Jamie and I agree to meet this Friday at four o’clock. Jamie says that will give us plenty of time to get everything situated before dinner. Friday is two days away. Two days to sit around with over twenty million dollars in my bank account.
After setting up the meeting with Jamie, I mosey out back and sit on my diving board with my feet dangling over the ninety-two-degree water. I pop in a cigarette and find that I left my Zippo inside. Dammit. When I’m making money again, I think I’ll hire a butler. I have a small house staff, but they mostly just clean. What I need is somebody who can go get my Zippo when I leave it inside. Seems like the type of job for a butler. And if I’m buying a butler, I might as well buy a Batmobile too. No half-measures.
Having returned from retrieving my lighter, I lie on the diving board, light a smoke, and drift in and out of sleep. I can hear waves below beating against the cliffs. Sounds from the ocean are the most soothing sounds on earth. Probably because we came from the ocean (life, that is). I’m not very religious, but I’ve heard God started it all in the sea because he was a fisher of men. Or something like that. I wonder if when he hooked women he just threw them back. Catch and release or something.
The diving board starts to itch my back, so I strip down and slink into the pool. I float over to an inflatable doll that somebody left from a party and slide it under my back so I can stay afloat without any effort. In all my wiggling my cigarette dipped in the water, so I drift back to the diving board and light another. Hours waft by without a single movement. Even when I pee, I just lay there without stirring. My ears are underwater, so I only hear the occasional muffled seagull squawk and the whir of the earth. Floating in this lovely place, soaking in this bliss, it seems as if life couldn’t get any better. But that’s wrong. Floating in a pool in Monte Carlo is better than floating in a pool in Malibu. Or better yet, floating in a pool on a yacht parked on the coast of Monte Carlo.
From where I float, on my left I look over the edge of the infinity pool and across the Pacific, which, forty or fifty feet below, massages the rocks that support my piece of Malibu. To my right, I can see into the ground level of my house, and I can see my piano. Memories of Jamie playing on our first night together consume my thoughts. It was incredible. The night was perfect. So, why was Jamie drifting away? How in the hell could anybody not want to be with me? It sounds conceited to ask, but the question stumps me. I’m sure everybody thinks they are irresistible, but, in all honesty, it’s actually the case with me. Yet, I just can’t land Jamie. I don’t want to bring it up on Friday because I don’t want to seem needy or desperate. But I have to do something. Maybe things will change when I get a place in Monte Carlo. I can’t wait that long, though.
The next couple of days I spend in roughly the same way. I invite Riley over for late-night sex on Wednesday, and on Thursday I almost buy a French Bulldog. But other than that I just relax, go on drives, and watch Netflix.
On Friday I pull into Green Mountain’s parking garage a few minutes early—traffic was lighter than I expected. The elevator takes me to the forty-fifth floor and when the doors slide open I step out into the familiar sights of construction work, but I don’t hear any hammering or drilling. It looks like nobody has lifted a hammer in months.
Jamie is waiting for me in the reception area. “Caish! Welcome back. It has been too long.”
“Hi Jamie, how are you?”
“I am doing really well, thank you. How are you, Caish? Excited?”
“Yeah, definitely. Little nervous, but mostly excited.”
“Good, it’s a big day. Let’s go to my office.” Jamie leads the way.
“When is your construction going to be finished?”
“What’s that?”
“I said when are they going to be done with the construction?”
“Oh, yeah sorry about that. Longshoreman’s strike or something. Nothing to worry about.”
Jamie’s office hasn’t changed in the months since my first visit. I plop down into the same black chair I sat in last time and look at Jamie. Jamie pours two glasses of Scotch.
“Where is everybody?” I ask.
“It’s late on a Friday afternoon, I let everybody leave early. That is one of the perks, as you know, of working for yourself. To celebrate our growth I’ve been closing the office at noon every Friday for the past year or so.”
“Hm.”
Jamie leaned forward, “Caish, check your Green Mountain app. Just have a look.”
I pulled out my phone and opened the app. Nothing out of the ordinary, just more green lines and triangles. More money made.
“Am I supposed to be seeing something?” I ask.
“Only that you have made over a million dollars since your first investment just a few months ago. Do you see that?” Jamie is pointing at my phone, “Right there on top. See those numbers?”
Sure enough, I have made over a million already.
“I understand if you’re nervous, Caish. And if you can’t trust me and Green Mountain, maybe you’d be better taking your money somewhere else. But I can guarantee you that you will not be making nearly the amount of money with any other firm.” Jamie had a good point. I am feeling anxious, but the money is really my primary concern.
Jamie went on: “Fear and uncertainty are what keep the poor from making the kind of money we make. They are so afraid of failure that they never try. What if Steve Jobs had taken a job as a salesperson with Microsoft instead of starting Apple? What if he let his fears get the better of him? I’ll tell you one thing, Caish, he would not have bought that hundred million-dollar yacht. Let alone changed the world. You just have to ask yourself, are you going to let natural feelings of apprehension keep you from making tens of millions of dollars?” Jamie took a sip of Scotch and looked at me with a look of genuine concern. “You already have proof that Green Mountain will make you rich. Don’t let a few nerves stop you from getting your place in Monte Carlo.”
“You’re right,” I reply, “what do you think I came down here to do?”
“Oh, I know. Sorry if that came off wrong. I’m just sensing some nerves on your part, and I wanted to respond to that. You’re being vigilant. That’s one of the things I love about you. You are always keeping an eye on the details.”
“Yeah. Okay we don’t have to keep talking about it,” I say, “let’s get down to business.”
Then, after a few phone calls and verifications, Jamie gives me the account number to which I am to wire my twenty-three million dollars. Jamie walks me through the different accounts that my money will go into and specifies exactly how the funds will be diversified. We set up an income plan where my interest will pay me $200,000 a month for the first two years, then $350,000 a month every month after that. Green Mountain’s conservative estimation is that within ten years I will have well over two hundred million dollars. At that point I can take out fifty million to live on, and let the other one hundred and fifty million keep making interest. By the time I reach retirement age, that one hundred and fifty mil’ will have grown into several billion dollars. Several billion dollars. Jamie shows me the math a few times in simple terms to make sure I understand it all. After a few more signatures, Jamie drives us to the bank to make the transfer. The bank’s top brass show up for the transfer, and I sign a few more pieces of paper. Then the bank transfers the money. My bank account now has $2,102,313.03 in it, and my total Green Mountain investment is $35,689,917.97.
“Congratulations, Caish! This is huge. Now, let’s go celebrate.” Jamie motions toward the door.
We shake the bankers’ hands, offer a few more pleasantries, then hop in Jamie’s BMW and head for WP24 in the Ritz Carlton. On the way over, Jamie is gripping my hand quite tightly.
“Jamie, you seem nervous.”
“Not at all,” Jamie replies, “quite the opposite. You must be misreading my excitement.”
“In either case, could you loosen your grip? My fingers are starting to tingle.”
“Oh! Sorry.
I didn’t notice.” Jamie says, letting up. After a brief silence, Jamie adds, “It’s just that, with your investment the entire firm stands to make a lot of money. You, of course, will make the most, but all of us at Green Mountain will benefit from your investment. We have had a few other big investments this year, and I am thrilled about where the firm is heading. We are going to have a very good year. So I’m just excited, that’s all.”
“You’re not alone,” I respond, gazing out of the passenger window. “After years of working toward my financial goals, I’m finally about to accomplish them. In a few years I’ll be able to buy a Bugatti Chiron, a few years after that I’ll buy that place in Monte Carlo, and then, at last, I will buy my own yacht.”
Jamie smiles and gives me a sideways glance, “Tell me about the yacht.”
“Have you ever seen the yacht Steve Jobs built? I think it’s called Venus or something.”
“Ooooh yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s so minimal and perfect. That’s the design you’re thinking?”
“Yeah, except mine will be black.”
“Classy,” Jamie says softly, “but, that’s a pretty pricey yacht.”
“Not when you’re a billionaire.”
“Ah, very true, Caish. Wow, what an exciting time. This is really great.”
I give Jamie more details about the yacht and then about my place in Monte Carlo. When we arrive at the Ritz Carlton, a valet takes care of the car and we ride the elevator up to the twenty-fourth floor. WP24 is chic, low-lit, and filled with some of the finest citizens in Los Angeles. The floor space is huge, and the ceilings are high, yet there’s a coziness to the place. The outside walls are floor to ceiling glass, giving the restaurant a sweeping view of the Los Angeles skyline, which, at the moment, is warmly lit by a tangerine sunset. A piano player is filling the room with a soft melody, and the guests’ conversations join in a low murmur—as if most of them are discussing hushed mafia operations.
Jamie arranged for us to have a table next to a window wall, and for a little while after we are shown to our seats, we stare out at the skyline in silence. I’ve never been sure why the settlers of this city named it Los Angeles. I don’t speak Spanish, but I know it means “The Angels.” Why name a city “The Angels” instead of just “Heaven”?
“Jamie,” I break our silence, “why do you think the settlers of this city named it Los Angeles?”
“Hm. Good question.”
A server approaches our table with waters and Jamie orders us a bottle of wine with a name that I can’t pronounce. Jamie also orders lobster spring rolls to give us something to snack on while we peruse the menus.
“Maybe the settlers saw angels here when they first arrived,” Jamie answers.
“You don’t think they were referring to themselves?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I say, “maybe they thought they were angels for having established such an important place. Like, they were angels bringing the rest of the world a gift from heaven.”
“Maybe,” Jamie says, “or maybe it’s just angel ridden. We could always Google it.”
“Nah, let’s not get our phones out. I just want to experience this. This view. This dinner. This night—a night I’m sure we’ll think back on for the rest of our lives.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Jamie says, raising a glass, “it calls for a toast. To your bravery in investing, to your ambition in living, and to the rest of your wealthy life.”
“Our wealthy lives,” I correct. “I want you to be there too Jamie.”
We drink to the toast. The wine tastes sweet, almost like dried cherries.
“You know I will be, Caish. I’m not going anywhere,” Jamie declared. “I’m sorry I have been distant lately, but that shouldn’t cause you worry. You met me at a strange time in my life, but that’s all behind me now. After this weekend I’ll have a lot more free time.”
“What is strange about your life?” I ask.
“I’ll explain it all later,” Jamie responds. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk. But, I’m with you. Let’s live in the moment tonight and not be distracted by our pasts. By the way, do you have plans this weekend?”
“Not really, why?”
“Because, like I mentioned, this weekend I’m still pretty busy, but after this weekend I’ll have a lot of free time. As a token of my apology for being unavailable, I bought you a suite here at the Ritz for the weekend. All expenses paid, have whatever you want, enjoy their spa, room service, and whatever else you’d like through Monday morning. Then—”
“Jamie, I don’t need you to buy me—”
“Well just hold on, Caish, there’s more. Then, on Wednesday, I am flying us to Villa Corallina in Tahiti, where we can relax and get to know each other a little better. Right now I have a booking for two weeks, but we can stay longer if you want.”
That does it. All my hopes are becoming reality.
Jamie, probably sensing that my emotions have the better of me, doesn’t let the silence get uncomfortable. Reaching across the table, Jamie takes my hand, and, with a gentle squeeze, says, “Let’s start over, Caish. This time, no business. No Green Mountain between us. We’ll move your account over to another one of our senior executives and you and I can focus on us. Your money will blossom into something beyond your imagination; my hope is that our love can do the same.”
“Love?” I squawk.
“Let’s stop acting. We know what this is. Maybe it’s not there yet, but it’s well on its way. I know you’ve been feeling what I have. When you lay in bed, plug in your phone, and roll over into the darkness, whose face do you see?”
“Yours.”
“Caish, when I’m not with you, my heart literally feels heavy. As if it’s weighed down by your absence. I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. Tell me you feel it to.”
“I do,” I manage to control my emotions enough to turn some thoughts into words, “of course I do. Jamie, you have no idea how much this means to me. For months now I thought I was going to have to learn how to live without you. It seems childish for me to have such a yearning for somebody I have only spent one night with, but there’s something about you, Jamie. There’s something about us.”
“I know. And we start tonight,” Jamie says. “Then—just give me the weekend—then on Wednesday we’ll begin the rest of our lives. Enjoy your stay here at the Ritz. Lose yourself in their amenities and let your problems dissolve away. Don’t think about any bills, forget about the repossessions, and let the Ritz Carlton take you to heaven.”
“How do you know about the repossession?”
“You mentioned it a couple weeks ago. Your Aston Martin, you said.”
“Hm. Weird, I didn’t think I mentioned that.” In fact, I’m sure of it. I would never tell Jamie that one of my cars was repossessed, and I certainly would not mention that another may soon be repossessed. Jamie must have seen it in one of the financial checks they do at Green Mountain.
“Yeah, you said something about it,” Jamie says. “But anyway, don’t worry about it. Don’t think about it this weekend, enjoy yourself. Then on Wednesday we’ll take a real vacation.”
“What about my car? My Lamborghini is still parked in your building. I’m not sure I want to leave it there all weekend.”
“Just leave the keys with me and I’ll have our runner drop it off tonight or tomorrow morning. The same guy that did it last time. You can trust him.”
“Let’s just go back tonight and bring it to the hotel. It’s what, a couple miles away?”
“Nah,” Jamie says, “I don’t want to interrupt our evening. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“But it would be nice to have my car here for the weekend, in case I want to go anywhere.”
“No, you don’t want that hassle. Ubering will be easier. Plus, valets, even at the Ritz, are still valets. You don’t want them having access to your car. You’ll feel better about your car being parked safely in your driveway. Trust me.
”
“But I won’t be home to open the gate. Your runner won’t be able to get it into the driveway.”
“I’ll just text you when he’s there and you can open the gate for him. Your smart home app works at any distance, right?”
“Yeah...”
“Great, then it’s as easy as that. Don’t worry about it, Caish. Really, I’ll take care of everything. After all this, do you still not trust me?”
“No, no, it’s not that. I do trust you. Here, here’s the key.”
“And the garage door opener is in the car?”
“No, I use the app for that too. Plus, I may trust your runner to drive my car home, but not to have access to my garage and house.”
“Oh I agree, Caish, I just wanted to make sure it was parked where you want it,” Jamie says. “Now, can we stop discussing minutiae and enjoy the evening?”
“Yes, please,” I say.
“Excellent. I propose another toast,” Jamie says. We raise our glasses and Jamie continues, “To you, Caish, who has the knowledge to know when to act, the courage to make money, and the wherewithal to know who to trust. And to us, the most important couple in Los Angeles. Cheers!”
“Cheers!”
Malibu Motel Page 7