Mister Moneybags Read online Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Chick Lit, Contemporary, Erotic, Funny, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
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I turned to Bandit who was sitting beside me watching Clement whittle away. “That’s genius, right? Show her I’m putting in the effort. It’s heartfelt and original at the same time.”

“Ruff!”

I typed in: how to whittle a goat.

Unfortunately, there weren’t any videos fitting my exact specifications. I randomly clicked on the first clip that came up in my search.

It was some guy with an Australian accent holding a chubby baby girl. There was an actual goat sitting next to them.

“Come on, Bree, say Dada.”

Every time the man would say the word, “Dada,” the goat would let out a long “Baa.”

The baby would just let out a belly laugh each time the goat made a sound.

“Say Dada.”

The goat responded, “Baa.”

Giggle.

“Say Dada…Dada,” the man repeated.

“Baa.”

Giggle. Giggle.

What in the ever-living fuck was I watching?

The man turned to the goat. “Mate, can you stop for a bit? She won’t say it if you keep making her laugh.”

“Baa!”

Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.

The video ended. I immediately hit replay. It was addictive, and dare I say, my mouth hurt from smiling.

Turning to Bandit, I said, “Imagine that? Talking to a pet like a human being and expecting it to understand?”

“Ruff!”

The title of the video was “Pixy and Bree Say Dada.”

“This is so ridiculous,” I said, discreetly bookmarking the video. This guy, Chance Bateman, had an entire YouTube channel featuring various videos of his two children and the goat. These would come in handy someday when I wanted reassurance that I wasn’t the only person in this world off my fucking rocker. Fuck it. I subscribed to the channel.

Even though I’d vowed not to call Bianca, that didn’t mean I couldn’t pull some tricks that would make it impossible for her to resist contacting me. When the phone rang, I suspected it might be her.

I picked up. “Bianca…I—”

“You are out of your mind.” She sniffled. She was either laughing or crying. She was laughing.

“You’re laughing, though.”

“Dex Truitt…I may have to edit the article to include a disclaimer at the end noting that you have totally lost your marbles.”

“Yes, but you’re laughing.”

“How did you even get it into my apartment?”

“Let’s just say your maintenance guy is going to have a really nice Christmas this year.”

“It scared the living daylights out of me. I thought it was a real person, that someone had broken into my apartment and was readying to kill me.”

“You’re laughing, though!” I repeated again.

“I am,” she conceded. “You are totally nuts.”

I’d purchased the Liza Minnelli statue from the owner of Jay’s fake apartment and decided to have it transported to Bianca’s. I’d asked him to set it up in a way that she’d see it the second she walked in the door. Making light of crazy Jay’s antics was definitely a risk, but I did it in the hopes that she could eventually learn to look back at that time with humor.

“Well, now you have to figure out a way to rid my apartment of the mothball smell from that damn place.”

I’d been laughing before, but now I was laughing even harder.

“I’ll send for it tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Dexter.”

“Goodbye, Bianca.”

After I hung up, I looked at Bandit and smiled victoriously. “She loved it.”

On Sunday, I found myself at The Brooklyn Flea. Some people had drug dealers; I had a wood dealer. Coming upon the tent with the sign that read Jelani’s Kenyan Krafts, I walked over to the familiar vendor.

“Hi, I bought a wooden billy goat off of you some time ago. I’m not sure if you remember.”

Still wearing the brightly colored hat from last time, the old man looked me up and down. “Yes. I do remember you,” he said in a strong African accent. “Are you interested in something else?”

“Actually, I need to ask you a strange favor.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve tried everything online and nothing seems to be working. I need to learn how to whittle and was wondering if I could pay you to teach me.”

He bent his head back in laughter. “It took me years to learn how to do this, been perfecting my craft since I was a little boy growing up in Kenya.”

“I can imagine that doing it as well as you do would take years, but I’m just really looking to be able to carve something not even half as good without slicing my fingers off. Even if it looks pathetic, as long as it’s recognizable, that will do.”

“Boy, why on Earth would you want to even bother?” He squinted at me. “Is this about that woman?”

“You’re a smart man, Jelani.”

“Ah. That makes more sense.”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy. When I bought that goat from you, I told her I had made it myself. But she eventually figured out the truth. I regret ever lying to her and was hoping to prove how sorry I am by actually showing a real effort to make her something similar. Basically, I’m desperate, very close to losing the only woman I’ve ever had true feelings for. I’d do or pay just about anything for your expertise.”



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