We kissed again, deeply and passionately. I felt Marty’s hand around the back of my neck, and I wanted to hold him tight. As the show began and objects came flying at us in 3-D, we continued making out, grabbing at the visual effects before us. I’d never thought I’d enjoy the PhilharMagic 3-D so much.

Somehow I knew Marty was a guy I could depend on. He would protect me, and since he had taken me to Disney World, I knew he just wanted to make me happy. Who could ask for anything more?

Chapter 17

I thought the salesman was going to kiss Marty when we dropped off the Bentley. He darted out of the showroom and met us in the parking lot.

The salesman blurted out, “I thought you’d—”

Marty was back in character as the annoyed rich guy and said in a sharp tone, “What? You thought we’d what?”

The salesman stammered and said, “F-forgotten us. You just surprised me by keeping the car a little extra. You must have really loved it.” He was standing in front of us, almost hopping in place with excitement, like a kid about to open a Christmas present. “What do you think? Will you pull the trigger on it? I can have everything ready for you to sign in just a few minutes.”

He was following along in the parking lot as Marty walked toward the back where his car was parked. The salesman didn’t even seem to realize he was being led away from his office.

Marty waited until we were right next to his car so we could enjoy the look on the salesman’s face when he opened the door of his beat-up BMW. The salesman’s expression said it all.

As Marty and I slipped into the car, Marty said, “Think I’ll stay with my Beemer for now.”

We giggled about it all the way back to Palm Beach.

The night ahead of us ended up being one of the best endings to one of the best weekends of my life. I tried another one of Marty’s crazy little pills, and this time we didn’t wait for Allie to show up. I called her. And she brought a friend. A tall, very young, and really hot Czech bartender from Café Boulud, the restaurant right in the hotel. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and he eagerly accepted one of Marty’s homemade Ecstasy tabs. I couldn’t even pronounce his name, which didn’t sound like it had any vowels in it, and his accent was thicker than Allie’s. But he wasn’t here to talk.

Before I knew it, we had our own disco going, with my speakers blaring out dance songs from the eighties on Pandora. We left the music on as each couple started to get more intimate and clothes started to fly onto the floor.

The young bartender looked like he belonged in a Tommy Hilfiger ad, with his flat stomach and ripple of muscles that popped perfectly against his tightie-whities.