Can Am Story

by Oliver Rill

  “You don’t get shit!” He raged. “I’ve only ever thought about you and the business. It didn’t enter my head to imagine you with your beautiful Greek.”

  “We’re friends!”

  “I can see how you look at him. Do you think I can’t see it? Do you think I’m dumb? You sent me away. Away to my friends and family as though I didn’t have a life. But I was good enough for you before he came, wasn’t I? And now he’s there and you don’t want to know me.”

  “That’s not true!” I was at a loss. He was drunk, if I did talk to him, would he listen? Was he reasoning enough to be able to understand what I was saying with any maturity? I doubted it.

  “Matt, I have been missing you all week. I felt really lonely.” Matt blinked at me. Gradually understanding seemed to permeate the alcohol fug he was in. He threw his arms around me and began to howl.

  “You are such an ass-hole, do you know that? You hurt me so much.” His tears soaked my shoulder as he sobbed and pulled me closer. “You know what the worst thing was? I drove back to my home after the girls, because I wanted you and I knew that He was here.”

  “It’s ok, Matt.” I crooned, “Don’t cry.”

  “Can I stay here tonight with you or are you going to send me away again?” Matt drew away to look at my face wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. I looked at his tear stained face. “Where is he anyway?”

  “He’s went for a drink with the builders who are doing Venice. Of course you can stay here.”

  “But I have to go before I upset your plans for Sunday, huh?”

  “You can stay, Matt.”

  He put his arm around me, gulped a couple of times and slowly calmed himself. I gave him an aspirin and laid him on my bed. He fell asleep as his head sank into the pillow. I looked down at his sleeping form and a worried frown crossed my brow. I really should have listened to my instincts on this.

  While I waited for him to wake the next morning, I propped myself up on my elbow to look at him as he slept. His breathing was calm and even. He was beautiful and peaceful. I wondered about his hangover when he did wake up. I decided to get up and sit by the pool, maybe have a swim while I was waiting for the coffee to brew and the guys to rise.

  Aristo was first. I had woken him by splashing as I dived in the pool. He looked like he was suffering from an overenthusiastic ‘night before’, but said he was fine. He got a bottle of water and a coffee, asked what was for breakfast. I suggested pancakes.

  “Yeah, I suppose that would be cool. Whaddya say we go somewhere for breakfast?”

  “Matt’s still asleep.”

  “Oh? Matt is here? I didn’t see him. Oh – I see. Did he sleep in your room?”

  “I told you it was complicated. I think I was understating it actually.”

  “And did you …”

  “He was totally drunk when he arrived yesterday. We did not.”

  “But we will!” Hailed a voice from the French windows. I turned to see Matt outlining himself against the doorframe in his shorts. He kissed me and took a running leap into the pool.

  “Ooops! Ok. I’m coming!” And Aristo followed his example.

  I chuckled and fetched another coffee for Matt, placing it on the table between Aristo’s and mine.

  “Come in!” Called Matt. And I followed suit. We larked about in the water, splashing and ducking each other. Matt was especially tactile. Once out of the water, he toweled me down, then removed his wet shorts and with a towel wrapped around his middle sat next to me on my sunbed with his arm around my shoulders. He either wanted to show me that he was back, or define his territory to Aristo. Maybe both.

  A little later Matt steered Aristo and me through Hollywood to a diner that he knew. He was right, we were each served a massive pile of pancakes with fresh fruit and lashings of maple syrup. It was the perfect start to a lovely day, in which we visited the gym, dined in a really trendy restaurant where the stars hung out and then chilled at the pool with a good night drink and ended with the best of all, Matt and I snuggled down together in my bed for the night.

  “But I am not gay. Ok?”

  “I know. Good night, Matt.”

  The endless round of interviews continued into the next week. I still hadn’t finished them all. Some positions I had wanted filled quickly and made a snap decision. Melvin was one of those. He was black and slim and peered at you through silver rimmed glasses. Everything about him screamed bookkeeper. Doug as the finance expert had also been at the interview and had asked the technical questions, which he said he had passed with flying colors. He had also had all the candidates vetted. What exactly ‘vetting’ was, I wasn’t sure, but I was sure that I had also been ‘vetted’ before Ad had made me this terrifyingly monstrous gift of Can Am.

  While we were still at JB Homes, Melvin and I squashed into my office and I made sure that all of my meetings were held elsewhere until we could move. I met my supply contacts in the diner around the corner, the press in a local hotel and drove to the airport itself to sample the pralines and sign the contract on them.

  “These pralines come directly from Switzerland. The manufacturer created a recipe with the ingredients you wanted and likes them so much, he wants to know if he can sell them elsewhere!”

  In the immediate vicinity of the airport, between freight buildings, car rentals, warehouses, logistics terminals, I had arrived at LSG and received my chocolate samples in a glass-encased office located in a warehouse, where fork-lift trucks loaded with pallets scooted in and out.

  He had brought a variety of chocolate shapes with varying packaging samples from which I needed single items to distribute among passengers and something that could be sold on board. I went for a box of four round pralines in a simple but smart box with a slim, dark red ribbon and a single round praline with pretty cellophane with dark red flecks (that I was told was stylized Asters) showing the dark chocolate beneath. I made sure he was clear that I didn’t care what he did with the rest, but my samples and this recipe was to be exclusive to Can Am. Then I busied myself with the new catering orders that I had decided on with the team’s help.

  I exited the warehouse with a sigh of relief, feeling the fresh breeze on my cheek and the constant noise abated the further away from the warehouse I moved. I went to see Aristo in the building site that was our lower part of our future offices in Venice. We discussed the improvements that were planned for the coming week and whether he would be able to motivate the workers to finish earlier than they had planned as I postponed my return to the office. Then realizing how silly that was, I made a snap decision and drove home with Aristo following in his car ringing Matt on the way to touch base with the office and let him know that I was on the way home.

  “Would you come over to me this evening? I want to take you in my arms and drown in your eyes.”

  “I’ll take you at your word, my friend!” He retorted. “I’m on my way home too. Everything is on hold here. We’re waiting for the move and for the first plane to be delivered. I’ll see you soon, you poet, you!”

  We all met at my house and jogged through the neighborhood for a while, down narrow streets that slaked their way up the hills, past high fences lined with pine trees. Although my mind buzzed with my plans to change the airline from an old man’s hobby to a thriving business, I felt a freedom and peace running with Matt and Aristo that had been missing this week. I had never really been into sport, but now it was like a blessing, being able to get rid of all the ballast that my head had been carrying, being able to breathe fresh air and just empty my mind.

  Showered, with a bottle of water in hand each, we congregated beside the pool. It felt like we had gelled into a band of three musketeers. Well sort of.

  “Oli, I don’t know if I want to stay here,” Aristo had a pensive look on his face.

  “’Risto, there are loads of reasons to stay, but one thing is clear. You have to want to. If you don’t like it here, then there is no point! I’ll be real sorry to see you go, but if tha
t’s what you want, I respect your decision.”

  “Are you mad? You’ve got the best boss in the world, you have sumptuous accommodation here, a real cool car. What more do you want?” Matt

  “Ehm, sorry Matt. That’s my car.” I objected.

  “I’ve got a boutique in Greece and a family waiting for me. And I haven’t a clue what I am doing here.”

  “Your boutique? Hire someone to sell your rags for you!” I noticed with astonishment that Matt was acting as cheerleader for him.

  “Do you fancy interviewing a couple of stewardesses?” I asked innocently. I really wasn’t looking forward to that and there were a load of shortlists for it. Actually I had thought of giving it to the technical department, but Steve would only help with the Pilot interviews, he had far too much to do for anything else. And he was right. He had more important jobs.

  “Ooooh, yes, that would be cool.” He grinned.

  “We’ll do the first interview together, then you take it from there, ok?”

  The next day we drove into the office together. Our own particular brand of the three musketeers. I was getting really antsy about not having my own place and having to sit on the edge of someone else’s desk all the time, because Melvin had spread out over mine. Aristo and I sat at Matt’s desk looking at applications. I let Aristo look through them and asked how he was going to sort them. He listed his criteria which seemed quite robust to me, too.

  At lunchtime the three of us went to LSG to sample the menus we had ordered as a final act in our catering project. We were quite happy with how it had gone and only had to make a few comments on the portion size. Then we moved on to the project Venice offices. Debbie rang back to arrange a walk through. As we only had one car between us, we all went.

  Debbie had some good suggestions that I could certainly take on. She had an idea of the type of things I liked and how I did things, which made it all much easier. She liked the new logo and was very sparing with the outfitting suggestions. Very clean lines and stylish, but not uncomfortably so. It would be mainly white with a light grey carpet and dark red accessories to match the logo.

  “As soon as the builders are out, we can clean and start furnishing the place. We’ve got everything in store, except for a few bits. About two days should do it, I think, no more.”

  Matt’s father also reckoned on finishing about two days earlier, so it all came together rather nicely. We would move in Monday and even had a bit of leeway in case anything went wrong. I still found it hard to visualize these great empty, dusty rooms as a busy modern office. With Debbie’s help, I could see the furnishing fitting in, but the atmosphere and buzz of a fully populated office was just not yet there.

  “Good. Let’s do that then, people. We pack up everything on Friday and the move happens over the weekend, while we are in San Francisco.”

  “Who’s going to check that it’s all happening?” Aristo asked.

  “Matt I don’t know that I can do without you that long. Both days? Saturday and Sunday?” I repeated doubtfully.

  “I’ve got a life you know!” Matt retorted sarcastically.

  “And you look after Oliver in Gay Town. D’ya hear?”

  “Are you officially together now then?” Aristo asked carefully.

  “I am not gay. I just don’t want Oliver to get into bad company with some idiot down there. Understand?”

  “Okay. So as long as he is intelligent, he is ok?”

  “Just bring him back in one piece. Do we understand each other?” Matt looked at Aristo sternly from under his brow. Aristo gave up the pretense and chuckled. He said he would follow me around like a shadow, which all left me feeling a bit like a wayward child.

  “Matt, I’ll make it up to you, ok? We’ll fly away somewhere together, ok?”

  “As long as I have space in my diary, sure. We can do that.”

  Amid the excited hubbub of packing and under a promise of closing at two p.m. to pack and disconnect the computers, Melvin alone was sunk up to his ears into his world of figures. He needed to speak to me and asked me to step into my office.

  The run the night before through the Hollywood Hills and stiffened all my leg muscles. I wondered why I had bought such a beautiful car, if I was going to do all this running on my own two feet. I limped into the office. Melvin was concerned with the funding and financial structure of the business. He had received a large sum from the Bahamas, but couldn’t pin point the source or what their classification should be. If we were audited, they would be difficult to explain. Just as awkward would be clarifying why some salaries, including mine, were paid out of JB Homes. There were also some false booking of investments.

  “Why the hell did you buy an old banger like that? Who told you, you should buy a used car for the company? No one does that!” H exploded at the end of the list. I tried to explain what I could, the rest he would have to talk through with Doug.

  “What should I do about the used car?” I asked with trepidation.

  “You’ll have to part exchange it for something new. Brand new! With tax receipts and the ability to book it against the tax returns for the year. With a warranty. Just like a normal business. And you will have to get rid of the car you have now. Either you buy it from the company and use it privately, or you use it in part exchange and drive a company car, just like normal businesses do. There are just too many abnormalities in the books and we don’t want to run up against the IRS.”

  I promised to think about the Jaguar, but Matt’s Lincoln could be part exchanged with no problem.

  “The only concern you should have is which color car to buy, understand? And is there a rental agreement for your house in Hollywood? You can rent it or buy it. No one will believe the company is giving away a house. It would be better to rent it, because we can set it as a solid asset. Shall we say $500? Don’t get me wrong. I just want to do it by the book.”

  I was actually glad that Melvin was on my case about this. He was proving his worth and keeping the business out of trouble. I didn’t actually want a new car. The Jag had never been a especially important to me, it wasn’t spacious enough and set so close to the road that I got the feeling occasionally I could drive under the SUVs passing me. I didn’t like the new models of Jaguar that were appearing on the market. I didn’t want to end up with the same type of car as Matt and look like twins either. Anyhow, we had completely different tastes in cars. My car should make a status statement as the boss. We weren’t really into that equality in the workplace thing. A Rolls would be a bit over the top for a small airline and send the wrong message. Nor would a Mercedes S-Class, an Audi or even a BMW really work either. I couldn’t really come to America and demand money from them to spend it on cars from my own country that would be wrong.

  If only the Tesla wasn’t so ugly. It was the leading EV on the market here and would send the right message. I quite liked the hailed new Lincoln Continental, but it wasn’t on the market yet. Somehow, the Jag had been perfect. Classic, up market, not too posh. The Maybach would fit the bill, but was German again. There was only one possible compromise. The Range Rover. It was a rough terrain vehicle really, but the new models were much trendier and even if it wasn’t so classic, it wasn’t German and not overly in the unaffordable zone.

  “Ok I’ll buy the Jaguar privately and the firm can get me a Range Rover.”

  Melvin levelled his gaze at me and removed his glasses.

  “The firm will charge you $2000 for the Jaguar and you can arrange to buy the Range Rover yourself. You should think about hiring a driver too. The insurance has already asked questions about that.”

  “I think I can drive my own car”

  “I’m sure you can, but as the business grows the insurance company will insist that you have a driver, just so that you know. When a certain overturn amount is reached, and you are still the only person leading the company, if you have an accident and die, the company is at risk.”

  “Lady Diana had a driver and look what happened to
her!”

  “You can argue that one out with the insurance. I’m just doing my job.”

  I herded my musketeers together and we knocked off. I told them in the car what Melvin had said about the cars and Aristo suggested we go immediately to Land Rover and take one on a test drive. We got a red one with beige seats. I didn’t like the color combination, but it drove like a dream. The seats were like armchairs and you sat so high on an air suspension that you felt as though you were king of the road, sitting in his royal throne. There was also all sorts of gimmicky facilities in the car to play with. Another plus!

  We sat with the dealer after and asked about all sorts of possible and impossible extras and eventually he gave us a special price of $120,000. He also just happened to have a car there and that I could pick up on Tuesday.

  At the Lincoln dealer we had to do it differently. We test drove the MKZ that they had in stock, but Matt would have to bring his car in and leave it there as a deposit for a part exchange. It would be ready Tuesday though.

  For the weekend we were one car down. I asked Matt to drive us to the airport in the morning and pick us up, then he could use the Jaguar.

  I took the receipts and bundled them together with those for the Land Rover and we left. I didn’t go running with the others that night, but sat learning my speech off by heart.

  We were the first on the plane in the morning. Rebecca had a smart grey suit on and looked professional and efficient. She asked me if everything was ok and reminded me not to go off-script. She also asked Aristo not to say anything unless absolutely necessary.

  The brand new Boeing stood separate from the others in a spot I had requested from Alan Lorenzi for today. I wanted a good solo photo opportunity for the press for it and not one with the competition showing in the background. Rebecca had two camera teams ready one for LAX and one for San Francisco and in flight shots on board. We were using the opportunity to gather material for future advertising and a marketing film.