Page 100 of No Funny Business


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I end the call and give Nick a long face. “I think it’s time to go.”

“Okay, we’ll finish this later. Whose room are we in?”

I survey the hotel room and don’t spot my chunky marshmallow of a suitcase so I say, “Yours. I’ll meet you in twenty minutes.” I give him one last kiss, then jump out of bed and head across the hall to my room with my pants unbuttoned and my top inside out.

After a speedy shower, I throw all my things in my luggage, then slip on a fresh pair of jeans and Nick’s tour shirt for the drive.

Buh-bye, Vegas!

Out in the hall, Nick meets me with two go-cups of coffee. “Nice shirt.”

I pull at the fabric. “Oh, this old thing?”

Nick grabs me by the waist and I fall into his arms again. If we keep this up, we’ll never make my audition. Right as his lips graze mine, he pulls away. “Shit. I forgot we left the Jeep at the chapel last night.”

I check my watch. “It’s fine. We’ll grab a cab and be there in no time.”

Within five minutes, Nick and I secure a taxi and head up the highway toward the Elvis Chapel. I begin humming “Chapel of Love,” singing, “Going to the chapel and I’m gonna be on late-night TV.” Nick snickers then joins in with, “You’re gonna be on late-night TV!”

When we pull up to the chapel, the cab driver congratulates us on our upcoming nuptials. This is the part where we typically flinch and make it clear that we’re not a couple. We’re not married. We’re not together. Instead, we share a smile and say, “Thank you.”

We walk around the building to the main parking lot, me dragging my elephant-sized case across the asphalt. The lot is practically desolate with the exception of triplet limos—one black, one pink, and one white. Something’s missing.

“Where’s the Jeep?”

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