Crown Jewel (27 page)

“No, you may not quote me, young woman. Why are you doing this? All you reporters are muckrakers. Tell me right now how I can get in touch with that movie star. I'm going to put a stop to this immediately.”

“I resent that, Mr. Vice President. Facts are facts. I don't care if you are the vice president,
SIR
. What you allegedly did is far worse than anything I could ever
think
about doing. Mr. Lam is at Camellia Island in South Carolina.” She rattled off his phone number.

Gracie thought she heard him say, “My attorney will be in touch with you.”

And this was the guy who might someday run the country. He'd never get her vote, that's for sure. She shrugged. She'd done her part. The rest was now up to Ricky Lam and Lorraine Farquar.

Now it's vacation time! All the new clothes! Well, minus one piece of underwear. An exotic island! Ten whole days! Max Lam! Woweeee.
“Here I come, Antigua!”

Gracie sashayed out of the house and out to the waiting car. She'd splurged on a car service because it was something she'd always wanted to do. She felt like Cinderella going to the ball.

 

“Anna, cancel the rest of my appointments. I think I'm coming down with a bug of some kind. You can reach me at home if it's an emergency.” Was it his imagination, or was his secretary looking at him strangely? His heart pounding in his chest, Adam Nolan left his office.

He entered the vice presidential quarters twenty minutes later, shouting his wife's name. Where the hell was the other half of the all-American family? Then he remembered what day it was. His wife's late day. That meant he had the house to himself. Behind these walls, he could think and plan his strategy. He could call his friends, seek their advice. He could turn on the news and watch it for the rest of the day to see if he could work some damage control. In his life, he'd never felt such fear. Well, maybe one other time. The night Laney Woodworth told him she was pregnant.

Who in the hell would have ever thought that skinny little waitress with the big boobs would eventually become Armand Farquar's wife? Certainly not I
.

Nolan poured himself a triple shot of cognac and gulped at it. He paced up and down the library, his favorite room, back and forth, up and down. When the amber fluid was gone from his glass, he poured more. When that was gone, he thought about the faceless son he'd never known. Did he look like him or did he favor the greasy-haired waitress? Now he had to deal with Hollywood trash.

He visualized a gurgling drain and saw all his hopes and dreams swirling away. All because of some trashy waitress and some dick-weed movie star. Maybe he could appeal to Armand's widow. Or the kid. Where was the kid? Probably looking for acknowledgment so he could brag that his father was the vice president on his way to being president of the United States. Yeah. Yeah, the kid was his best bet. Only he wasn't a kid anymore. He must be forty-seven or forty-eight. A man. You couldn't reason with a kid, but you could reason with a man. All he had to do was find the kid. How hard could that be? He'd use the internet.

The computer came to life with the Great Seal of the United States on the screen saver. He stared at it and felt like crying. He reached out to touch the screen. It was almost his.

Nolan flexed his fingers before he typed in the name, Ricky Lam. He reared back when the screen exploded to life with flashing pictures of the famous star. He was incredibly photogenic. Hollywood and the fans loved him. He read tributes, testimonials. Twenty minutes later he realized his own life story compared to Lam's was extremely boring. He scrolled down the site map until he saw the word,
Biography
. He clicked on it and read about the star's life. He found it interesting, found that a fifty-thousand-member fan club was current and equaled only by Elvis Presley's. His parents were deceased, and he had a brother named Philip, who was his business manager. The last time the site was updated was a year before Lam's Hollywood retirement.

Nolan continued to read but eventually gave it up. All he had discovered thus far was his son's name.

He turned to his Rolodex and dialed Buck Grisham's number, only to be told he was in South America for six weeks and no, they didn't have a number where he could be reached.

Next he tried to reach Leon Franks, who, it turned out, was out of the country, and Neil Carpenter, who happened to be away on business. Pure bullshit! What kind of friends were they if they didn't stand by him? They could all just kiss his ass. They weren't going to be on the VIP list for the Inaugural Ball or the swearing-in ceremony.

The last name on his list was Mrs. Armand Farquar. He probably should have called her first. He shuddered when he remembered how startled he had been at her words the day of her husband's service. He'd actually stumbled, he'd been so stunned. That same night, his wife had commented on his strange look, asking him what Mrs. Farquar had said to him. He'd made up some story, but for the life of him couldn't remember what it was. It was a lie, so what did it matter.

His hands were shaking so badly he needed both to hold the glass. He drained it before he set it down on the edge of his desk. He punched in the number from the card in the Rolodex and waited. A cool, aloof voice informed him Mrs. Farquar was out of town. She had no idea when the madam would return and she didn't offer to take a message.

Like that was really true. Did she think he just fell off the turnip truck? “Tell Mrs. Farquar the vice president of the United States called. I'd like her to return my call as soon as possible.”

Nolan sat down in his chair. He stared at a family picture sitting on the corner of his desk. The same picture the media had dubbed the All-American Family. What a crock. If they only knew he had another son someplace. Where? Where was his flesh and blood? Suddenly he wanted to know. He
needed
to know.

He looked over at the piece of paper where he'd jotted down Ricky Lam's phone number. He knew he wasn't sober enough to make such an important phone call. He'd catch a few winks and make the call later. Movie stars never went to sleep.

Roxy watched from a distance as the golf cart Ricky was in swerved off the road and around to the back of the resort. He appeared either to be looking for something or at something. She used her hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. With the agility of a cat, Ricky leaped out of the cart and onto the hood and continued his intent scrutiny. She called out to him twice, but he was too far away to hear her. What
was
he looking at? She sighed. One of the plants or one of the trees must be crooked.

Ricky liked to eyeball everything, at times actually getting down on the ground to peruse something from a snail's vantage point. Invariably, he was right. She found herself chuckling at that and some of his other antics.

At present, he looked like a bronze Adonis in his shorts, work boots, bare chest, and hard hat. She knew how that bare chest felt against her own bare chest. She shivered in the ninety-degree temperature. Sweat dripped down between her breasts. She wished she could go braless, but her ample bosom prevented such a luxury. She waved frantically when she saw that Ricky was looking in her direction. She motioned for him to join her. She watched in fascination as he made a half turn off the hood of the golf cart, somehow hooked one of his legs around the side of the bar holding up the canopy, and landed smoothly in the driver's seat. A lean, muscled, sensuous cat. She shivered again. This time with anticipated pleasure.

“Whassup?”
He grinned, stepping out of the golf cart to wrap her in his arms a few minutes later. He felt so good.

“You had a call. Actually, you had two calls. Gracie called; she arrived in Antigua safe and sound and is probably sunning herself or sleeping as we speak. I can never keep the time differences straight in my head. All is well on her end. Your other call was from the vice president. There was no secretary involved. He found it very hard to believe I did not know where you were or that I was unable to reach you. There was no charm in the man's voice at all.”

Ricky laughed. He removed the dark blue bandanna he had tied around his neck. He wiped at his face and neck before he stuffed it in his pocket. “Did he say he was going to call back?”

“No. He said you were to call him the minute you got his message.” Roxy held out his cell phone.

Ricky waved it away. “That will be the day! See that fourth palm from the end. It's off by six inches. It throws the whole row out of whack. Get that guy from the nursery and have him fix it. Today. Did Max or Lorraine call?”

“I thought you wanted to talk to the vice president. No, neither one called.”

“I do. Look, my one goal from the beginning was to try and figure out what made my brother the person he was. I found that all out. I'm satisfied, and I can handle it. Philly asked one thing of me, and that was to tell his parents, if I found them, that he had died. I'm going to do what Philly wanted, but I'll be damned if I'm going to do it on the phone. Hell, I don't even know if the man knows his son is dead. I want to see that bastard's face when I tell him. If the veep wants to talk, he's going to have to come to me. The way I look at it, we owe him squat. We could make it easy on him and go to Antigua. That way we'll all be there. Let's do that, Roxy. I can be ready to go in a heartbeat. Charter a plane and make all the arrangements. Call Max and clue him in.” Ricky looked at his watch. “I have to meet with the pilot and take him to the hangar so he can check out our brand-new helicopter.

“Roxy, think about this. We'll get there just as Carnival gets underway. For the first time you can be a spectator instead of working behind the scenes. Call your daughter and ask her if she wants to join us.”

“I called her earlier this morning, and she's snowed under. Maybe next year. Did you check out the progress on the clinic?”

Ricky sighed. “Roxy, I couldn't even find the damn place. When you said secluded, you meant secluded. I took one of the golf carts and started out but got sidetracked. Guests who come to use the facility will love the privacy you arranged. I'm kidding,” he said, at Roxy's stricken look. “Of course I looked at it. It's magnificent. Patients can get their face-lifts, nose jobs, implants, whatever, without fear of anyone seeing them. I think the reflecting pool was a particularly nice touch. I don't know when I've ever seen so much
vegetation
. It smells heavenly. Those tea olive trees were a stroke of genius. Look, I gotta run. I'll be back in an hour. Ninety minutes tops. I can be ready to go anytime after that.”

The cell phone in Roxy's pocket rang. Ricky waved his hands as he sprinted off. He couldn't wait to see the brand-new helicopter.

Roxy clicked on the phone. “Roxy Nelson,” she said coolly.

“Miss Nelson, this is Adam Nolan, the vice president. Has Mr. Lam returned?”

“Yes, Mr. Vice President, but he had to leave again. However, he did leave a message for you. He said to tell you he does not discuss personal, private matters on the phone. Mr. Lam is leaving in a short while for Antigua. I can give you a number where you can reach him once he arrives there to set up your own appointment. Or,
I
can schedule you for a personal appointment, which is probably the only way you're going to be able to talk to him.”

The voice on the other end of the line started to sputter. “I don't believe this. Did you tell him who I am?”

“Yes, Mr. Vice President, I told Mr. Lam exactly who you are. Right now Mr. Lam is taking possession of a new helicopter, he's also in the middle of building a new resort and overseeing a million details, while at the same time negotiating with Hollywood and actors' agents for a new movie he's agreed to star in the first of the year. On top of that, he flies back and forth to the other two resorts his corporation owns on a regular basis. He is rather busy. As I said, I might be able to tentatively pencil you in for the day after tomorrow. What would you like me to tell Mr. Lam, Mr. Vice President?”

Roxy doubled over laughing when she heard the phone disconnect in her ear. How politically incorrect!

 

His head pounded. He wasn't sure if it was from all the cognac he'd consumed the night before or if it was from fear. Fear, he decided. Fear that he was going to see his hopes and dreams going to hell. All because of one mistake.

He cringed when he remembered what he'd heard on the twenty-four-hour news channel earlier. So far the press were parsing their words rather carefully. The innuendos, the sly digs were there with only a thin veneer covering the hard words. The tabloids were going hunting, the legitimate press, along with his political enemies, would join the fray shortly. That was a given.

Buck Grisham had warned him once that his cocky attitude would be his undoing. The phone rang. He stopped his frantic pacing to stare at it. “Adam Nolan,” he said.

“This is Ricky Lam, Mr. Vice President. I'm returning your call.”

The vice president didn't think about his words, he just blurted out what came into his head. “What in the damn hell did I ever do to you to warrant this attack on me and the office I hold? What's all this claptrap I'm hearing on every news channel? You can tell all your pretty studio people I'm going to be suing them as well as you. How dare you tarnish the office I hold and my reputation!” He banged his fist on the table to drive home his point before he realized Lam couldn't see what he was doing.

“Everybody in this life has to do what they have to do, Mr. Vice President. I returned your phone call as a courtesy, and to tell you I never discuss personal business on the phone. I'm leaving for Antigua in an hour. If you want to talk to me, that's where I'll be, Mr. Vice President.”

“Don't you hang up on me you…you…you
movie star
. You're talking to the vice president of the United States!” Too late. The phone
pinged
in his ear. Frustrated, he slammed his cell phone down on his desk.

Nolan beeped the head of his Secret Service detail, who came on the run. “I want to go to Antigua today. Do what you have to do, and I don't want to hear scheduling excuses either. I'm the vice president. I can do what I damn well please.”

After speaking to his press secretary, informing her he was taking a short two-day vacation in Antigua, he called the head of his private security staff. He cleared his throat, trying to sound like the forceful vice president he was supposed to be. “Carmody, I'm going to Antigua, Ellen has the details. I want you to take care of something for me, and I want it taken care of ASAP. There's a reporter named Grace Lick who writes for the
L.A. Times.
She's stirring up trouble. All those trashy Hollywood people crawl out from under rocks. I want you to keep her away from the media for a few days, and I don't want to read about it in the papers. I will not tolerate any excuses in this matter. Just so we're clear. Take care of it, Carmody.”

He bellowed for the housekeeper. “Do you go to the movies, Melba?” he asked, when she appeared in the dining room doorway.

“On occasion, sir.”

“Do you like that movie star, Ricky Lam?”

“Yes, sir, I do. My husband and I have seen all his films. My favorite was,
Noon Magic
. He doesn't make movies anymore. He retired at the height of his career. I guess that was a good career move on his part. Going out while you're still on top, that kind of thing.”

“Why would he do something like that? Movie stars are addicted to seeing themselves on the big screen and television as well.”

“I think Mr. Lam's situation was a little different. His brother was killed during a freak accident when they were filming the last scene of the movie he was working on.”

Adam Nolan sat down on the closest chair with a loud thump. “Killed! His brother died! You mean he's
dead?”

“Yes, sir. It was in all the papers and on the news at the time. Mr. Lam just walked away from Hollywood. Is there anything else, sir?”

“No. On second thought, yes, I'd like some more coffee.” Coffee was the last thing he wanted.

The brother is dead! Then what the hell is this all about?
Suddenly his shoulders felt lighter. Dead was dead. All along he'd been thinking his illegitimate son was going to appear, and say, “Hi, Pop, remember me?” He did some fast calculations in his head. That meant the brother,
never my son,
had been dead for six months. What the hell was all the fuss about? He could feel his shoulders straighten. He could make this all go away. He was almost positive he could do that. The absence of a living, breathing body to stare him in the face bolstered his confidence. All he had to do was get a bead on it, and intimidation would do the rest.

 

“Carnival never ceases to amaze me,” Roxy said as she eyed the colorful dress the island visitors were wearing. “Where do these vendors come from? It's like they spring up out of nowhere. In your life you will never see so much food. Your brother hated Carnival and always made sure he left before it started.”

“It's so…
frantic,”
Ricky said, as his eyes searched for his son.

“This is nothing. Wait until the last few days. No one sleeps. It's nonstop partying for four days. For some reason, I thought you'd been here for Carnival. Our guests love it. The steel bands are really worth seeing and hearing. The Calypsonians and the Deejays start it off with the opening at Carnival City at the Antigua Recreation Ground in St. John's. Almost all of the special events are scheduled there. We had to run a jitney on the half hour to accommodate our guests. Around the clock. It's just a smaller version of Mardi Gras. Oooh, there's Max! Yoo-hoo, sweetie! We're over here!”

He looks happy,
Ricky thought. He said so to Roxy.

She laughed. “He's in love.” She squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

“It's a zoo!” Max shouted. “It's like this everywhere. Follow me.”

In the car, headed for the resort, Max turned to face his father. “I heard on the news that the vice president is arriving late today. I lost all security that I had. Local law enforcement commandeered everyone working privately in security on the island. We're okay, we got it covered. There's a big push for the American flag, though. I guess you got the veep on the run, Ricky. The news said the vice president hasn't taken a vacation in six years, and this is his first. He wanted to experience Carnival. We all know it's bullshit, but it
is
what they're saying.”

“How are your special guests?” Ricky asked.

“They are having the time of their lives. Lorraine, she told me to call her that, and her daughter-in-law are great friends. The girls met some young people, and they're palling around. Ted is watching over them. They understand what's at stake here, so they're being cooperative. Like I said, I got it covered. Tyler runs interference. I'm just sorry I can't be spending more time with Gracie.”

“Well, we're here now. Spend some time with her. Roxy and I can fill in for you. Don't you get a headache from all of this?”

Max laughed. “I have a headache from day one till the last day. Do we have a game plan or what?”