Free Shopping for a CEO's Fiancee by Julia Kent

planting one palm on the doorjamb, stopping her from exiting. Water from my legs drips on her shoes. 
    “Define that.”
    “Define what?”
    “What did we ask of you last night?”
    Her eyes ping between me and Amanda, who has her back turned to us, her arms like noodles as she tries to dress.
    Silence.
    “Damn it, Marie, are we married to each other?”
    Marie’s eyes narrow, then soften, telescoping as she focuses on my face, then on Amanda, over my shoulder.
    “Do you want to be?”
    “That’s not the question!” Amanda shrieks, turning around, her shirt buttons in a crooked line between her breasts. “What did you do with those marriage licenses, Marie? Were they real?”
    “Oh, yes. We all went down to the Regional Justice Center downtown and you pulled them.” Marie has sidestepped the real question here, and I give her just enough rope to hang herself. Intuition plays a major role in business, and right now she’s setting off every alarm bell inside me. But for what reason?
    “We really did have a marriage license made up?” Amanda squeaks, pointing between us.
    “Yes.”
    Marie’s not the one-word-answer type. I approach her slowly, chin down, eyes up, sending every intimidating signal I can.
    “Start from the beginning.”
    “What?”
    “Tell us exactly what happened last night, from beginning to end.”
    “I don’t have time! Jason’s waiting for me back in our room. Our flight leaves in less than an hour. Carol and the boys are already boarding!”
    “Are you taking the Anterdec jet?”
    “Yes.”
    I reach for the phone. “Easy. I’ll have them hold it.”
    “But Jason needs to get to work tonight! So does Carol! And Jeffrey and Tyler have missed school.”
    I smile.
    Leverage. Ah. That’s so much better.
    She sees it, too, her shoulders slumping, her breath let go in a long sigh. “Fine. I confess.”
    “You did file the marriage licenses?” Amanda says with a groan.
    Tears fill Marie’s overdone eyes. She palms away one rolling drop. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Are we married to each other?” I ask, pointing to Amanda.
    Marie shakes her head.
    “Shit!” The word’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
    “Am I married to Josh?” Amanda asks.
    Marie shakes her head.
    Amanda fist bumps me, then freezes. “Is Andrew married to...Josh?”
    Marie shakes her head. She’s being way, way too quiet.
    “Am I married to Rainbow Brite?” I ask.
    Marie shakes her head.
    “Marie, who is married to whom?” I ask tightly.
    Her hands cover her eyes and she says, “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” over and over, rocking against the bamboo-covered wall.
    Amanda and I exchange a look. I convey, through a single glare and a sudden eye tic, the message that dragging the truth out of Marie is Amanda’s territory.
    “Marie, what did you do?” she asks.
    “It’s what I didn’t do! You clearly wanted me to file those marriage licenses, but it was late and I was tired, and I’m so sorry!” She reaches into her enormous purse and pulls out a sheaf of thick papers, mangled and stained with reddish-purple wine rings.
    I snatch them up, rifling through them. I learn something new.
    When drunk on entheogenic wine, I spell my name Ayndrough . That’s my handwriting. No denying it.
    Amanda correctly spelled her entire name, but saw fit to draw pictures of butterflies with enormous, anatomically-correct penises and balls attached.
    “The state of Nevada issued these?”
    We have licenses for:
     
    Amanda and Ayndrough
    Josh and Geordi
    Amanda and Charles Kulls
    Josh and Ayndrough
    Geordi and Josh
    Josh and David Gandy
     
    “Pfft. Right. Like David Gandy would ever marry him ,” Amanda says.
    I laugh.
    “Because if anyone’s marrying David Gandy, it’s me.”
    I stop laughing.
    “I’m so sorry!” Marie cries.
    “Why are you sorry?” Amanda asks.
    “Because I didn’t file any of these!”
    I frown at her, completely stymied. “You think we’re upset at you for not filing these