"I saw you looking at the hemline of my pants a few minutes ago," the housekeeper said. "I got a knife I keep there just in case I got a problem customer. Don't wanna be the next dead housekeeper." She pulled up her pants and there in a scabbard was the knife. She took it out. It was a scary thing with a big, wide blade. She idly tossed it from hand to hand then put it back. "No sir, anyone thinks about hurtin' me, they're gonna get this shiv shoved in their gut first."
Doug began to feel even worse than he had. This really was a sick place. If you scratched the underbelly of Vegas, the maggots came out. All he wanted was to get out of there and go home.
"Well, I think that's it," the housekeeper said. "You seem like a nice man; might be good for you to go home. This ain't no place for a good man to be."
Doug finished his emails, checked his appointment book, and left for his afternoon calls. Four hours later, he headed back to the Venetian. Despite his best efforts, he had only made one sale. This may have been the longest day of my life, he thought, the company won't break even on this trip.
He went downstairs to have dinner. He didn't feel like gambling, drinking, or smoking. He still felt sick to his stomach. He admitted to himself he hadn’t felt this bad since he'd stayed at the motel in the desert on the way back from Phoenix and going toward his dreaded meeting with Jack. What was the name of that place? Oh yeah, the Blue Coyote. He had felt great when he left there and he'd kept that feeling, but lately he could feel himself losing it. He was beginning to slip back into patterns of the old Doug, the Doug he had grown to hate. He had really thought that Doug was gone. The flashbacks were becoming a reality. Maybe there was something about that motel? Maybe he should go back. His mojo was gone and he needed to get it back.
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Memorial Day weekend was coming up. He decided he'd call the rental car company and return it when he got back to California on Sunday. He’d leave tomorrow morning, drive south on Highway 95 to Blythe and then west to the hotel. It was a long drive and out of the way, but he didn't care. Visiting the motel again was the only thing he could think to do and perhaps regain the good feelings he had when he left there.
He went back to his room to call the Blue Coyote to see if they had any rooms left for the Memorial Day weekend. Before he made the call, he decided a couple more aspirin couldn't hurt. He walked into the bathroom to get some water. He looked at the mirror and was shocked by what he saw. No wonder Lacy had commented on how tired he looked. He seemed a lot more than tired; he looked old! What in the hell was happening? Where was the charismatic guy from a few months ago? What was going on? He'd aged over five years. He tried smiling at the mirror. That helped to erase the lines. He guessed he'd have to go around smiling all day. He knew he owed Lacy some sort of explanation, but for the life of him he couldn't come up with anything plausible.
I probably do need to get away, he thought. I've been working harder than ever. Maybe it's beginning to take its toll. He placed a call to the Blue Coyote Motel. The phone was answered by the beautiful Latina woman he remembered. He made a reservation for the coming Memorial Day weekend, telling her he would check in the next day and would be leaving Sunday morning. The young woman told him she looked forward to seeing him and asked how he was doing.
"You wouldn't believe how great my life has been since the last time I was at the Blue Coyote," Doug said. He began telling the young woman about the last few months. He related just how great he'd felt when he left the motel, how his life had turned around, but unfortunately, now he was feeling like he was losing it and going back to his old ways. He wondered if maybe his motel stay had something to do with it, he said, so he had decided to go back for a second visit. He told her he'd see her tomorrow. When he hung up, he was embarrassed that he'd divulged so much about his personal life. It was very unlike him. Well, at least she'll know why I'm there—to get my life back together.
Doug called Lacy and got the answering machine. "Lacy, you know how I've been tired lately. Things haven't been great at work or at home. I know it's me, not you. I've decided to drive to that motel I told you about, the Blue Coyote. It's the one located in the desert out in the middle of nowhere. I'm going to spend the weekend there and drive home Sunday. Perhaps I'll feel better after I've been there. I love you and I'll see you in three days." He hung up, feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks.
After Maria hung up from talking to Doug, she turned to Jeffrey. "Doug Ritchie just made a reservation for the Memorial Day weekend. He'll be checking in tomorrow and he's not doing well. It probably wouldn't hurt to pipe Freedom into his room a few hours in advance. He was a nice guy. I'm sure he'll feel better after he gets here."
CHAPTER 28
Luisa and Jorge's move from Rio had gone smoothly. Soon, they were settled in their new home in California, eagerly awaiting the birth of their much wished for baby. Jorge was ecstatic when the sonogram showed that the baby would be a boy. They decided on the name "Carlos" to honor Luisa's maternal grandfather. She had been very close to her grandparents, spending many summers on their ranch located not far from Rio. She was an accomplished horsewoman and she dreamed of the day she could have her own horse and ranch. Luisa decided to wait until Carlos was out of his infancy, but she definitely wanted him to enjoy the experience of being on a ranch as much as she had.
Luisa was adjusting to the new maid and the cook she had inherited from the former owners. They were good, but she still missed the easy relationship she had with Manny and Luz. They knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. She knew it would take time to adjust to the new help. Although she liked the food that Joey, the cook, prepared, she was having a hard time getting used to California cuisine. She was well aware that all the fruits, vegetables, and grains were good for her, but she longed for the free range beef and chicken she was used to eating in Rio.
Now that Luisa was pregnant, she was even happier that binging and purging were behind her and nothing more than an unpleasant memory. She had vowed to make her body the perfect vehicle for her baby-to-be and being bulimic was no longer an option. Looking back, she realized the living hell she had been in and swore to herself that she would never do it again.
She had interviewed a number of nannies to care for the new baby, but so far, none of them seemed to be right. Her mother, Juanita, offered to come over daily to help her, but Luisa was still intent on finding the perfect nanny. Juanita had enough to do adjusting to her new life in California without the added pressure of having to help with the daily care of a baby, even though it was her first grandchild. Luisa would just have to keep looking. When she found a nanny, she knew her mother would still find plenty of excuses to be with her grandson.
Jorge was getting used to his biweekly trips from California to Brazil and back again. While he loved California and his new life, he suffered from an ongoing sense of guilt. When he was in Brazil, he felt guilty for being away from Luisa. When he was in California, he felt guilty for being away from the family business. He decided he needed an outlet and the time had come to indulge in his hidden passion. Jorge had always wanted to own a boat. Their new home had a dock right outside the back door and there was really nothing to hold him back.
On a beautiful sunny day, he and Luisa drove down Pacific Coast Highway to Newport Beach to look at boats. It didn't take very long until Jorge found the perfect one he had to have. It was a gorgeous brand new 58’ powerboat. The galley and main cabin were outfitted with the latest in boating interiors, as was everything else on the boat. Warm woods, polished to a burnished sheen, made the airy cabin and staterooms inviting. There was even a bathtub, which was unheard of on pleasure boats of this size. The smaller stateroom would be perfect for baby Carlos. Luisa and Jorge felt they could do without their household help on boating weekends. The sunroof, ample headroom, and freeboard all contributed to the roomy feeling. It even came with a 13' Boston Whaler, perfect for when they were anchored and needed to get to shor
e.
Although Jorge had been on many boats, he had never owned one. His father, Tomas, was an accomplished sailor. Jorge had always preferred powerboats, but his father loved the quiet movement of the sailboats with the challenge of setting the sails just right in order to catch the wind. Jorge was impatient and wanted to get where he wanted to go faster than a sailboat would allow.
Arrangements were made to have the boat brought up the coast to the dock in back of their house the following week. Jorge could hardly wait. When the boat pulled up to the dock, their next-door neighbors, John and Becky Richards, came over to admire it. John had introduced himself to Luisa and Jorge the day they had moved into their home. Over the past few months, they had talked a number of times and John was the one who had recommended the boat dealer where Jorge bought the boat. As soon as the boat was tied up, John asked if he could come aboard. An accomplished yachtsman, he knew just about everything there was to know about boats.
As he stepped aboard, John said, "Jorge, you've done well. She's a beauty. I'd love to go out with you when you're ready. You'll need a few shakedown cruises before you take her too far. I'd be happy to help." John couldn't hide his joy at being the first guest on Jorge's beautiful new boat. They made plans to go out the following day.
The boat handled beautifully and Jorge felt comfortable as soon as he stood at the wheel. It was equipped with the latest in electronic gadgetry and he and John spent much of their time figuring out what was important to learn right away and what could be postponed until later. Once they got beyond the artificial breakwater that protected the harbor and entered the open ocean, they discovered just how easily the boat handled as she skimmed over the waves. Farther out in the ocean, they were able to easily run her up to eighteen knots. She rode steady and smooth. Jorge felt like he'd been behind the wheel of the boat all of his life. He loved the feeling.
"Jorge, what are you going to name her?" John asked.
"I don't know. The people at the boat dealership wondered the same thing. I told them I'd wait a day or two to register and name her. They cautioned me against waiting too long. I guess there's some kind of fine assessed if you wait too long," Jorge replied. "I think I'll name her Luisa in honor of my wife. If it wasn't for her sister's wedding I'd never be here today and I would never have had the opportunity to own this boat. Yes, that's what I'm going to do; Luisa it is."
They took Luisa back and Jorge carefully guided her up to the dock located adjacent to the rear of their house. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to him. "John, let's christen her now. I'll get Luisa, some champagne for us, and Perrier for her. You get Becky. I'll meet you back here at the dock in five minutes."
Luisa greeted Becky and John. Turning to Jorge, she said, "Why are we all down at the dock? I've been on the boat and I'm glad you're enjoying it, but I really don't want to be out on the water until after the baby is born. I'm finished with morning sickness and I don't want to get seasick."
Jorge took a bottle of champagne and neatly cracked it across the bow. "I christen you Luisa in honor of the love of my life, my wife, Luisa," he said quite formally. Luisa had no idea Jorge was even thinking of naming his prized possession after her. She was speechless and started to cry. Not many women had a beautiful yacht named after them. "And now we drink this second bottle of champagne to Luisa!'"
John turned to Jorge and said, "Jorge, I belong to a yacht club over on Catalina Island. It's called the Fourth of July Yacht club. It’s named after a small protected cove. Let's take Luisa over there one of these days. I think you'll like it."
He was really looking forward to taking Jorge to Catalina Island on his new boat. He couldn't wait to introduce Jorge to the island. It was one of his favorite places. During the summer months, John's wife and children had spent many weeks staying in the small rustic cabins located at the yacht club while he commuted to his commercial real estate business via his boat.
They made plans to go the following Saturday morning. The day broke clear and sunny; a perfect day for a boat trip to Catalina. A glassy sea made the two and a half hour trip go fast. With John's help, Jorge felt more and more in control of the boat. As they approached the island, they contacted the Harbor Master by radio and were told that there was a mooring available in the Fourth of July Cove. As soon as the boat was secured, Jorge and John lowered themselves into the Boston Whaler and made their way to the yacht club's dinghy dock, a small dock reserved for members who could tie up their small boats while going ashore.
The clubhouse had a beautiful view that overlooked the protected cove. Jorge thought it would be a very safe place for children. Steep hills rose from the ocean’s edge; isolating the cove. The only way in or out was either by boat or by a small dirt path that ran along the top of the hills which surrounded the yacht club. Anyone walking along the path was completely visible to the members of the yacht club. In the forty years the club had been in existence, there had never been a problem with theft or vandalism. The worst problem seemed to be an occasional member drinking too much and having trouble maneuvering his way back to his boat.
Membership in the club included priority mooring in the Fourth of July Cove and unlimited use of all of the club's many amenities, such as private outdoor showers and the large commercial kitchen in the clubhouse, which the boaters could use to prepare meals. The highlight of being a member of the yacht club was the weekly Saturday night party. Each Saturday night, during the summertime, several members co-hosted a theme party and prepared hors d'oeuvres. It was a bring-your-own-bottle and main course type of party. Games, snacks, and movies for the children were a big part it. Jorge couldn't wait to tell Luisa about the club. Everyone was very friendly and helpful. He asked John how difficult it would be to become a member. It seemed like a very exclusive club and Jorge thought it would probably take several years to qualify for membership.
"John, I think Luisa would love it over here. I would like to apply for membership. How should I go about it?" Jorge asked.
"I think you're in luck, Jorge. Usually it takes several years to become a member, but since I'm the head of the Membership Committee, I rather imagine I can get you approved as soon as you apply. When we get back home to the mainland, I'll bring you an application.”
Jorge couldn't believe his luck. He had no idea that John was such an important member of the club. While they were ashore and having dinner in the clubhouse, John introduced him to a number of members. Back on the Luisa, they had a nightcap on the deck, watching the lights of the other boats swaying in the gentle swells of the protected cove. It looked like a magical fairyland. Jorge couldn't wait to bring Luisa and their soon-to-be-born baby to the cove.
They returned home the following day. Everything on the boat had worked perfectly during the previous night they had spent on board the Luisa. Even with heavier seas during the return trip to the mainland, the boat was a joy to handle. When they got home, they washed the boat down with fresh water and took care of a few maintenance items that were part of owning a boat. The boat wouldn't be used again until Jorge returned home in two weeks. At dinner that Sunday night, Jorge eagerly told Luisa about his trip to Catalina and the magical little yacht club. He told her he was going to apply for membership when he returned from his trip to Brazil. Luisa couldn't wait to see the club.
Although Jorge was gone for two weeks every month, it was a wonderful time in Luisa's life. Now that morning sickness had ended, she felt terrific. Her one indulgent concession to pregnancy was a welcomed afternoon nap. She saw her parents almost daily. Since her sister Selena and her husband Jim only lived about fifteen miles away, most weekends Luisa and her parents went down the coast to Laguna Beach to see them.
After returning home from Catalina with the boat, Jorge left the next day for Brazil. He was the happiest he'd ever been. He was married to a beautiful woman with a baby on the way. Living the dream, some would say. If one believed in karma, one would say his karma was good. He also had a lovely home on a pro
tected inland waterway in Huntington Harbor, about an hour south of Los Angeles. Houses in the area were protected by a seawall with floating docks located in the rear of each house. Access to the dock was via a gangway leading from the resident's backyard.
There were several thousand homes in the upscale community with selling prices starting at well over a million dollars. Jorge had an outstanding boat tied up to his dock and enough money to do whatever he wanted. His life was very good and he knew it. Although he and Luisa tithed to the local Catholic Church, Jorge decided it was time to make an extra donation in honor of all the blessings bestowed upon him.
His driver picked him up at the Galeao International airport in Rio when he landed and took him to his home. It seemed empty to him now that Luisa and the help were gone. Luz still came every other week to clean for him, but it wasn't the same as having Luz and Manny there all the time. Jorge had been thinking about getting a small condominium, but that would require finding the time to look for one. When he was in Brazil, there were not enough hours in the day to do what needed to be done.
The next morning, he went to the Ortega & Ortega headquarters. His father, Tomas, had decided long ago that trips to the Amazon were not for him. He always became ill—from the lack of good drinking water, the humidity, the heat, the malaria-carrying mosquitos, and little sleep. Fortunately, Jorge could weather the trips and he became the face of the company at its locations in the depths of the Amazon.
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