other she held a laptop computer. In attempting to read something on the screen and hit the occasional key without spilling said coffee cup she kept almost walking into bushes, trees, light poles, and other pedestrians in spite of their efforts to avoid her and her path. Her movements only ceased when she reached the stairs to none other than the Sunnydale library and unceremoniously sat on the bottom step to finish the coffee without moving her gaze from the computer. When she had finished the coffee, she pulled an apple from her bag, followed by a Swiss army knife which she used to meticulous quarter and eat the apple. "Oh God, Mac. She's adorable." "Suddenly I'm reminded of Guys and Dolls: ‘Daddy, I've got cider in my ear.'" |
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