It Wasn't Me - Lani Lynn Vale Page 0,16

they’d doubled their cab fair price in all that time.

And Jonah, apparently, was on the same page as me seeing as he started growling from his seat beside me.

“I don’t see a meter,” Jonah argued. “Normally there’s one that the client in the back can see. I don’t even see one up front with you. How do you know what the price is?”

“The price is the price,” the middle-aged man said. “Now pay up or I’m calling the cops.”

Jonah snorted. “I’ll give you thirty, and you can go ahead and call the cops all you want. Do you want to take a photo of my license? That way you can tell the cops who I am, and have my picture for them to see, that way they can get in touch with me and I can tell them that you’re scamming your riders.”

The man’s jaw tightened, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said as he turned. “I would like a picture of it.”

Jonah pulled it out and pressed it up against the glass.

“There,” he said. “Do you want my number, too? I have an email as well.”

The guy’s eyes narrowed.

“I don’t have to deal with this shit,” he hissed. “Ungrateful tourists like you. The price is sixty-two fifty. Either pay it or get out of my cab and I’ll call the cops.”

Jonah pulled out thirty-five dollars, tossed it on the seat of the cab, then dropped a business card on the seat.

“Left you a card back here,” Jonah said as he quickly slid out of the cab, grabbing my hand and helping me out.

Luckily I had the wherewithal to grab my bag as I was exiting because before both of my feet had even hit the pavement, the cab driver was peeling away from the curb with an angry ‘fuck you’ thrown Jonah’s way.

“You really have a habit of pissing people off,” I mused as I shouldered my bag.

Jonah grunted and gestured toward one of the bellhops that was waiting to help people with luggage.

“We’re good, thanks, man,” Jonah said his way.

The bellhop nodded and got the door for us, eliciting a ‘thank you’ from me and a ‘thanks again’ from Jonah.

We were inside the large lobby when Jonah said, “Guy was scamming us. I knew as soon as I got in and didn’t see the meter what he was going to try to do. Fucker.”

“You’ve had that happen before?” I asked curiously.

He shook his head and said, “No. I’ve heard about it, but not actually had it happen to me. You remember anything about the guy’s name?”

I thought back to the hastily scribbled name written on masking tape that was stuck to the dash.

“Henry Winkle.”

“Henry Winkle?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” I said. “It was written in block lettering and I thought it was a cute name.”

He grunted something and gestured to the lady smiling wide at us—or at least at Jonah.

“Go get us checked in,” he ordered. “I’m going to call this in to a buddy that’s on LVPD.”

I did as he asked, smiling at the lady whose smile had dimmed upon seeing that Jonah hadn’t followed me.

“Can I help you?” she asked casually.

I barely contained the eye roll.

“Yes, ma’am.” I smiled. “I’m here to check my fiancé and me in.”

I had no idea why I’d said ‘fiancé.’

Honestly, it was likely due to the fact that she would’ve given much better service to Jonah.

I grinned when her eyes narrowed.

“Ohhh!” the woman that was next to the one that I was working with clapped. “You’re getting married?”

What did I say now?

“Uhhh, yes?”

“We have a honeymoon suite!” she cried out. “You’ll just love it! And it’s the same price as the one that you have right now!”

And before I could stop her or say anything differently, the bouncy, overly excited woman was pushing my sneering attendant to the side and typing away at her computer.

Moments after that, she was doing a shimmy shake.

“I was able to get you the executive honeymoon suite!” she cried out. “Aces!”

I bit my lip, unable to stop myself from smiling at her excitement.

“What’s the executive honeymoon suite?” Jonah drawled as he walked up long moments into the shit show.

“It’s even better than the room y’all were going to get!” she promised. “It’s so awesome! I’ve always wanted to stay in it, but you really do have to have a fiancé or they won’t let you stay there.”

“We’re really sticking with this ‘fiancé’ thing?” he teased quietly in my ear.

I huffed.

“That woman was staring at you like a shark.