Dreams Die First (21 page)

She raised her arms behind her neck under her long black hair. When she put them down, the dress slipped from her body. She stepped out of it and stood naked in front of me. Now I knew the source of the perfume I had smelled in the garden.

I looked at her without moving. “You’re beautiful,” I said. And she was.

“What do you want me to do?”

I leaned forward, picked up the dress from the ground and held it out to her. “You could find me two aspirin. I really have a headache.”

She took the dress from my hands and held it against her breasts. There was a puzzled sound in her voice. “You don’t want to—”

I laughed. “I want to, all right. But that would be like taking money under false pretenses. I haven’t made up my mind about this place yet. So if we fucked and I didn’t buy, you would have wasted a fuck.”

For the first time she laughed. She let go of the dress. “What’s a fuck between friends?” she asked.

CHAPTER 29

The telephone rang at eight o’clock in the morning. I reached for the telephone. Through the door leading to the bathroom, I could see Marissa’s shadow on the glass shower door and hear the splashing of the water. “Unh,” I grunted into the phone.

“Sounds like you had a big night,” Eileen said.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“While you’re down there having a good time, I want you to know that some people in the organization are working.”

“We’ll have to correct that. It’s ruining our image. The world thinks we do nothing but party.”

“I’ll be on the next plane,” she said teasingly. “But meanwhile, I thought you’d like some good news.”

“Tell me.”

“We just got the circulation figures for January, February. We broke the three and a half million mark.”

“How about that?”

“That isn’t all.
Lifestyle Digest
went to a million one. That’s not bad.”

“What are we doing wrong?”

“I don’t know, but we’d better make sure we keep on doing it.”

I laughed.

“What’s it like down there?”

“I don’t know yet. Verita’s getting into the books today and I’m taking the grand tour.”

“I don’t understand why you’re thinking of taking on a resort complex. The two magazines are making nothing but money.”

“I remember people saying that when I went into the clubs. Meanwhile, the London club alone is throwing off six million a year.”

“That’s because it has gambling. New York, Chicago and Los Angeles are lucky to break even.”

“We need them for our image. We’ll have gambling in Atlantic City and this place has a gambling license.”

“If that’s what you want, why don’t you go into Vegas?”

“I’m waiting for an opening. Meanwhile, the travel agency and packaged tours are getting a lot of action. I can fill this place right out of our own agency.”

“How are you going to get the people there with only two commercial flights a day?”

“I’ll have a charter service from LA. Plus which, the Princess Lines will make it a stop on their cruise.”

“Put it all together and it’s still chicken shit compared to what the magazines bring in. They’re netting almost three million a month.”

“Eileen. Such language.”

“I’m serious. Why?”

I thought for a moment. “It’s the action.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” she said. “Maybe someday, when you have some time, we’ll go into it.” Her voice grew soft. “I miss you.”

The phone went dead in my hand before I could answer. The lady was very good. She knew exactly where it was at. There was no heat, no pressure. She let it happen in its own time. And time was on her side. We both knew that. Sooner or later I would be there.

Marissa came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a big Turkish towel sarong. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good.” She crossed to the dresser and opened the small purse she’d brought with her. A moment later she was wearing a tiny bikini. She saw me watching her in the mirror. “It would look silly if I went up to the main building in my evening gown.”

I nodded.

“Can I get you something?”

“I could use some coffee.”

“Right away.” She pressed a button near the door. “Anything else?”

I got out of bed and started for the bathroom. At the door I turned and looked back at her. “Don’t be so formal, Baroness. I thought we were supposed to be friends. I’d hate to think you were just doing your job.”

When I came out of the bathroom, I saw that a small table had been rolled onto the terrace beyond the sliding glass doors. It was set with yellow linen napkins and tablecloth and there was a single yellow rose in a silver bud vase. The breakfast was continental—orange juice, coffee, hot rolls and croissants.

Marissa heard my footsteps and turned from the railing, where she had been looking out at the sea. “I owe you an apology,” she said.

“It’s okay.”

“No. I didn’t mean to be so stiff. It’s just that—I’ve never done anything like this before. I felt awkward. I didn’t know what to say.”

“You’ve said all the right things. Just as long as we’re still friends.”

She smiled. “We’re friends. Coffee?”

“Black, please.”

I took the cup from her hand. It was thick and strong. “What’s on the program for today?”

“Dieter will be waiting in the main building at ten o’clock to show you around.”

“Will you be with us?”

“I don’t think so. I have work to do. But there’s a cocktail reception for you at seven this evening. All the local officials are coming to meet you. I’ll be there.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll be there if you want me.”

“I want,” I said. “And this time bring something else to wear back to the hotel in the morning. I think it’s just as silly to show up in the office in a bikini as in an evening gown.”

***

The grand tour lasted until noon. By then the sun was so hot that even the ocean breeze coming through the open canvas-topped jeep gave no relief. Dieter did the driving and I sat next to him. Lonergan was in the back. Several times I glanced back at my uncle. If he was uncomfortable, he gave no sign of it in spite of the fact that he was the only one wearing a suit and tie. Still, I could sense that he was glad to get into the air-conditioned hotel.

We headed toward the bar. Lonergan ordered his usual dry martini. I decided on a gin and tonic and Dieter took tequila. We had covered two golf courses—one eighteen holes, the other nine—twelve tennis courts, a forty-horse riding stable and seventeen bungalows. All that was left to see was the main building.

“There are one hundred and eighty suites in this building,” Dieter said. “Each with a bedroom, living room, bar-kitchen and two baths. They were designed with every luxury in mind. At an average of two hundred dollars a day per suite we estimated break-even at forty percent occupancy.”

Lonergan nodded. “According to your figures, you averaged no better than fifteen percent.”

“Truthfully,” Dieter said, “we averaged less.”

“What’s capacity?” I asked.

“At two persons per suite and four per bungalow, four hundred twenty-eight.”

“Then at an average rate of one hundred dollars a day per guest you figured break-even at sixteen thousand a day?”

Dieter nodded. “That included all meals.”

“And if meals were not included?”

“Ten thousand, but you have to give them a continental breakfast. It’s part of our license with the government. That’s figured in the ten thousand.”

“Can the suites be converted into individual double rooms?”

“Yes. We thought about doing it, but we were not in a position to invest another million dollars in the changeover.”

“I see.” I signaled the bartender for another drink. “Why do you think the hotel didn’t make it?”

“There are two reasons,” Dieter said quickly. “The first is that the airlines did not keep their promise to increase the number of flights down here. The second is that the government won’t let us open the casino until after the elections, despite having issued us the gambling license last year.”

“What makes you so sure they’ll give their permission now?”

“They don’t want us to close. They have too much money invested.”

“Do you have the commitment in writing?”

He smiled. “This is Mexico. Nothing is ever in writing. And even if it were, it would mean nothing.”

“Then they could still withhold it?”

“Anything is possible, though I doubt it. But you will be able to judge for yourself. The governor of the state will be at the cocktail party this evening. So will the
jefe
of the treasury department from Mexico City. They are the ones who will decide.”

The telephone at the end of the bar rang. The barman nodded to Dieter. “
Para usted, excelencia.
”

Dieter took the telephone, said a few words, then put it down. “The official plane from Mexico City is arriving at the airstrip and I must go to meet them. If you gentlemen will excuse me?”

“No problem,” I said.

“I have reserved a table in the garden for luncheon.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at me. “The baroness will be here in a moment to accompany you and see to your comfort.”

“Thank you again.”

“I don’t like it. Something isn’t right,” Lonergan said as he walked away.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t think there will be gambling. If it were a sure thing, the boys would be here in a minute offering more money than you can come up with.”

“You may be right. But let’s run the game out. We’ll know more tomorrow than we do today.” I saw Marissa come into the bar. “Right now it’s time for lunch.”

CHAPTER 30

The luncheon was as beautifully served as the dinner had been the evening before. There was fish, freshly caught from the waters in front of the hotel, a lovely Montrachet, which was completely wasted on me but which my uncle savored, followed by fresh lime ice and coffee. The soft breeze through the overhanging trees kept the sun from being too hot on our backs.

When we had finished, Marissa got to her feet. “I have some work to attend to in the office. Is there anything I can do for you this afternoon?”

I glanced at my uncle. He shook his head slightly. “No, thank you. I think we’ll just go back to our cottage and rest awhile before the cocktail party.”

“Okay. But if there is anything you should want, you know where to reach me.”

We got to our feet as she left. My uncle looked after her approvingly. “A fine figure of a woman,” he said. “Quality.”

I looked at him skeptically. It might have been the sun, but I thought I saw him flush. He changed the subject quickly. “Walk back along the beach?”

“I’m with you.”

When we got to the water’s edge, my uncle suddenly bent down, took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his trouser cuffs. Holding the shoes in his hand, he stepped gingerly into the surf. He looked back at me. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

He was like a kid, kicking at the water and skipping away from the surf as it threatened to climb his legs. There was a faint smile on his lips and an oddly distant look in his eyes. “I’ve always wanted to do this ever since I was a kid.”

“You never—”

“No,” he said quickly. “I was eleven years old when I went to work. Your mother was a baby, your grandfather was dead and your grandmother was taking in washing to keep the family together.”

“What did you do?”

“I got a job sweeping up and cleaning out the spittoons in Clancy’s Saloon opposite the railroad station in Los Angeles.”

I was silent. This was something I had never heard. No one in my family had ever talked about where he had begun.

“Your grandfather and Clancy had worked on the railroad together. That’s how I got the job.” He stopped and looked out over the water. “I can still remember watching the Union Pacific freight train coming down the center of Santa Monica Boulevard and running alongside the tracks, waving to my father and Clancy in the cab of the big steam locomotive.”

“We’re a long way from Santa Monica Boulevard right now.”

“We both are. I remember that you began there, too.”

I nodded. It was hard for me to believe that it was only five years since I stood in the store on Santa Monica Boulevard and watched Persky direct the moving men as they took out the last pieces of furniture from the office of the
Hollywood Express
.

***

Persky glanced around, trying not to look at me. The store was empty except for scraps of paper and litter on the floor. “I guess that’s all of it.”

He went out the door, followed by the moving men. Outside, in the street, the carpenter finished boarding up the shattered storefront. He tried the door to see that it worked, then turned to me. “That’ll be a hundred bucks,” he said.

I gestured to Verita, who was standing next to me. “Give him a check.”

“No checks. Cash.”

For a moment I began to get angry; then I realized how foolish it was. If I were in his place and saw all the furniture going out, I would feel the same way. I stuck my hand in my pocket and came up with a roll. I paid him with a hundred-dollar bill that I peeled off the top.

“Thank you,” he said, obviously impressed. “If you need anything else, give me a holler.”

I locked the door behind him and turned to Verita. “I should have known it was too good to last.”

“Could have been worse. You might be dead. But you’re not. You might be broke. But you’re not. With the twenty-five thousand you got from Ronzi in settlement, you have eighty-one thousand in the bank.”

“Let’s see how much is left after I pay my bills.”

We went upstairs and sat down at the kitchen table, where she had set up the account books. “Let’s take the big ones first,” I said. “How much of Reverend Sam’s advance is left?”

She flipped the pages of the ledger. “He gave you forty thousand. You ran six pages. That leaves thirty-four thousand in his account.”

“Write the check.” I waited until she pushed the check over to me to sign. “Lonergan next.”

“You don’t owe him anything. He called me this morning and told me he wrote it all off as an investment.”