Marty was very casual as he said, “My wife and I are in the market for a new car, and I thought it was time to seriously consider a Bentley. Brennan Moore recommended you guys.”

That line shocked me, but it had the desired effect on the salesman.

“I sold Brennan his Mulsanne, just like the one sitting right here.” He patted the hood of the car like it was a racehorse. “Brennan is a great guy, and I’m so happy he recommended us.”

The salesman looked at me for some kind of response, but all I could do was mumble, “Yeah, yeah, he’s the best.”

Marty said, “We see him over on the island quite a bit, and I like the look of his new car. But we usually don’t go for long drives.”

The whole time, I marveled at Marty’s inventive deviousness. I still had no idea what this game was.

Marty said to the salesman, “Although we’ve considered a Flying Spur, we’re seriously looking at a Mercedes across the street at Mercedes-Benz of Palm Beach. I just wanted to show her a couple of Bentleys.” Then he turned toward the door and took a few steps.

It was genius. I had never seen anything like it. Immediately the salesman lunged for us, saying, “Wait, wait, you don’t want a German car on the island. Bentley is the only way to go.”

Marty was masterful. The salesman essentially begged us to take a Flying Spur for a test drive.

Marty remained aloof and said, “I’m not sure driving a few blocks in the car is gonna give me the confidence I need to buy it.”

The salesman said, “No problem. All I need is a little information, just your cell phone and maybe your driver’s license, and you can take it home overnight and really get a feel for it. We’ll even come by and pick it up if you don’t like it, or we can complete the paperwork right at your house.”

Even though the salesman was a little aggressive, I felt sorry for him. He was standing in front of us like a puppy waiting for a treat.

Marty hesitated and then gave him his cell number.

When the salesman said, “We just need a little bit more information,” Marty countered with “I don’t have time for paperwork.”

Then he looked at me and said, “Let’s go.” He turned like an impatient Palm Beacher would, and the salesman jumped up with the keys, telling us to just give them a call if we needed anything.

A few minutes later, after we had retrieved a few things from Marty’s BMW, we pulled out of the parking lot, but instead of turning east toward Palm Beach, Marty turned west on Okeechobee.

I said, “Where are we going now?”

A satisfied smile popped onto his face as he said, “You’ll find out.”

I loved this game. We held hands and chatted as he pulled onto the turnpike headed north. I didn’t ask any questions. I just enjoyed the ride as we took the turnpike farther north until Marty pulled off onto Osceola Parkway and then off again at an exit just south of Orlando. I had to fight the urge to ask questions, but when he pulled into the Four Seasons right outside Disney World, I couldn’t help but show my surprise. Who doesn’t want to visit Disney World? I had just told him how Brennan had promised but had never taken me. I threw my arms around Marty’s neck and planted a big kiss on his lips.