He smiled as he fired up the smooth-running BMW 1200, saying, “Glad we met, Penny, looking forward to hearing from you when you’re ready to go. I’m planning on riding next weekend, if you want to go along then.”
“I’ll let you know. Nice meeting you, too.”
She reminds me of Annie and our time up in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Jim walked the BMW around in a tight half circle, waved at Penny, and nudged the throttle. The Beatles’ tune, I’ve just seen a face, a face I can’t forget . . . reverberated through his mind as he twisted the throttle, hard. His tail light disappeared in the twilight and avocado trees surrounding the road.
Three - Mack
Nice guy, Penny thought to herself as she listened to Jim’s motorcycle rev through its gears after turning onto Highland Valley Road, which wound around and below the avocado groves, heading west, downhill toward Lake Hodges.
She took her time, ambling her way back to the cabin, thinking over the few things Jim had told her about himself, and the differences between his life and hers as she compared him to the men she’d known and associated with. Jim had a Ph.D. in computer science and worked in satellite communications at a small, secretive firm over in Sorrento Valley. That followed his years up in the Silicon Valley area, working on highly-confidential military communications systems in a place in Mountain View, which he laughingly had called, “the Blue Cube”. Or something like that. Whatever—it all sounded mysterious. He had friendly eyes and a warm, safe-feeling voice.
Ex-husband Bruce was now in her distant past . . . and Mack’s in jail!
Penny had been counting on the arrangement Mack had offered her the previous month after she’d quit her job in tears and disgust. The commercial property management work she’d been in for over ten years had devolved into life in a pressure cooker, with Penny the piece of meat slowly being turned into something unidentifiable and ugly. She had to get out. George, the business owner and her boss, was squeezing everyone: the tenants, the maintenance workers, contractors—and her—to pay for his gambling habit at the local Indian casinos. He was losing his ass and trying to make up for it by increasing the rents, decreasing the upkeep, and refusing salary increases. She was making the same salary since her last raise three years ago. And she was caught between unhappy tenants screaming about needed repairs and the last rent increase, and George screaming at Penny for paying too much for needed painting, or plumbing repairs, or unrented office space. And then there was the recent touching . . . . Too frequently, after a new bout of friction between them, George tried to compensate by placing his hand on her forearm—which was okay—but when it became a touch on the shoulder, she’d wanted to brush the hand away, but in the interest of harmony, ignored it. Then it was no longer the near shoulder; he started reaching across her back to her far shoulder. Nearly an embrace. Too much. Way too much! What next?
Fuck it! Fuck George! Fuck this job! She’d called it in one Friday morning without a plan for what she’d do after the call. Who cares? I’ve had it with this bastard!
She ran into an old high school classmate and occasional college date, Mack, that night in a café-bar in downtown La Mesa.
“Hey, Penny, how are you? You’re looking great!”
It was what she needed to hear that night. And after an evening spent talking about life since high school, exes, and bad jobs, ending the evening at Mack’s snazzy apartment in Mission Valley, Penny thought she’d made the right decision to leave her job. But she wasn’t sure about the decision to spend the night with Mack. He was a fun guy in their college days, but had always left her feeling a little sleazy. She’d considered that but convinced herself, for one evening, she didn’t give a damn. And maybe he’d changed over the years: who knew? But he hadn’t changed and a faintly sleazy feeling was still there. She decided to blame it on the joint they’d smoked; after all, she was forty-eight and could damn well do as she pleased. She was a little disappointed in herself, but it wasn’t going to bother her. It’s just one night!
The next morning, drinking coffee with Mack on the apartment’s balcony overlooking the pool and three spas confirmed both: she felt a little sleazy, but also a little better about things:
“I can offer you a job.”
“Really? What is it?”
“I need someone to look after my books and keep track of the assets in my businesses.”
“I can probably do that. I have a degree in business administration from State, you know. What are the assets? Are we talking about properties, or equipment, or financials . . . what?”
“I know you have that training; that’s why I asked you. Let’s just say it’s financial. Not much in the way of physical stuff, but there is some of that, too.”
“I need a little more. Are we talking about stocks and bonds, some kind of investments?”
“Loans. I make hard money loans. I need help keeping track of them.”
Disappointment in her voice, Penny answered, “Oh, I don’t know anything about that. I’ve never even known anyone in that business.”
“Now you do. It’s pretty simple and I can teach you everything you need to know. Right now, I’m sort of keeping it all in my head and in a little notebook I carry around. But I need someone to clean it all up, track stuff, and computerize it. Are you good with computers?”
“God, yes! When I wasn’t on the phone taking crap from someone, I was keeping track of everything on spreadsheets, sending out notices and emails. I can probably do it.”
“I know you can do it. And there is some actual property stuff that needs to be managed, too.”
“Like what?”
“Bike stuff. I buy and sell motorcycles and motorcycle parts. I’ve got a warehouse up in Ramona where I keep it all. There’s a nice office inside where you can work. I’ll set it up with the newest PCs, internet, phones, furniture, microwave . . . everything you’d want.”
“Ramona! I live in San Diego. I’m not sure I want to make that drive every day. Highway 67? Suicide alley!”
“The money’s good.”
The money was good. After hearing the salary offer, Penny decided she could manage the sleaze issue by being tough and keeping everything on the professional level—and Mack at arm’s length. She accepted the job and started the following Monday, working from home while Mack was getting the office set up. She Googled everything she could find on hard money lending. And she started compiling, from random sheets of paper and Mack’s—not one, but three—notebooks, information about the loans he and a previously unmentioned partner had been making.
Three weeks later Mack showed her the office he’d built for her in the Ramona warehouse, located across the road from the Ramona Municipal Airport. It was all he’d promised, with cable internet, multiple PCs, multi-function printers, office furniture for two, and a kitchenette with a conference table. And there was an old, oak, roll-top desk and a large, heavy safe. The office was located nearest the road, with the warehouse space in the back part of the building, all surrounded by a gravel parking lot. But the property left much to be desired. The building was a run down, corrugated metal affair—shack might have been a better word—that had seen its best days, and was far enough from the downtown area to discourage quick runs to convenience stores for lunch or snack foods. Without the sounds from the airplanes warming their engines on the nearby taxiways, or in takeoff, it would have felt very isolated. She shuddered at the thought of needing to work late hours after dark; the place was just too lonely. But the money was good . . . .
Penny moved in—and a week and a half later, Mack disappeared. In the month she’d been working with Mack, Penny had grown used to not seeing or hearing from him every day. Not even every two or three days. This time it was a week. He finally called—from the downtown San Diego County jail. He wouldn’t say why he was in jail other than that it was some big misunderstanding that his lawyer would handle. But, in the meantime, he couldn’t come up with the ridiculous bail they’d set at two hundred thousand dollars
. The judge told him he was viewed as a flight risk because of the seriousness of the charges and his frequent travel to Mexico. Mack didn’t mention the details of the charges.
“Watch the warehouse. Don’t let anybody in. I mean nobody. Tell me that you understand and agree.”
“Okay, Mack. Whatever you say.”
“Good. Look, if you’re tired of the drive up there, I have a cabin close to Ramona on Starvation Mountain in an avocado grove I own. My dad left it to me when he died, and he wanted me to look after it. You can use the cabin if you want to be closer to the warehouse. It’s old, but clean and kind of a fun place. It has satellite TV, a fireplace, and a nice view of the valley. You might like it. And the drive from there to the warehouse is a piece of cake, you don’t have to mess with Highway 67.”
“Oh? Why do you think I’d want to live there? My place in San Diego is fine.”
“I don’t want the drive to become a problem for you, and I need you working for me now, with this going on.”
“Mack, I don’t want to get caught up in something.”
“You won’t. You just started and none of what I’m going through will splash on you.”
“But what about this partner of yours in the money lending business? Can’t he do this?”
“No, he’s not much for numbers and stuff.”
“But money lending is all about numbers and stuff, Mack.”
“I know, but I never depended on him for that. He’s more like my debt collector; you know, reminding people about their payments when they get a little bit late . . . .”
“Does that mean he’s your ‘muscle’ when you need it, Mack?”
“No, not so much . . . . He’s got money of his own in this and, let’s say . . . has a special interest in getting paid back. Gary, my partner, can be very persuasive since he knows the law. He used to be a paralegal, so he’s very valuable to me.”
“Mack, if this goes on a while, how am I going to get paid?”
“Gary will get your checks to you. And he’ll bring you the receipts for loan payments, deposits, and stuff. He’ll get in touch. Look, he’s a little gruff and rough around the edges, but don’t be put off by him. He’s a good guy.”
Gruff? Rough around the edges? Can’t wait to meet him . . . .
“Mack, you’re making my old job look good. I’m getting nervous over this.”
“Calm down. Don’t go getting all female on me. Look, I need you to help me. I’ll come up with a nice bonus for you when I get through this.”
“All female? What the hell does that mean?” Deciding she wasn’t going to be put down by Mack’s chauvinism, Penny said, “Look, I’ll give it a couple of weeks, Mack. But you’ve got to get this cleared up by then. I don’t need any bullshit.”
“Ok, fair enough. I’m going to count on you. If you do use the cabin, there’s a Tom Henry—he lives on up the road a few mailboxes—who manages the grove for me. If you see anything that looks like it needs attention, go see him. He’s a good guy and will take care of it. You can tell him to drop the expenses off at the cabin and we’ll work out how you can pay him.”
“Sounds like you’ll be out of action for a while, Mack.”
“Nahhh, I’ll get this settled before you know it. Just planning for all contingencies. That’s what makes me a good businessman.”
“Look, I’ll go up there and check it out. But, I’m not making any promises about the cabin, or, for that matter, anything longer than a couple of weeks.”
“Great. I think you’ll like it. It’s yours for as long as you want it. The cabin key is in a cubbyhole of that old roll-top desk I moved into your office. And there’s a key for a new Harley that’s in a little storage room behind the cabin, too, if you want to do some riding. The bike’s key is in there, too. Look, I gotta hang up, the guards are starting to watch me.”
“Bye, Mack.”
“I’ll call you Monday. Sorry about that ‘all female’ crack.”
“I don’t think you are, Mack. Bye.” She hung up.
The next day, Saturday, Penny went to the cabin to check it out. It was a rustic, cute little place that she decided wasn’t too bad and did have the advantage of being much closer to Mack’s Ramona warehouse. And the new Harley Sportster was irresistible. She rode the slick machine up to Julian as a test ride, marveling at its power and handling as it effortlessly climbed the uphill grades and glided through the downhill curves. The downhill runs made her remember her skiing days on the slopes of Mammoth Mountain and Lake Tahoe: the days when her marriage to Bruce was still new and their love felt strong.
She ran across a group of motorcyclists, including a few old friends from her married days, on Julian’s main drag and accepted their invitation to cruise the Sunrise Highway with them. They stopped at the restaurant near the Mount Laguna Lodge for refreshments. Warm remembrances from her time of riding all over Southern California with Bruce and these friends flooded her mind as they sat at a long table, everyone huddled around Penny, asking about how she was and what she was doing these days. On her return ride back to the Starvation Mountain cabin, she second-guessed her decision to jump from a bad job to possibly a worse job with a man who might be a criminal as her new boss. My God, what am I about to do; holing up in a cabin on a remote mountain like a hermit and working in a shack out at the Ramona Airport? I want to be with old friends again. This is crazy, I’m spending tomorrow calling everyone I know looking for leads to a real job.
“Oh . . . hi, Mack. How’s jail?”
“Shitty. Thanks for asking. Did you go to see the cabin?”
“Yes. It’s not too bad. I like being up on the mountain.”
“Are you going to use it?”
“I think I will, for a little while anyway. I told you I’d give this a couple of weeks to see what’s happening with you, so I might as well give myself a mini-vacation on a pretty mountain.”
“Did you find the keys to the bike?”
“Yes, and I took it out for a spin up to Julian. I love it; nice bike.”
“Were the keys where I told you?”
“Yes, in that old desk. I wondered why it was there along with all the new stuff you brought in.”
“It was my dad’s. Sentimental, I guess.”
“Do I need to be able to open that safe?”
“No, you won’t need to get into it. I’m the only one who knows the combination and I want to keep it that way.”
“Fine. By the way, the Harley does make the deal a little more interesting—and I like the idea of spending some time up there with nature.”
“Good, I knew you and your husband were riders, which is why I mentioned the bike. Look, a couple more things: Make sure the steel bars that lock the big roll-up warehouse door are in place. One on each side. Don’t leave it locked with just the padlocks. And make sure you use the double deadbolt locks on the office door when you leave. I want that place locked up tight. Keep the shutters closed, too. And there’s a tool room off to the side of the bike parts area that is to be locked all the time. I have some valuable, hard-to-replace tools from my dad in there.”
“Okay, Mack.”
Mack wasn’t finished. “Nobody but me has the key for it—well the cops actually have it right now, along with my other stuff—so don’t worry about it. And, by the way, there’s a phone up in the cabin that’s turned on. You can’t call me here unless it’s prearranged, but I can contact you up there with it. The number is printed on a little sticker on the handset.”
“Sounds mysterious, Mack. Do I need to be worrying about something?”
“No, sweetie. I’m just very cautious and want to keep my good things safe. Don’t worry. By the way, do you have a cell phone?”
“Sweetie” sent a wave of revulsion through her stomach, and she knew she didn’t want to have him calling her away from the office. “Yes, but I don’t want to give the number out. I only carry it in the car for emergencies,” she lied. “The best way to get me is at the office in Ramo
na or up at that cabin.”
“Want your privacy, I guess. I can understand that. Okay, take good care of things until I get this settled.”
That was the last Penny had heard from Mack by the time, on Saturday, three days later, Jim showed up at the grove next door. She now had a very uneasy feeling about Mack and his businesses. Worrying her life was becoming adrift, she was glad to have met a guy she believed to be a stable, mature man. But she was uncertain about everything now. She’d always been able to manage her life—even after losing her husband—and had held a responsible position for years until bailing on it that day. But now there was a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew that she needed to keep Mack and his deal at arm’s length—and be ready to get out if things got any stranger. My God, I need someone—a rock to hold onto.
Four - Old Friend
“Steve, I’m outa there at the end of March. I’m hanging it up.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not quitting, are you?” Jim’s longtime friend and work associate, Steve Barton, asked. They pulled the little strips from their fortune cookies.
“Retiring. I need to just breathe for a while. I shouldn’t have gone back; my consulting gigs were just fine. I want to walk away from the bullshit and hassles that go with this corporate world. Ha, it says, ‘You will find yourself at the intersection of life and dreams.’”
“What? How can that all be on that little strip? What does that mean?”
“Whatever I want it to. That’s what they all mean. Ambiguity has its advantages.”
“How old are you? Are your finances set?”
“Yep. Been planning on an early retirement for the last year or two. They let me add the last couple of years I’ve worked there to the first twelve, so I get a pretty decent retirement benefit. I’ll be fifty-eight next September 30 and I’m going to take the company’s fifty-five-and-out-early plan. I always said I wanted to be able to quit in my fifties, so now’s the time.”
Starvation Mountain Page 2