by E. M. Lilly
“Miss Mignon, is something wrong?” he asked with a false sincerity.
“I think you know exactly what’s wrong!”
He raised an eyebrow at that. “Do I?”
“You sent Derek here drunk to propose to me!”
The genie shrugged at that. “You made a wish and I did what I needed to see it carried out,” he said.
“I’m not accepting a drunk marriage proposal.”
“That’s your choice,” Jack said, his bemusement drying up quickly.
“My wish wasn’t for Derek to propose, but for us to be married.”
“I did what I was asked by you to do,” Jack stated stubbornly. “If you accepted his proposal you would’ve been married within the week. As far as I’m concerned, I granted the wish you asked for, and the fact that you short-circuited it is beyond my control.”
“And as far as I’m concerned, unless I’m married to Derek within a week, you have not granted my wish!”
The genie shook his head. “Miss Mignon, we’ll have to agree to disagree on this point—”
“I think it’s pretty simple,” Emily cut in, her frustration with Jack nearly choking off her voice. “You’ll either carry out my wish or you won’t. In this case it’s not even you distorting my wish. It’s you not even honoring it!”
Before Jack could utter another word, Emily said ‘good night’ to him in a shaking voice and turned on her heels so she could walk quickly away.
The next morning Emily stopped off at a newsstand and found pictures of herself in the Daily News, the Post and the Sun, all identifying her as the mystery woman with the English Bulldog that Derek had run off with earlier. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she saw the photos on the gossip pages, but at least none of them had her name. With her hands shaking, she checked two of the national tabloid newspapers, and they ran pictures of her also, with one of them offering a five thousand dollar reward for her name. Seeing that made the butterflies flutter all that more furiously in her stomach. The middle-aged, balding man working at the newsstand glared at her for thumbing through all the papers without buying any, but if he recognized her from the photos he didn’t show it.
At work other editors and staff came by her cubicle, all curious about a copy of the Daily News that was circulating around the office, but Emily remained tight-lipped about it as she felt herself feeling very self-conscious about being in the public eye like this. When she went to Mr. Pish’s office to deliver the report that she owed him, he was likewise tightlipped about it, not mentioning anything about the photo, Derek Cole, or the errand she needed to run the other day. Before lunch Sally called to ask how the mystery girl was doing. “People at work see any of the photos?” she asked.
“Yep. Everyone.”
“Anyone going to out you?”
“I hope not.”
“So are you going to tell me why you were at St. Patrick’s and what’s been going on, or am I going to have to beg?”
The papers all mentioned that Derek’s movie was being filmed yesterday at St. Patrick’s Cathedral and had speculated that the mystery girl with the Bulldog had a part in the film, so Emily told Sally about her small role, and about the two dates she had with Derek, although she didn’t tell her about Derek showing up drunk at her apartment at three thirty in the morning to propose to her, or about the sickening feeling she had that what she and Derek had was irreparably damaged by him doing that.
The butterflies never left her stomach that day as she sat anxiously hoping that Derek would call her. At least a dozen times she almost called him before deciding at the last moment not to. She couldn’t help thinking if she tried calling him and he didn’t answer that would be the end of things between them. It was seven thirty when she left the office, and Derek still hadn’t called her.
She didn’t summon Jack that night. She felt too angry at him to see him. She was even angrier at herself. She never should’ve made the wish she had and given Jack the opportunity to mess things up between her and Derek. She tried sitting in the den and reading one of the manuscripts from work that she needed to read, but she was too distracted, and found herself jumping at every little noise, even when Winston’s stomach rumbled.
The next four days went pretty much the same way with Emily swinging between nervously waiting for Derek to call to feeling utterly hopeless about the matter. She didn’t summon Jack any of those nights. Instead she spent them holed up in her apartment, too distracted to do much of anything.
The next night she summoned Jack. When he appeared he gave her a nonchalant look as if there were no issues between them. “Miss Mignon,” he said with a nod. “I believe it’s been a few days since you’ve summoned me last.”
“Almost a week,” Emily said, coldly.
“Is that so?”
“Yep, very much so. And it’s looking to me as if you’re not going to be honoring my wish.”
The genie closed his eyes as a look of frustration settled in. “We went through that already,” he said with a forced patience, his voice sounding as if the subject exhausted him. “Miss Mignon, let’s assume you had wished for a million dollars, and I delivered the money to you in a suitcase. If you had let the suitcase sit where it was and never bothered taking possession of it, you can’t then blame me for not granting your wish and keep insisting that I send you another million dollars. The same is true here. I had that actor propose to you. If you accepted his proposal you’d be married now. The fact that you didn’t is not my fault. Your wish was granted, you just chose to keep it from happening.”
“It’s not the same thing. I wished for a wedding, not a drunken proposal.”
The genie muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” Emily asked.
“Simply that your being stubborn about this isn’t going to change things. I granted your wish. You scuttled it. It’s done.”
Jack began to turn from her so he could make a show of browsing Theodore Anderson’s book collection, but Emily stopped him by telling him that she decided she’d rather be alone that evening after all.
“Very well,” the genie said, his jaw muscles clenching tightly. He disappeared then amidst a louder and angrier burst of blue smoke than usual.
By the next day Emily had given up hope of anything happening with Derek. She thought about using another of her wishes, this time being more careful and specific with how she was to be married to Derek, but she decided against it. She really didn’t want to see Jack right then, and she also knew he’d find a way to ruin her wish regardless of how careful she was. Also, she wasn’t happy that Derek had chosen to ignore her after coming to her apartment drunk the way he had—even if he did so only because of Jack. It shocked her later that day when she heard someone clearing his throat outside of her cubicle and saw that it was Derek. He dropped to one knee. Winston had been lying by Emily’s feet, but he pushed himself up so he could waddle over to Derek and push his nose into Derek’s face, all the while wagging his tail. Derek playfully wrestled Winston to the floor with one hand while he pulled out from his bomber jacket pocket a diamond ring with his other hand. This was a different one than he had had shown Emily earlier. This one was much bigger, much classier, and looked far more expensive.
“Emily, I’m stone cold sober right now,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes almost as bright as the sparkle in the diamond ring. “Will you marry me? Today, in fact, as I badly want you to be my wife. I booked us a flight to Las Vegas that leaves LaGuardia in one hour, and as soon as we step off the plane we’ll head right to the chapel. That’s if you’ll have me.”
Emily was stunned. Jack had fixed her wish after all, and now that it was happening all she felt was scared to death. But she nodded, her eyes glistening wet as she did so. Derek grinned wickedly seeing that, and jumped to his feet so he could take Emily into his arms and kiss her hard on the mouth.
“You’re trembling,” he whispered.
“I’m just so happy,” she whispered bac
k.
“I’m so sorry I acted like such an ass before,” he said. “After I left you, I wanted to go right back to your apartment and propose to you, but instead I found a bar and kept trying to build up the necessary courage, one shot at a time. And well, after I went back to your apartment drunk the way I did, I wanted to make sure how I really felt before I saw you again. But I’m sure now.”
Emily stood on her toes so she could reach up and give Derek a harder kiss than he gave her. She knew she couldn’t blame him for showing up at her apartment drunk, or avoiding her afterwards. That was Jack having his genie hand in it. After the kiss ended, she told him not to think about it again. That it was all in the past.
“I need to talk to my boss, and then we’ll go,” she said.
“We don’t have time if we’re going to catch our flight.”
“I just need a minute.”
Derek nodded. They broke their embrace, and as they turned to leave Emily’s cubicle, they saw a group of Emily’s coworkers who had gathered. The group broke into applause then, with coworkers stepping forward to hug and kiss Emily, and to wish her happiness. Her cheeks flushed red with this attention, but she mostly felt as if she were walking on air as she and Derek walked into Mr. Pish’s office, with Winston tagging behind. Mr. Pish looked flustered as she told him that she needed to take some time off because she was getting married, but reminded him that she had six weeks of saved vacation time. “I’m going to be bringing my laptop with me and make sure I stay on top of my assignments,” she promised, “but I have to leave now.”
Mr. Pish stared bug-eyed at her for a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. He maintained his bug-eyed stare as he walked over to Emily and gave her an awkward hug. “I wish you all the happiness in the world, Miss Mignon.” Turning next to Derek, he told him that he was marrying a hell of a great girl. “You better treat her right,” he warned Derek.
“Nothing to worry about there,” Derek promised.
Chapter 28
They made it to LaGuardia in time. Barely. During the limousine ride to the airport, Derek told Emily not to worry about luggage, that he’d buy her everything she needed once they got to Vegas, and since all this was happening because of Emily’s wish she agreed and went along with it. As it turned out, it was a good thing they didn’t have any baggage to check, because if they had they would’ve missed their flight. They had to sprint from the limousine drop-off to the gate to catch their flight, with both of them out of breath and Winston panting heavily as they boarded the plane. Derek had been able to use his celebrity status so Winston could have his own seat with them in first class. “No way I’m putting this ugly bastard in a crate,” he told Emily with a wink.
Once they were in the air Derek told Emily his honeymoon plans. He’d booked a luxury suite at the Wynn Las Vegas for the night, and then the next day they’d fly to Aspen and spend a few days at his lodge in the mountains. “It is breathtaking up there,” he told her. “You’ll love it. And it’s got everything. Maybe we’ll do some skiing.” From the way Emily reacted, he added, “Or maybe not.”
“I’ve never skied before,” Emily admitted. “But I could take lessons.”
“Only if you want to. No pressure. We’ll have a great time regardless. After a few days, we’ll fly to a private island off Tahiti. It’s fantastic there, and I’ve already arranged with a friend to let us have the use of it as long as we want it.”
As Emily sat there it felt as if she were in dream. None of it seemed quite real. Not when she called up her mom and told her what was happening, promising that they’d have another wedding later in Des Moines, and not when the plane landed and they went straight to a wedding chapel on Las Vegas Boulevard and were married by an Elvis impersonator, which Derek told her was something he’d always wanted to do. As they left the chapel and headed to the Wynn Las Vegas and their honeymoon suite, Emily still had this odd feeling that she’d be waking up any minute and finding herself back in New York.
Things got very real once they got to the door of their suite. Derek had picked Emily up to carry her over the threshold, but before he could open the door two men approached them seemingly out of nowhere, with one of them calling Derek by name. When Derek saw them a hitch showed along the side of his mouth. He put Emily down and handed her Winston’s leash.
One of the men was short and stocky with a bald head and diamond stud earrings in both ears, the other was larger and bulkier with thick arms and his hair shaved down to no more than a quarter of an inch. They were both scary looking, and both with hardened faces that looked as if they were carved out of rock. Derek turned to face them, his skin color not quite right. Winston began growling deep in his throat.
“Chickie,” the bald one told Emily. “If you don’t want to see your dog hurt you better keep a firm grip on that leash.”
Emily didn’t know who this man was but she pulled Winston closer to her so he was up against her leg. The bald man turned his attention back to Derek and asked him who the cute chickie was.
“She’s my wife,” Derek said with a tentative smile.
“Your wife? No kidding? I didn’t think you’d ever get married. Goddamn, she’s a cute one. Congratulations are in order, my man.”
He held out his hand to Derek. Derek hesitated as if he knew what was going to happen next and his smile turned queasy, but he still took the man’s hand and was jerked forward as the bald man kneed him viciously in the groin. Derek doubled over and collapsed to the floor, his face purpling. Emily started to scream. Winston bared his fangs and struggled against the leash to lunge at the bald man. The larger man shushed Emily with an index finger. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a knife. He opened it by pushing a button and the blade looked huge.
“Be quiet now or I’ll cut your throat,” he warned Emily. “And control that ugly dog or I’ll do the same to him.”
Emily stopped her scream before much of it got out. She pulled Winston even closer to her and dropped to her knees so she could hug him tight and keep him from breaking free of her. The large man didn’t seem all that concerned about that happening, and with a sickening feeling Emily knew he’d kill Winston without a hint of remorse if the dog got away from her.
The bald man was shaking his head sadly at Derek. “You didn’t think we’d find out you were coming here?” he asked. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Goddamn it, Derek, you weren’t supposed to leave New York until you spoke with Mr. Stone. You have any idea how pissed he is at you right now? Here we give you all these breaks and you keep pissing us off. If it wasn’t your wedding day I’d kick your teeth in right now, but being a sentimental guy, I’ll give you one more break.”
He reached down with his left hand to help Derek to his feet, and as he pulled Derek up, he stepped quickly and drove his right fist hard into Derek’s stomach sending him again to the floor. Emily began crying, and the larger man shook his head at her as a warning to stay quiet.
The bald man watched Derek struggle to get to his knees and then told Derek that Mr. Stone was waiting for him so he’d better speed it up. The purple was gone from Derek’s face and his skin color was now a sickish gray. He held his stomach with one hand as he slowly worked his way to his feet. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble breathing, and in a gasping voice he told Emily to wait for him in their suite.
“Don’t call the police,” he forced out, his voice not much more than a hoarse croak, his breathing badly labored. “This is a stupid misunderstanding. I’ll get it cleared up. So please, just wait for me and I’ll be back soon.”
The bald man told Emily to listen to her husband. “He knows what he’s talking about, chickie. You don’t want to be calling no one.”
The two men got on either side of Derek and half dragged him down the hallway and out of sight. Only then did Winston stop his growling. And only then did the shock of what happened clear up enough so that Emily could think about summoning Jack.
She stumbled to her
feet and fumbled with the magnetic door key before getting the door to her suite open. Once she was inside, she yelled out in a frantic voice summoning Jack. The genie appeared a second later and Emily lurched forward as if she was going to grab him by his suit jacket. Jack leaped backwards, a panic-stricken expression across his face.
“Miss Mignon, please! You cannot touch me! If you do you would die horribly and there would be nothing I could do to save you!”
Emily nodded her understanding of what Jack told her as she stood pulling on her fingers, her face twisted into a mask of anguish.
“They took Derek! I need you to save him!”
“Miss Mignon, you need to calmly tell me what has happened.” Jack wiggled his right index finger and a comfortable-looking armchair with big soft pillows appeared directly behind her. “First sit down,” Jack said. Emily did as she was asked. Jack wiggled his index finger again and a wet cloth and a glass of water materialized next to her. “Please, drink the water, then put the cloth on your forehead. When you’re capable of doing so, explain to me exactly what has happened.” Frowning, he glanced quickly around the suite and added, “And tell me where we are.”
Emily did as the genie suggested, first drinking the water, then placing the cloth on her forehead. The cloth had been soaked in warm water and smelled heavily of lavender, and it helped calm her down enough so that she could organize her thoughts and in a shaky voice tell Jack the events of the day leading up to the two men attacking Derek outside of the suite. As she did this, Jack’s frown only grew more severe.
“Did you cause those men to be waiting here for Derek?” Emily demanded.
The genie shook his head. “No, this was not my doing, I assure you.” He closed his eyes and squeezed his eyelids with his thumb and index finger. “I had told you this wish to marry this man was reckless, but never mind. You do not need me to scold you now.” He opened his eyes, a tiredness settling over his features. Sighing softly, he said, “Miss Mignon, I recommend that you leave here immediately and that you have this marriage annulled. If you wish I could take you back to your home in New York, but that would be an awful waste of one of your last remaining wishes. It would make far more sense for you to simply wish for great wealth, as I’ve been suggesting, and then buy an airplane or train ticket to take you back to New York.”