by Paul Watkins
She laughs.
“Yeah, that must be it. All that wisdom folded into your wallet. Well, in the meantime, for the next twenty years or so, I’m going to chase you around and see if I can’t find out what makes you so smart.”
“You do that. I might even let you catch me once in a while. Just be nice and treat me right on those few occasions or I’ll never let it happen again.”
“Okay, we’ve settled that,” she says with the air of a high-powered executive dismissing the issue and ready to move on to the next item on the agenda, “…back to the important stuff. Do you think you can leave sometime in the next two weeks?”
“Yeah, I think so. Let me check with A.J. and see what his schedule is like. He has a big deal coming up in Nashville and I can’t take off until that’s settled. I’m pretty sure it’s this Friday. I’ll let you know later today or tomorrow. If we don’t take the time right then I may not have another opportunity for quite a while.”
“What’s going on in Nashville?”
“Well it’s top secret, but I guess I can tell you. It’s big-time confidential though. Scout’s honor?”
I hold up my hand with the three-fingered scout’s sign and she responds accordingly. Our covenant completed, I continue.
“A.J. went to Nashville about four months ago to cut a single. It was just an experiment… sort of indulging a whim, I thought. It turns out A.J. has always had a thing about country music. His style is sort of rockabilly, as opposed to the slow moving, twangy ballads. You know the type… I loved her more than my shotgun and pickup, but not as much as my dog… damned if she didn’t run off with my dog and now I’m all alone, shootin’ down the highway of love.”
I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t have a good understanding of country music. Either that or she has a very good understanding and she just doesn’t think much of my lyrical efforts.
“Anyway, he lined up a star-studded band to back him up and I guess he surprised everyone. They all thought it was great, so they decided to hold off on the single and put together some music befitting A.J.’s style. The whole thing took a couple of months, including several secret recording sessions to build an album.
“A.J. says it’s going to surprise a lot of people. Of course the jury will be out until the public reacts, but if it goes as hoped and predicted, he might have a career change. I’ve never heard any of his new music, so I don’t have a clue… not that I’m any judge.”
“Really? A.J. might become a country singer?”
Jennifer is clearly fascinated with this improbable turn of events.
“Well, to understand the possibilities, you have to think about a couple of things. A.J. is a star in his own right and he’s one hell of a showman. He’s smart enough to know he can’t make a long-term career out of rap and he knows he has show business in his blood. In other words, no matter what, A.J. will want to stay in the entertainment business one way or another. His record company will help him make the switch. After all, it will be in their best interests as well.
“The bottom line, unlike a lot of people trying to break into the field, he will have considerable firepower behind him from the outset. As always, the final say will be up to the public. But if there’s any kind of favorable reaction, he’ll go for it. It’s a big decision.”
“What do you think about all this?”
“I think it’s great. A.J. is a tough, savvy guy and he has the guts of a used Jaguar salesman. I wouldn’t hesitate to back him if it depended on my money. The funny part of all this will be if they get the two audiences mixed together. Can’t you just see it, the boys from the hood, arm-in-arm with a bunch of crackers, stompin’ away? He might make the United Nations look like they really have it all together.”
Jennifer’s reply is a slow smile and a practically inaudible humming sound. She, too, is intrigued bythe possibilities.
***
Friday’s announcement came and A.J. made all the national entertainment news. The deal was much farther along than I had implied to Jennifer, but I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case something delayed or unhooked the agreement. By early evening the radiostations were playing A.J.’s new songs and CD sales were off and running in the well-oiled world of music marketing. I suppose it’s always easier when you’re already a star… a known quantity of sorts. For my part, I like the sound of his new music. It’s hot with a driving beat… very danceable, I’m sure. I’m not a dancer and there’s no amount of booze capable of turning me into one, so I can only imagine.
The early returns indicate A.J. will be as hot in country music as he has been in rap… maybe hotter. Now the real work begins. Initially, A.J. will have the ballyhoo associated with the surprise and novelty of his crossover going for him. The rest will have to be earned. We have trashed his tentative schedule and a whole new itinerary is in the process of being drawn up. Some dates can’t be broken because of the nature of the contractual obligation. In other cases, the people would rather keep the date and schedule the new music. Win or lose, the next year will be a bitch.
A.J. asked me to take full responsibility for the restaurant expansion and all new contract negotiations across the board. He has become a corporation in his own right. It’s hard to believe the kinds of offers already flooding in. Theater dates, corporate sponsors, charity golf outings, speaking dates, you name it, all vying for the time and attention of the world’s latest natural wonder. As far as Jennifer and Florida are concerned, it’s now or a long time from now. Once this thing gets going, I do not expect to see any letup for at least a couple of years. And, if we’re lucky, it will last the rest of A.J.’s professional life.
Southwest Florida Regional Airport, located just outside Fort Myers is hot and humid. Compared to the cool early spring temperatures in New York it’s actually a bit uncomfortable. I’m afraid I had forgotten what it’s like down here at this time of year. Daytime temperatures are well into the 80’s and the evenings are balmy. Perfect for golf, fishing or any other outdoor sport. I wish I had more time. it would be nice to get out on the water for a half-day or so.
“There’s mother’s car, Philip. Over there.”
Jennifer is pointing towards a silver-gray Rolls-Royce pulling up to the curb about twenty feet away. The driver is a middle-aged man dressed in a gray uniform that matches the car. I suppose it tells me a lot, although I’m not quite sure what. Perhaps there’s a ‘Rent-a-Rolls’ in the neighborhood and he just got lucky and wore the right outfit today. then again, maybe not.
The driver emerges from the car and walks sedately towards Jennifer, extends his hand and smiles. Jennifer takes his hand and wraps her other arm around his neck and kisses him lightly on the cheek.
“Hello, Charles, it’s so good to see you again. Are you well?”
The chauffeur bows slightly and responds, “Hello, Miss Jennifer, it’s good to see you, too. And, yes, I am well. Thank you for asking.”
Jennifer turns and gestures towards me.
“Charles, I would like you to meet my friend, Philip Richards. Philip, Charles has been with us for years. He’s the only one who has ever been able to put up with my mother.”
Charles’ handshake is accompanied with a slight bow.
He immediately turns to Jennifer with his gentle admonition, “Now, now, Miss Jennifer, your mother is a wonderful lady and I’ve been very fortunate to be with her all this time.” His soft chuckle signals his good nature.
Charles bows slightly again and walks to the back of the car where he opens the trunk. I help with the luggage despite his mild protests. It’s his job, but I’m sure he can do without any more heavy lifting at his age. Once loaded, Jennifer and I make ourselves comfortable in the back seat and we set off for Naples in style.
The rich really are different. By rich, I mean people who have always had a lot of money, lots of money
for generations. They live differently and act differently than the rest of us. Obviously, some would say I’m rich as well, but with me it’s recent… I wasn’t born to wealth. Although I ‘found’ a stash to get me started, I worked hard for the rest and it’s difficult for me to spend money the way someone would who arrived in this world with stock options in his or her bassinet. I simply can’t spend money without thinking about what kind of value I’m getting. I haggle if I buy a car. I shop around for any major capital purchase. I just can’t go out and give someone a bunch of money without comparing prices elsewhere. Old money doesn’t do that, or even think about doing it.
These weighty issues rattle around in my head, along with similar thoughts as we ride quietly down I-75, the large car moving effortlessly with the traffic. Charles takes the north Naples exit and we work our way to Route 41, the former arterial highway for this region, and then south again to the old Naples area.
The small commercial district on 5th Avenue is busy and crowded with cars and pedestrian traffic, slowing us to the proverbial snail’s pace. Tourists and residents move across the street and through the shopping areas in a random fashion as we move quietly down the street in our insular air-conditioned world.
I have plenty of time to look around at the stores, but I recognize few of them. This particular commercial district has been significantly upgraded and several of the stores have changed in the process. Somehow there’s a combination of tourist glitz and resident quality blended together in a very interesting and acceptable fashion. A few more blocks and we emerge into a quiet neighborhood and turn left on to Gulf Shore Drive. We are now in the exclusive residential district known as Port Royal.
I have driven through this area a few times in the past. It’s a mixture of average homes and palatial estates. all at Pentagon prices. There are many ways to be on the waterfront around here because of the various coves and inlets meandering through the land mass. The most coveted land, of course, is along thegulf. It is only on the beachfront property where one can look west across the gulf and see the spectacular sunsets that bless these shores every evening. It’s a view unencumbered by other homes or anything manmade, other than the occasional boat traveling along the shoreline.
Charles slows the car and we turn right onto a narrow drive that cuts through a tall hedgerow. The house is set back from the road at least two hundred yards. The property is immense by Florida standards, but in reality it can’t be more than six or seven acres. The landscaping is simple, but elegant, palm trees and a few flowering bushes. That’s it. I cannot tell how large the house is from here, but it’s quite impressive. A two-story affair made of white brick and a roof covered with dark flat tiles.
Jennifer has her door open before Charles brings the car to a complete stop. Her mother, a small, woman, stands at the top of the stairs leading to the covered porch area that protects the front door from the elements. She smiles as Jennifer takes the steps two at a time. They embrace and kiss and embrace again. Although Jennifer has said little of her mother, she is obviously devoted to her. I follow at a discreet distance, not wanting to interrupt their reunion.
As I reach the top step, Jennifer turns to me, takes my hand and introduces me to her mother, Mrs. Alicia Morgan. She extends her hand and I take it gently. I cannot help but notice the strong physical resemblance between mother and daughter, petite, slender, good skin and sparkling blue eyes. I don’t know how old Mrs. Morgan is, but she is still a very attractive woman. Like her daughter, she could pass for someone several years younger than her chronological age… a trait most women would covet.
“Jennifer has told me so much about you, Philip, I feel I already know you. However, she did not tell me you were so handsome. Men with dark hair and blue eyes have always captivated me.”
She makes this statement unabashedly and has the same twinkle I’ve seen in her daughter’s eye. I acknowledge the compliment with a smile and a polite bow.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Morgan. I see now where Jennifer got all her beauty and charm. She’s a very lucky woman.”
Mrs. Morgan laughs in turn and looks at Jennifer.
“When you return home, Jennifer, I want you to leave Philip here. I love him already. He lies with such grace. I need more men like him for company.” And then to me, “Philip, I would prefer that you call me Alicia. We’re not very formal here.”
I nod my head in agreement and without another word Alicia turns and leads the way into the house. The interior of the home would best be described as old Florida rich. It is a grand, stately mansion that provides comfort and serenity to a wealthy lady for a few months of the year. It shares a quality with Jennifer’s home in the north in that, although elegantly appointed, there is a comfortable air about it. It takes a special talent, I think, to blend all the fabrics and colors and accessories into a welcoming ambiance.
Jennifer and I grab our bags and head upstairs to our rooms. She points to my room and walks into the next one down the hall. There’s a connecting door and Jennifer opens it just as I throw my bag on the bed.
“I’m going to freshen up before going back downstairs,” she calls out.
“Fine, I’ll meet you there,” I reply.
Looking about the room I think I could get used to this in time… about two seconds. There’s a bit more space than I’m used to in my current setup, with large double doors opening to a verandah facing the gulf. I step outside and look down at a large swimming pool surrounded by a patio and an adjoining low wall made of the same brick used in the house. The lawn extends from there and eventually blends into the sand beach forming the western border of the property.
The gulf is quiet today with small waves gently nudging the beach. Maybe we don’t die after all. Perhaps all we do is go to Florida and live on the beach. It sure seems like heaven at the moment. I might change my mind if a storm were raging out in the gulf. Mother Nature can be a fearsome lady when she has a mind to wreak her particular brand of havoc here in the semi-tropical lands of this part of the country.
“In here, Philip,” Alicia calls softly as I step from the bottom stair onto the foyer floor.
I look to my left and see Alicia seated in the living room. It’s a large room with a fireplace facing the doors. Tall Palladian windows, reaching almost to the high ceiling, are spaced evenly on either side. The polished hardwood floor is covered with two large matching oriental carpets. Orientals such as these probably cost more than most homes in Florida.
The general decor of the home is unusual for Florida in that it does not feature floral prints and light tropical colors. Here there is a lot of wood that is rather dark in color, but light in texture. Set against the light colored walls and tall airy ceilings, it gives one an impression of substance and permanence without being dark and foreboding. All in all… your basic nice place.
“Come and sit over here, Philip, and tell me all about yourself.”
I have the feeling most of Alicia’s requests are subtle commands that expect and get complete compliance.
I select a high-backed chair near the sofa.
“I like your home,” I offer. “Have you been here long?”
“Over thirty years,” she replies with a slight smile. “We don’t spend a lot of time here anymore. So many of our friends have died or moved away… it’s not the same. Of course, we’re not the same either… we don’t party quite as much as we used to. All my friends are getting old. I’m the only one who isn’t.”
“If that’s true,” I reply, “then you should bottle whatever it is you’re drinking. There’s a lot of money to be made in the fountain of youth market. All the world is waiting for something that really works… and it looks as though you might have found it.”
Alicia smiles, but ignores my comment.
“Speaking of money, Jennifer told me you work for a black entertainer. She also said you sold y
our business, retired, and now you’re working harder than ever. Why are you doing that for goodness sakes?”
“I’m afraid it’s a long story, Alicia,” I reply. “The only explanation I have is that it seemed like a good idea at the time. The truth is, in some ways I am working harder than I would like, but I don’t think it will go on for long. I’m helping my boss, his name is A.J., to get a chain of restaurants going. More importantly, I’m training some of his staff so I won’t have to be so involved in the future. I plan to be finished with most of it in less than two years… hopefully much less. After that it should be pretty straight forward management stuff, not something I’m particularly interested in.”
I can’t help but notice that Alicia listens very closely whenever someone speaks. A trait she shares with her daughter.
“And do you like what you’re doing?” she asks.
“Very much, or, quite frankly, I wouldn’t do it. It’s actually pretty exciting at times. A.J. is young and inexperienced in business and most of the people in the company are the same. But they all try hard and they improve every day. I find it all to be extremely interesting as well as challenging.”
Jennifer walks into the room and I start to rise.
“Sit, Philip,” she commands, holding up her hands and motioning me back into my chair.
Looking at her mother, they silently read each other’s thoughts. Suddenly Jennifer’s hands go to her mouth as she looks back at me.
“I’m sorry, that sounded terrible. Mother will think you’re trained to do all kinds of tricks.”
She sits next to her mother and takes her hands in her own.
“He really isn’t trained at all, Mother. I’m afraid to take him out in public.”
Alicia withdraws her right hand and, in turn, pats Jennifer’s hand and then smiles.
“If you want something that’s trained, get a dog or a horse. If you want the pain and heartache that come with love, get a man. Then, if you find one who’s worth all the grief, trouble and expense, you had better hang onto him. But I must warn you… they are very rare indeed.”