The Gold Club: A White Collar Crime Thriller

by David Haskell

  ~ 29 ~

  Awards

  The Pinup Music Achievements were coming up fast, followed by the Billboards, capped off by the granddaddy Grammys. Buzz on the street claimed Til Nune as the odds-on favorite to win a number of prizes, including the coveted ‘best new artist’ category.

  Til told everyone she didn’t believe a word. In truth, the idea of it made her queasy—not only was it a distinct possibility, but one she would have to deal with much sooner than she would’ve liked. Events were moving faster now, sweeping her along. She was losing control.

  Her managers and handlers assured her she was a lock, based on the seating arrangements. They promised her that such predictions never failed. As that first night drew near, she actually started to believe her own hype. She tried to enjoy it, but her routine was shattered and she couldn’t fall back on any of her old relaxation methods. She started turning to new age gurus to get her through the days, while at night she threw caution to the wind and got high. As long as she kept that balance, she figured she’d be cool. And still, there was Ted. The one constant from simpler times. He was around as often as he could be and kept her feeling relatively grounded. He wasn’t into the drugs though, so she kept him at bay most nights with the excuse of “late rehearsals”, and for that same reason she’d refused to invite him to the PMA’s.

  It was deep into the broadcast when Til took the stage to announce the lifetime achievement award. As the show had gone smoothly up to that point, the producers had their guard down. It was at least partially their fault, then, when the singer went completely off script and threw in a salty diatribe that flew past the sensors and into living rooms all across America. Though the uproar of the live audience was quickly muted by the scrambling technicians, the enthusiastic star could be seen ducking away from a security guard, throwing several punches when caught, and chucking the lifetime achievement statue across the stage before she was forcibly carried offstage.

  * * *

  “We okay to open the doors, you think? Are they ready for us?” Ted fussed and tugged on his bow-tie, unaccustomed to the restrictive confines of his recently purchased tuxedo. He looked around to make sure everything was perfect before turning to his partner for a final confirmation.

  Phil just shrugged, detached from the excitement of the evening as though he endured such events on a regular basis. His own tux, a gaudy rental from two fashion decades past, didn’t fit quite right either, leaving his slumped frame even more amorphous than usual. He didn’t seem to notice, though, nor was he having any of the same breathing difficulties that were afflicting Ted at the moment. The staff, spit-shined and at the ready, were placing the finishing touches on the hors d’oeuvre tables and floral arrangements as the head usher strolled smartly up to the pair and indicated their readiness to commence the affair.

  Obeying the ‘step back’ pushing-air motion from the usher, Ted and Phil moved into their pre-arranged positions, shuffling backwards until they were concealed behind a massive piece of floor-art. Two of the butlers then swung the doors open, encouraging the mass of reception-goers to flood inside. The room was awash in colorful regalia, an excited conversational buzz mixed nicely with the festive sound of clinking glassware. Phil and Ted stepped back into the crowd as if they’d just joined the party themselves. This wasn’t the first time this place had put on a shindig with anonymous benefactors, everything was smooth and well-coordinated.

  Scanning the room in the hopes of finding familiar faces, Ted was drawn to one of the loud talkers who seemed to be attracting a lot of attention. Even before the flock parted, it was obviously Littleton. Her diva-toned voice pierced the din, and when she laughed it carried even further. Catching her eye, Ted smiled and she waved him over enthusiastically.

  “Girls,” she called out, gathering her entourage closer, “girls! You’ve got to meet my dear, dear friend Ted...?”

  “Ward,” he piped in quickly, bailing her out. She wasn’t likely to feel embarrassed either way, not a VIP of her caliber, but he still felt an obligation.

  “Of course,” she crooned, “Ted Ward. One of the Sahara geniuses responsible for my promotions. He really is a hotshot, this one.” She slid her white-gloved fingertips under his chin, stroking his face along with his ego. His grin intensified, though he wasn’t feeling nearly as comfortable as she seemed to think he was.

  He wished Til was around. With a keen instinct for extracting herself—and her friends—from awkward situations, she made for an ideal companion at these sorts of events. But even if she were willing, the negative publicity she’d garnered over her on-air meltdown made such an appearance impossible. Her presence would attract hordes of paparazzi, and that wouldn’t do for a function such as this, so he hadn’t even asked.

  Spotting Phil, Ted tried waving him over, but the tech genius was in some sort of a panicky, tunnel-vision mode. Zeroed-in on an elaborate dessert display, his gaze was rock-solid and unwavering. He seemed to be wondering if he could hide behind it.

  * * *

  On their way to the hill country, Lucinda, Ted, and their small entourage were treated to lavish views of the shimmering city lights through large, tinted windows all along the sides of the limo.

  “See those rows of low buildings off to the left?” Ted was pointing to a dimly lit section on the outskirts, “That’s Sahara, or part of it anyway. Can’t really see the whole complex from here, not at night anyway.”

  “What’s the long set of lights just beyond?” Lucinda asked.

  Ted squinted, moving closer to the window. “Oh, there?” He pointed slightly higher.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the train yard. It’s set up so the rolling stock can be routed either way.”

  She gave a hmm of disinterest, so Ted elected not to elaborate on the intricacies of industrial shipping. Instead he sat back and looked around the interior of the stretch. It was cozy and opulent at the same time, food and drink just an arm’s-reach from the cushy divans. Ted felt like it was like something out of a dream. He understood for the first time how easy it would be to acclimate, though he could do without the tight clothes and tighter restrictions of the social scene. He preferred more casual surroundings, and smaller groups, both of which this luxurious ride out to the countryside took care of nicely.

  * * *

  “I put a lot of work into this place,” Lucinda explained, leading her guests up to the sprawling hillside mansion. “You saw what the other places on the street look like. This one was just the same.”

  The other mansions she was referring to, dotting each rise along the winding road, had indeed smacked of old money gone sour. Victims of the boom and bust times they lived in, they’d been hastily constructed to fill a need, and just as quickly vacated when they became too much to handle.

  The impressive ‘retreat’ they were admiring was in the same state when Sahara’s vartist of the year swooped in and grabbed it. If not for her deep pockets, it might have already fallen into ruin like so many others on this formerly wealthy countryside lane.

  Lucinda escorted her guests through a maze of hallways and great rooms, then down a set of stairs to the basement, where they stepped into a kind of game room. Pool table, corner bar, enormous television set adorning the far wall; best described as a man-cave, it didn’t fit the upstairs décor at all.

  “It’s different. I know,” she said, jumping on what they were all thinking, “I had this room custom built to please the men in my life.” She laughed briefly, letting it trail off with a sigh. “Only too few of them, I’m afraid, but we do what we can, right?” She looked over at Ted, who was busy examining one of the works of art on the wall. He gave her a cursory glance, noticed her disapproving expression, and started pretending to listen. “I thought you boys could entertain yourselves in here for a little while, while I take care of a few last minute arrangements...”

  Phil, having gone silent, was enraptured by a glass-covered display on one of the shelves featuring mint condition
action figures. He would be preoccupied with that for a while. Ted just smiled, hoping his lack of enthusiasm wasn’t showing.

  “It’s only for a little while,” she said apologetically, “I’ll be back before you know it. Make yourself a drink and get comfortable, okay?”

  “Sounds great!” Ted said, stepping over to the bar.

  “Thank you, darling Ted. Back soon. Promise!” With a theatrical flourish, the diva was gone. Ted couldn’t help but wonder if this was really all as informal as she claimed. A few dear friends, that’s how she’d put it. Yeah, right.

  Phil, less impressed, sidled up to the bar and cracked open a built-in fridge beneath the stools. An odd arrangement, it was the reverse of a customary setup, but made perfect sense assuming there was no one behind the bar. Rummaging around, he pulled out frosted mugs and microbrews. With a start, Ted noticed that it had been pre-stocked with all of his favorites. This situation was far more coordinated than he’d realized. Glancing over at his partner, he wondered if that display-case was old or new. She wouldn’t go that far to entertain, would she?

  * * *

  Lucinda never did return to fetch them. Instead, an apologetic butler glided into the room, announcing that the reception was to begin within the hour, inviting them to refresh themselves beforehand in one of the guest suites. They dutifully followed the man back upstairs, down a long corridor, up two more flights, and into a sterile looking, hotel-style wing. There were several numbered doors under lock and key. The butler opened the last one on the left, and after a quick sweep of the facility, he bowed and handed over a key.

  “I’ll call for you at the time of the reception, unless you need anything more?”

  They shook their heads no, and the man backed his way out of the room and, with one more bow, closed the heavy door.

  Looking around, they found themselves in a sort of bridal suite, with changing rooms, a shower and bath, several makeup tables with large mirrors, and their suits neatly pressed and hanging on a movable rack. This last touch was the most impressive, as they’d left their belongings in the car and hadn’t told anyone they were there. Only Lucinda had known, since she was the one who’d suggested they bring a change, so she must have ordered her people to retrieve them and set them out.

  * * *

  With the party in full swing, Ted was impressed to see a full big-band setup, along with a spread so sumptuous it would’ve been suitable for a state dinner. Varieties of caviar or elegant pâtés on every hors d’oeuvres tray, deftly handled by an army of waitstaff bustling around the reception hall. Japanese wagyu and fresh lobster stations situated in the far corners, facing the stage. Top shelf booze and cigars everywhere he turned. Looking out the sweeping back windows down to the pool area, he noticed that the party extended all the way out back as well. A second, larger stage was set up on the edge of the lawn. He wondered what that was all about, but didn’t have time to think much about it—Lucinda chose that moment to grab him by the arm and lead him into the back yard.

  “Oh, you have got to see the new grotto I had installed, the jacuzzi is a wonder if you’ve a mind to jump in later. She grinned and added, “once you’re good and liquored up, I mean.” He allowed her to lead him down the back staircase and outside, where the party was noisier. A few of the more revelrous guests had begun splashing their way across an olympic sized pool.

  About five minutes after she’d excused herself, Ted saw Lucinda climbing the steps on the side of the stage. Making her way to the center and tapping on the microphone, she called for attention, and most of her guests turned to see what was going on.

  “My friends, good evening to you all.” she began, waiting out a bit of feedback for a few seconds before continuing. “Thank you so much for coming to my home, I trust you’re all enjoying yourselves?” She held for applause, cocking an ear at the crowd, but the uncomfortable silence pushed her to get on with it. She recovered well enough, raising her voice up to an appropriately enthusiastic level to announce, “As promised, we have a very special guest performer with us tonight. One of my comrades in the Sahara stable of performers, in fact, a rising star who needs no further introduction. Please welcome...Til Nune!”

  The surprised crowd erupted in cheers, Lucinda hurried off the stage, and the curtain raised up to reveal Til Nune. Eyes downcast, she waited for the cheering to increase. She swung an arm high like always, evoking even more noise, and with an angry downstroke she launched into the show.

  Ted, frozen in the same corner spot where Lucinda had left him, didn’t know quite what to do with himself. Normally he’d find his way to the front, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be seen. Three songs into the set though, one of her obscure indie-rage tracks called Suck It, she made it clear she had spotted him anyway. Choosing particular lyrics on which to catch his eye, she shot daggers from on high whilst angrily belting out, ‘You know what you are and you know how I feel so just suck it!’ Following that illustration of exactly how she was feeling about her boyfriend, she turned her attention back to the fans. For the remainder of the set, she made a point of ignoring him, never even glancing in his direction.

  It was a hot performance, and the audience was none the wiser. As moody as her music was to begin with, it could hardly reflect negatively anyway—still, Ted thought he could detect subtle variations that were all because of him.

  * * *

  He allowed time for her to decompress after the set, but when she failed to emerge, he decided to go in and look. He tried to find Lucy, thinking he should ask permission before entering more private spaces, but she was nowhere in sight. He made sure nobody was watching him, then hopped up on the stage and slipped behind a wall of speakers.

  Ted walked around the makeshift stage. The labels on packing crates and assorted gear strewn about called it a ‘Portable Event Assembly’, which struck Ted as hilariously corporate. It backed up to a small service entryway tucked beneath the mansion proper, off to one side of a row of hedges. There seemed to be no logical way to go up from here, so he tried the door and took the stairs down instead. He found himself in the same game room he’d been quarantined in earlier. It functioned as a gateway for the help, allowing them to appear and disappear without attracting attention. Now Ted could see why the butler had been so quick to get them out of the way before the party. He needed the space.

  Til’s gig-bag was propped up against the pool table. He heard raised voices coming from the next room. Following the noise, he found Lucy and Til in each others’ faces. It looked like the ramp-up to a catfight.

  They both jumped when he cleared his throat, clearly not expecting to be disturbed. Recognizing Ted, they both went quiet, but continued staring each other down. Til blinked first, taking her eyes off Lucinda long enough to break the tension and looking over at Ted.

  Ted gave her a calming glance, then turned to the host. “Is there someplace Til and I could...?” He gave Lucinda a pleading expression, trying to strike a conciliatory tone.

  The host, still staring at Til but starting to lose her edge as well, nodded and walked toward the door. “You two can talk right here. I’ve got guests to attend to. Ms. Nune, thank you again for agreeing to perform tonight.”

  Til didn’t look in her direction, but didn’t incite any further hostility, either. Lucinda left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  Til turned on him and spat, “You set me up!”

  Her tone and the glare startled him. They hadn’t even spoken in ages. How could she be blaming me? “Wait a second! You don’t think that I had—”

  “Think that you what?” Til said in a rush, “Convinced that bitch to hire me? Think you could humiliate me in front of my peers?”

  “Jesus Christ...come on, will you please! I had no idea you were playing tonight.”

  “Oh really? No idea?” She fired off the questions like an inquisitor, growing hotter by the second. “That why you kept me off the guest list for your little party, too?”

  “Come on,�
� Ted shot back, “You’re just being ridiculous. Why would I keep you off...shit, I had nothing to do with the guest list.”

  “Yeah, right!” she spat, “every other talent in the fucking company was there, it was just a coincidence that I was passed over.”

  “It was,” Ted insisted.

  “Right. And then I get suckered into playing here, like the god damned hired help. That’s exactly what you think of me. You and that bitch, I should have never agreed to show up at her house.”

  Ted opened his mouth, then closed it, realizing he had nothing to offer. Nothing she would accept anyway. She was too overwrought, too paranoid, too strung out. He threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat, shaking his head as he turned away.

  “Oh, that’s right. Just go. Fuck you, Ted! I hate you!”

  The words cut like a knife, but he didn’t respond. He held the doorknob for a minute, then turned it sharp and got out as fast as he could. He tried to choke back a sob, but it came out anyway, and he hurried even faster to make sure she couldn’t hear his grief.

  ~ 30 ~

  Encounters

  Til’s ringtone was the last one he expected to hear. Just the familiar sound of it made his heart leap, though he checked his emotion quickly, recalling how unpleasant their last encounter had been. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a hopeful curiosity as he let it ring once extra before picking up. “Hey you.”

  “Hey,” she said, her voice was tentative, but still as rich as he remembered. He felt a pang, realizing how much he’d missed the sound. “Got a minute?”