by Cooper, Doug
Growing up, you were always a smart, independent, resourceful kid. I was proud of that. But as you got older, I started to worry about that and the direction it might take you. When you got into that trouble your senior year, I saw you going down the wrong path and I did what I thought was right to get you back on track. Once you turned things around, I thought about making amends, but things were working, so I didn’t want to mess with it. The more time that passed, and the more you excelled, the harder it became for me to apologize. People thought it was my pride or my stubbornness, but it was really my love for you and the desire I had for you to be a good man.
Maybe it was selfish of me to leave like this, but once again I just listened to my gut, and it told me it was time to go. Staying around longer to see you when you got here would only complicate everything and make it that much harder on you. The true fact of the matter is life without your mother was not much of a life for me. She gave my life meaning and purpose. Without her, there would never be enough. I hope you can understand that because you have also found that in your wife. From what your mother told me, I think you have. I wish you all the happiness your mother and I shared together.
I know you will have questions about the will and the people in my life since your mother passed. Please trust me that they are good people and respect what I have specified in the will. I know with as good of a lawyer as you are, you could probably challenge and poke holes in it, but I’m asking you to accept it. These people have been here when I needed them, and I want to be there for them. Me not making you executor and not leaving everything to you, our sole heir, is not representative of my feelings for you. It’s merely because I know you do not need it and it can be put to better use. Please also respect our burial wishes. Your mother and I both wanted to be cremated and our ashes scattered here in Vegas. You are welcome to join in as much or little of the proceedings as you would like.
I can leave this life in peace because of the man you have become. There is nothing left for me to do. My faithful devotion to your mother and you are my proudest achievements.
Love,
Dad
Dow Jones Close: 17,983.07
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Date: Tuesday, December 31, 2014
Dow Jones Open: 17,987.66
The flame blasted into the skirt of the balloon, warming the air of the half-filled envelope stretched across the empty field. With each thrust of propane, the envelope swelled in size, raising it off the ground and lifting the basket toward its upright position.
Most people were heading to the city on this, the busiest, most festive evening of the year in Vegas, but Max, Les, Penny, Crystal, and Hughie had gone the opposite way, to an empty field fifteen minutes to the west. It had been a rushed twenty-four hours before Hughie was scheduled to leave and the New Year’s holiday commenced, but as was always true in Vegas, an express service was available. It required a few extra forms and dollars, but it was doable.
What no one had realized during the preceding months was that Bill had done a lot more than just talk about his death; he had planned for it, and not just with the will. He had actually scheduled his cremation with the funeral home to the point that they were expecting the call. How he ever knew for sure that he would pass the night that he did was a mystery…except for Crystal. But even the others had an inkling and knew it could’ve been solved with an autopsy if they really wanted to find out. Not every mystery needed to be solved though. In the end it didn’t matter if his meticulous planning had included direct actions to ensure the scheduled departure. The result would not have changed.
With everything planned and taken care of in advance, Bill was picked up and cremated the same day he died. A short service was held the following morning at the funeral home, which also included Darlene’s ashes, since a service had not been performed when she passed.
Crystal sang, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” by Gerry and the Pacemakers, one of Bill and Darlene’s favorite songs, according to Hughie. They played it so much when he was growing up that they wore out the album. When records went to tapes, then to CDs, it was one of the few that they rebought each time. Hughie performed the eulogy, speaking mostly about how Bill and Darlene met and their life together, which was nice for the others to hear because they really didn’t know much about Darlene and that part of Bill’s life, since he didn’t like to talk about it.
As specific as Bill had been about all the other details, he didn’t really establish where he wanted the ashes to be disposed. He had only stipulated that they be scattered to the west in Red Rock Canyon, where they had watched the sun set so many times together. It was Max who proposed, “Why don’t we do it over Red Rock Canyon?”
Crystal said, “Let’s just stick to the plan and drive out and pick a spot.”
“We would be sticking to the plan,” Max said. “We’re just improving upon it and giving them a more honorable burial.”
Penny said, “But will a plane or helicopter let us open the door and scatter the ashes?”
“A hot air balloon would,” Max said. “I know a guy who I’ve used to do some advertising. He would definitely take us up.”
Penny shook her head, laughing. “Only you would have a hot air balloon guy.”
Max said, “Seriously, what better tribute could we pay than scattering the ashes floating above Vegas on New Year’s Eve?”
Crystal deferred to Hughie. “What do you think?
He smiled. “I think they would’ve loved the idea.”
In the field, the hot air balloon, drifted upward, stretching the lines connected to the basket still anchored to the ground. The pilot pulled open the propane valve, shooting a final blast into the balloon. He nodded at Max. “We’re all set. Hop in.”
One by one, they climbed up the foot holes in the woven wicker basket and swung first one leg then the other over the side. Hughie lifted Max to help him over the side then handed over the rectangular green marble companion urn containing both Bill’s and Darlene’s ashes.
The pilot, in his fifties with silver hair, a bushy mustache, and sagging cheeks, released the lines and opened the blast valve, lifting them off the ground. With each burst of flame they climbed higher in the sky, rocking gently in the basket.
The pilot said, “We’re climbing to about a thousand feet and will check the air. Plan to take you over toward Rainbow Peak.”
Everyone was quiet, watching the objects on the ground become smaller and smaller. Cars raced in both directions along the I-15. The skyline of the strip flattened into its surroundings. Bands of red sandstone capped the upper portion of the peaks in Red Rock Canyon. The pilot pointed out Blue Diamond Hill, Mount Wilson, and their destination, Rainbow Peak. To climb higher, he blasted fire into the envelope, and to descend, released the parachute valve, searching for the right air current to take them the way they needed to go. Drifting northwest across the valley, they passed above the affluent suburb of Summerlin, named after Howard Hughes’s mother. They traveled across Calico Basin toward Icebox Canyon. Turtlehead Mountain was on the right. Mount Wilson, Rainbow Peak, and Bridge Mountain were straight ahead.
“I think this is a good spot.” The pilot opened the parachute valve to drop down and hold their position. He said, “I don’t want to get too deep into the canyon. The closer we get to the mountains, the trickier the wind gets.”
Hughie picked up the urn from between his legs on the basket floor, cradling it under his right arm. He turned to Les. “Could you say a few words?”
Les nodded. “I think Ecclesiastes 3 is fitting.” He unfolded a paper from his pocket and put a hand on the urn. “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time
to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace…” His words mixed with the wind, blanketing those in the basket with comfort. Standing between Hughie and Penny, Crystal reached over and took hold of his free left hand and grasped Penny’s with her other. Max interlocked his fingers and bowed his head. Les concluded the reading. “…All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the human spirit rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth? So I saw that there is nothing better for a person than to enjoy their work, because that is their lot. For who can bring them to see what will happen after them?” He folded the paper and put it back in his pocket. “Darlene and Bill have returned to dust. In their lives, they knew all of these described times together and experienced eternity in each other’s hearts. They were tested, and they were rewarded, finding satisfaction in their toil. And while their earthly lives may have ended, and they will not see what will happen after them, they carry on in each of us by how they touched and shaped our lives.” He lifted his hand to make the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
The others murmured amens.
Hughie propped the urn up on the edge of the basket and opened the lid. Moving over to the left side, he said, “Do you guys want to give me a hand?” Crystal moved to the right, Penny next to her, then Les, followed by Max. Hughie said, “On three. One, two, three.” They tipped the urn over the side. A thick stream of ashes flowed, then fanned out over the canyon, blowing east straight back toward Vegas, disappearing into nothing.
Penny and Crystal embraced Hughie, the cross-breeze drying the tears on their faces. Les rested his hand on Max’s shoulder, both continuing to stare back toward the city in silence.
Dow Jones Close: 17,823.07
Chapter Sixty
Date: Thursday, January 2, 2015
Dow Jones Open: 17,823.07
With the suddenness and emotion of everything leading up to New Year’s, everyone needed New Year’s Day to recover. Even though their situation was different than all of the hung-over partygoers’, they all spent the day in a similar catatonic state, evaluating the flurry of events that led to their current realities. Hughie had caught the red-eye home New Year’s Eve to be with his family on the holiday. He planned to come back the following week to go through Bill and Darlene’s belongings with Crystal and decide what to keep and what to donate.
After what happened, Crystal couldn’t bring herself to stay at Bill’s. She had always felt like a guest there, and with him gone, she felt like an intruder. Once Hughie came back, and they had gone through everything, maybe it would be different. If not, she would have to sell the place. In the interim, Penny invited her to stay at her house.
She and Penny spent the New Year’s Day in the living room, Penny on the couch, Crystal on the loveseat, eating pizza, ice cream, and whatever other junk food they craved that could be delivered, which included just about everything in Vegas. On TV were the college football bowl games. Penny tried to explain the rules to Crystal, who had never watched an entire game in her life. That day she watched four.
Les, of course, had his duties at the Oasis, which the others volunteered to help him with, but he declined. He knew everyone needed some time and space to process what had happened. Fortunately, the Oasis had grown to the point that there was enough consistent help so even he was able to delegate and step away from time to time.
Max spent the day bedridden, but it wasn’t because of illness or injury. After the balloon ride, being the active member of the community he was, he had a full slate of events and parties to attend. It wasn’t that he was any less upset or affected by what had happened; he just dealt with things differently. Emotion didn’t have residual value with him. He felt what he felt, then he moved on. Whereas Penny and Crystal abated their grief with grease and sugar, Max won the affection of an attractive partygoer at Mayor Goodman’s New Year’s Eve gala, and the two of them celebrated until the early morning, spending the rest of the day in varying states of consciousness and arousal.
After the formal and requested funeral rites had been performed, and they all took their own personal time, they agreed they also needed to come together and send Bill off with a wake in a way he would approve of but was too humble to suggest in his planning: at the blackjack table.
Everyone met at the El Cortez and filled the open spots at my table one by one as people left either on their own or, after learning why the others were gathering, moved to another table. Once all were in their usual positions, they each threw in a twenty-five-dollar chip for Bill’s buy-in, playing his hand exactly as he would’ve: minimum bet and never wavering from basic strategy. The mood was cheerful but somber, like everyone had just climbed into a car for a long drive. The excitement and anticipation were there, just buried underneath a layer of uncertainty. Nobody knew exactly how to act. For people who knew each other as well as they did, they were acting more like strangers.
“How about a round of drinks to get this party started?” Max said, stopping a cocktail server on her way by. “Can you bring me a cognac—you know what? Better make that two.” He pointed at Les. “A hot tea for him. A Ketel rocks for blondie there.” He looked at Bill’s seat, which had been leaned up against the table to indicate a player gone but coming back. “A Miller Lite for our friend who stepped away, and for you…” He extended his hand toward Crystal.
“I’m good with club soda,” she said.
We played several more hands. The waitress came by with the drinks. Max tipped her two green chips. He held up one of his cognacs. “To not what we lose, but what we gain.” The others lifted their drinks and touched glasses in the middle of the table.
The game went on: winning and losing, up and down, five-card Charlies, backdoor Kennies, hard twelves, soft eighteens, mothers-in-law. Nothing was really new. Just like nothing was really that out of the ordinary about any of the people seated there. Oh sure, Max had made a few more bucks than most people who have pulled up a chair at my table over the years, but it hardly compared to so many of the whales who visit Vegas, regularly betting five, ten, fifty, a hundred thousand dollars a hand; Les was a compassionate, charitable man sacrificing his life to help those less fortunate, but nonprofit organizations around the world work tirelessly to feed, clothe, treat, counsel, educate, and shelter people in need; Penny was a shrewd, driven reporter with a nose for a good story, but countless journalists were churning out quality pieces every day to fill our twenty-four hour news cycle; Bill was a kind and caring man who had dedicated his life to protecting others and ended up alone, but there were retirement homes and communities all through Vegas filled with people who had much less and had lost even more; and Crystal was a beautiful and talented performer, but girls just like her arrive every day with hopes and dreams and get chewed up and spit back out by the tough lifestyle and breaks of Vegas show business. Were these five good people? Sure. Better than most? Probably. But what made them unique and why their stories have stuck with me was not what they did, but how they did it. They looked beyond their needs to create, to entertain, to protect, to inspire, to serve, and just helped each other. Their failures were their own, but their success was shared. They figured out that life is just a collection of days. Some are positive and some negative. It’s not a linear progression. There are surges and slides, growth and decay, gains and losses. Most important thing is that, over time, people do more good than bad, and they invest in each other.
I dealt the cards around the horn: a thirteen to Crystal, an eleven for Bill, a seventeen for Penny, nineteen for Les, and two ladies for Max, all against my four of diamonds. Max looked at his pair, wiggling his fing
ers over his chips.
Recognizing his temptation to split, Crystal said, “Don’t do it.” He just smiled. She waved her hand over her thirteen. “I’ll stay.” She reached over into Bill’s stack of chips and pushed another five to double down. Holding up one finger, just like Bill would’ve done, she said, “Facedown, please.”
Concealing its identity as directed, I tucked an additional card under Bill’s hand.
Penny declined any help for her seventeen. “I’m good.”
Les stayed with nineteen.
Max counted out ten chips into a separate stack and nudged them forward.
Crystal said, “Once a dick, always a dick.”
Max laughed, pulling back the stack. “Geez, I’m just joking. Where’s your sense of humor? You act like someone died or something.” He looked over at Bill’s chair. “Sorry, Bill. No offense.” Penny giggled. Max looked at the others. “Too soon?” Crystal rolled her eyes. Max formed an X with his fingers over his cards. “Nothing for me. I’m staying.”
I flipped over my card to reveal an ace of clubs. “Dealer has five or fifteen.” The next card was an ace of spades. “Dealer has six or sixteen. Player would’ve had twenty-one if he split.” Next card was a king of diamonds. “Dealer still has sixteen. Player would’ve had twenty on the second hand.” I pulled the next card from the shoe, rubbing it facedown. I turned it over, revealing a six of hearts.
Twenty-two. Bust.
“Everybody wins.”
Dow Jones Close: 17,832.99
Readers Guide
The main characters of The Investment Club span the ages of 28-70 and come from diverse backgrounds. Why were they able to bridge such gaps and become so close? Who was your favorite? If you could have a conversation with any of them, which one would it be and what would you say?