The Beautiful and the Wicked (23 page)

“Who knew a bag of bones could be so fucking heavy,” Paul said as he stretched out his back.

The women, who'd come back from their rendezvous with Lady Kitty just fifteen minutes earlier, gave one another solemn, amazed looks.

“I can't believe it,” Elise said.

“I know,” Josie responded, her eyes wide with astonishment as she pressed her hands against her cheeks.

“What?” asked Jack. “What's the big deal?”

Josie said, “Lady Kitty literally just predicted this would happen. She told us that someone who our family had treated unfairly would return into our lives within two days. And here he is.” She walked over to Poe, who reached up toward Josie and began to inappropriately run his hand up her long, tanned leg until she kicked him away.

Jack shook his head. “First off, this fuckup was not treated unfairly by our family. And secondly, that psychic stuff is bullshit.”

“But where on earth did you find him, and why in heaven's name did you bring him back here?” Charity asked, not at all attempting to mask her displeasure about Poe's return. It was clear to Lila that Charity was still anxious over the fact that she had been the one responsible for spreading the news about Jack tossing Poe's golden phallus overboard.

Charity's silver-­haired and rather dramatically sunburned husband answered. “The boys and I went to quite a lively bar after we were done diving. And who should we see there but Daniel Poe. Apparently, he'd made friends with the crown prince of Benin, who brought him over to St. Barts on his yacht a ­couple days ago.”

“But what is he doing
here
?” Elise asked. Her voice sounded slurred, whether from pills or alcohol or both Lila didn't know.

“You're not mad at him anymore, Daddy?” Josie asked. She'd been calling him “Daddy” since the whole Asher affair exploded in her face. It never failed to turn Lila's stomach.

Jack waited a few seconds before responding to his daughter. “Not in the least,” he said finally.

Lila didn't believe him for a second. Jack Warren was the type of guy who could hold on to even the tiniest of grudges for decades. So, why would he let the man who literally shat all over his boat back on board? Then again, Jack had been skewered by the press since word got out that he threw Poe's sculpture into the ocean. Over the last few days, many opinion columnists had been busy calling Jack a cultural vandal and an enemy of the avant-­garde. Had he brought Poe back to rehabilitate his image? Except Lila knew that Jack didn't care what the press wrote about him. It had to be something else.

“Anyway,” Jack said, stepping away from Poe, who was still on the ground. “It wasn't my idea. It was his,” he said, pointing at Liss. “That pain in my ass over there wants me to make nicey-­nice to this drunken reprobate. He's saying it's good for my reputation.”

“All I want, Jack,” Liss said with a sigh, “is for you to look like less of a goddamn loose cannon. I don't think that's so difficult to comprehend, is it?”

Jack gave Liss a terrible little smile that turned into a shark-­eyed stare and sneer. He was baring his teeth at his enemy. Most importantly, Daniel Poe was back on board, and back on Lila's suspect list.

“I'm not so sure this is the way to rehab my image, Seth,” Jack said, shaking his head at Daniel Poe, who had started mumbling something incomprehensible. “And I don't know if it's the best thing for Daniel's image either. I mean even you should know that any half-­decent artist is much more beloved once they're dead.”

 

CHAPTER 20

W
HILE
D
ANIEL
P
OE
spent the following morning in his plush guest room, recovering from days and days of untold excess, his patron, Jack Warren, was on a treasure hunt. It seemed that the now-­legendary story of Jack throwing Poe's multimillion-­dollar statue overboard had not only caused a major sensation in the art world, it had also resulted in a bunch of modern-­day buccaneers scouring the Caribbean Sea in search of the golden phallus.

But to Jack, what was his to throw away was his to take back. He was hell-­bent on getting to it first.

Working with Captain Nash, First Officer Ben, and some very advanced navigation software, Jack calculated the sculpture's approximate location—­about 225 to 236 nautical miles southeast of the Exuma Cays. He then got on the phone with a ­couple of professional deep-­sea treasure-­hunting outfits and contracted them to bring the statue up from the depths. He boasted to his guests while slurping down his breakfast miso soup that he expected it to be back in his possession sometime within the next twenty-­four hours.

“The plan was to head back to Miami anyway, to restock supplies,” he said. “So we might as well swing by the Cays to grab the statue. We should still be on schedule to land in Miami by tomorrow evening.” All the guests were seated around the table for breakfast with the exception of Liss, which was unusual. Lila had his Tater Tots warming in a chafing dish and his Heinz ketchup artfully concealed in a tiny ceramic terrine, but she wasn't preoccupied about his absence. She was too busy thinking about Ava, who would board the yacht once they landed in Miami. Just the very idea of it filled her with excitement and dread—­excitement that she'd see her sister again and dread for what lay in store.

“Then in four days it'll be your birthday, Daddy,” Josie said in a treacly, babyish voice.

“The big five-­oh,” Paul said, holding up his crystal water goblet to toast his host. “It looks good on you, buddy.”

“Sure does,” Elise Warren said bitterly as she sipped on a spicy Bloody Mary while her breakfast of orange slices and steamed egg whites grew cold on the gold-­rimmed china plate set before her. “In a few years, ­people won't think I'm your wife. They'll think I'm your mother.”

An awkward silence fell over the table. Elise's overwhelming unhappiness often had that effect.

Never one to fear Elise's rage or sorrow, Jack said, “What my wife doesn't seem to understand is the only way to stay young is to have a purpose in your life.” He addressed this bon mot to his companions around the table, specifically avoiding eye contact with Elise, who was absolutely glaring at him. Lila was continually amazed by the fact that Jack almost never looked at nor directly addressed his wife. It must've made Elise Warren feel like a ghost in her own life.

“Now, now,” Clarence Baines cautioned in a fatherly tone. “No squabbling on such a beautiful day.”

“Yes,” Thiago said, trailing his fingers down the willowy and tanned limb of his young wife. “We must enjoy ourselves.”

“Of course,” Elise said irritably. “I'm having the time of my life.” She downed the rest of her Bloody Mary and tapped the edge of the glass with her nail, which Sam and Lila knew meant that she needed another.

Suddenly the serenity of the morning was shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps and labored breathing coming from the hallway. Everyone turned toward the door to see Seth Liss burst into the room.

He was visibly enraged. A vein in his forehead was throbbing and his nostrils were flared. Everyone was expecting Liss to attack Jack, but it was Clarence Baines he was after. He ripped the Bluetooth earpiece from his head and whipped it at Baines, causing the senator to jump back in surprise, spilling his grapefruit juice everywhere.

“You fucking imbecile,” Liss screamed. “Do you know what you've done?”

Charity Baines jumped up from her chair and stood protectively in front of her confused and cowering husband.

“Now, wait just one second,” she said to Liss in a southern accent that was as sweet and cool as a mint julep. Liss didn't take his eyes off Clarence. He looked like a bull about to attack.

“Seth, control yourself,” Jack said calmly. “Now tell me what this is all about.”

“I just got off the phone with a reporter from the
Wall Street Journal
asking me about our plans to move Warren Software's manufacturing out of China and back to American soil. Seems our friend here,” Liss said, pointing an accusatory finger at Baines, “has a new campaign commercial featuring you promising to make our products one hundred percent made in the USA.”

Jack stayed silent and still.

“Tell me this isn't true, Jack.”

“I can't do that.”

“But it'll torpedo our margins. Just a whiff of this hits Wall Street and our stock price will plummet.”

“Sometimes you've got to break a few eggs to make an omelet,” Jack said.

“Hear, hear!” Baines cheered.

Liss's eyes nearly popped out of his head. “An omelet? Have you gone fucking crazy? We'll lose
billions
. How could you do this without consulting me?”

“I don't need to consult you. It's my goddamn company. This was an executive decision. What kind of leader am I if my politics and my business don't align?”

“You'd be like every other businessman who'd ever lived on planet Earth,” Paul said. “Listen, Jack. I've got to side with Liss on this one. This isn't the kind of decision you can just make on your own.”

“Big fucking surprise, Paul. Seems like you and Liss and Thiago over here don't like the way I'm running things. Well, that's fine by me. For too long I've gone against what I know is right. But not anymore. Trust me. It's all going to change. Starting with this. All of Warren Software's manufacturing will be moved to U.S. soil at the start of the next fiscal year.”

“Fellas,” Baines said, “I know this isn't going to be easy. But Jack's a leader, a maverick. And he's doing what's right for his country.”

“Jack,” Liss said. He clearly was trying to restrain his rage. “I know Baines has made some promises to you, but let me tell you one thing. He doesn't care about our country. He doesn't care about China eating up our manufacturing jobs.”

Baines interrupted, “Now, wait one goddamn second there . . .”

But Liss continued, totally ignoring the protesting senator. “All he cares about is getting reelected. And he's using you to do it. He's taking your money and manipulating you into making decisions that are detrimental to the company you've built from the ground up.”

“I must demand that you apologize to me!” Baines said, outraged.

Jack sipped his green tea, with a peaceful smile on his face, an island of calm in a raging sea. “Seth, Seth. You know me,” he said in a measured and belittling tone. “You think Baines here is like, what? Some sort of Svengali that can bend me to
his
will? He isn't taking advantage of me.
Nobody
takes advantage of me. You think you can question my decisions? Well, let me tell you something, my friend. I'm twenty moves ahead of you right now. You can protest as much as you want. You don't see the big picture, but that's fine. That's not your job. You can stay down in the muck shoveling the shit every day. Leave the big-­picture thinking to me.”

“You're going to destroy this company!” Liss shouted.

“I thought you'd be delighted. Now you can add one more thing to your so-­called Project King Charles memo that you've been sending to everyone in the company.”

Liss looked stunned.

“What, you didn't think I'd find out about it? The level to which you continually underestimate me just proves how incompetent you are,” Jack said.

“Jesus, Jack,” Thiago said. “You can't do this. It isn't just about you.”

“Ah, Thiago, my old friend. You and I both know that you can't lecture me about doing what's right. Both of you,” Jack said, looking from Paul to Thiago, “were entertaining Liss's plan to take my company away from me.”

Jack stood up, grabbing Charity's half-­empty mimosa and holding the glass up in the air. “So, here's to my so-­called friends. May I return your loyalty in kind.”

Seth rushed out of the room, yelling as he left, “I won't let you do this, Jack. Mark my words.”

Lila, who had been trying to stay as invisible as possible this entire time, watched Jack, amazed to see how centered and how contented he looked. No one was on his side, and he didn't give a fuck, nor did he feel like he had to explain himself to anybody. That wasn't the state of mind of a normal man. Then she remembered what Ben had said, that Jack was a control freak who was happiest when everyone around him was in chaos. Well, Lila thought as she cleaned up the spills and clutter quickly accumulated during all the shouting and accusations, mission accomplished.

After breakfast, everyone once again scattered to their various corners. Elise Warren retreated to the gym, where she contorted her lithe body on the Pilates machine that, with its metal springs and leather, resembled a medieval torture device. When Lila walked by the gym to peek in, she was surprised to see how steady Elise looked doing her exercises, despite her breakfast of vodka and tomato juice. Josie was out by the pool with a copy of Franz Fanon's
The Wretched of the Earth
shielding her face from the hot Caribbean sun. She was constantly flopping from her back to her stomach, as if she couldn't get comfortable. Stuck out at sea with a bunch of adults and a freshly broken heart, Josie seemed as if she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Sam served her a steady stream of piña coladas, which she sucked down noisily.

Liss was, of course, in damage-­control mode. Lila thought up countless excuses to go to his room: to pick up his laundry, to make his bed, to deliver his lunch . . . She needed to know what he was thinking. Was Jack pushing him so hard that he would resort to violence? The only reason Liss's rage had briefly settled was that Project King Charles was progressing. But now that a corporate coup d'état was impossible, would Warren Software's ambitious CFO decide to grab power the old-­fashioned way?

He certainly seemed angry enough, but more than anything, he looked miserable. Sitting, stooped-­shouldered, at his desk, surrounded by piles of empty chocolate soda cans, Liss spent his hours screaming into the phone in English or calmly speaking into the phone in Mandarin. It was obvious he was trying to comfort the Chinese businessmen who were nervous about losing a fortune if Warren Software took its manufacturing elsewhere.

Clarence sought shelter from the storm that he'd created by hanging out on the aft deck by a deep-­sea fishing pole, distractedly watching the line drag through the water as he and his wife tucked into oversize gin and tonics.

Lila was refreshing their drinks, adjusting the pillows on the chairs, and setting out snacks for them so that she could eavesdrop on their conversation.

“It's too late now,” Clarence said to his wife, who looked incredibly worried. “I've put all my eggs in the Jack Warren basket, for better or for worse. The man has brought in tens of millions of dollars. Without him I could never get reelected.”

“But I'm worried that you won't be able to get reelected
with
him. I think he's spiraling out of control, my love. And I don't want you to get sucked into some kind of corporate scandal. Meanwhile, here we are, in the middle of the ocean, when we should be back home on the campaign trail.”

“I know, angel. But I needed Jack to believe I'm in his corner. Otherwise he'll never pony up the cash we need. And if he withdraws support for my initiative to move his company's manufacturing back home, then my campaign would never recover.”

“True.”

“If we pull this off, thousands of jobs will come back to our state. And all this will be worth it.”

“Lady Kitty told me that you were going to win, honey.”

“That's the first time I heard that charlatan say something I can get behind. Now,” Clarence said, looking around and then beckoning Lila over, “sweetheart. Me and the Mrs. need more G-­and-­Ts, plus can you wrestle up a ­couple nice shrimp cocktails for us? Might as well enjoy ourselves while we can.”

As Lila was in the galley getting everything Clarence requested, Sam walked in and threw down her silver serving tray in a huff. “Everyone can go fuck themselves,” she said. Her Floridian accent was always stronger when she was angry.

“What's the matter, Sam?” Lila asked.

Sam's gaze was fixed down at the tray and her mouth was set in a tight little grimace.

“It's just . . .” Sam said, gathering a deep breath. “Fuck Jack.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “If I wanted to be treated like trash, I could've just stayed in my damn swamp-­rat trailer park. I've done something with my life. I'm here, after all, aren't I? But that man can cut me down so quick. Make me feel smaller than I ever felt.”

Lila could tell that Chef Vatel was listening in on their conversation, so she grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged her into the walk-­in refrigerator. Both women stood there shivering among the tins of caviar and the fillets of black cod.

“Now tell me exactly what happened,” Lila said, putting a sisterly hand on Sam's shoulder.

“I won't be treated like a whore,” Sam cried, her teeth chattering from the cold.

“Who called you a whore?”

Sam quickly explained. When Jack wasn't busy antagonizing every man, woman, and child he encountered, he had been in his room working around the clock on something. “I don't know what it is,” she said. “All I know is he sits at his computer typing like crazy basically for the entire night. Like, I don't think he sleeps. It's bananas. Whenever I, you know, visit him, that's what he's doing. I come into his room, he types. I undress, he's
still
typing
. Then he gets up, bends me over the bed, fucks me, comes, zips up his pants, and before I'm dressed and cleaned up, he'll be back at his fucking desk. It's so humiliating.”