The Funeral Planner (27 page)

I also included samples of Andy’s now-framed leaf art with poetic words about loss, loss and more loss written by Daniel Banks.

Crowds stand and gawk at the sculpture and the videos.

Sierra fiddles with the projector to make sure the image on screen is crystal clear. More and more people stop by. I conduct a series of miniseminars outlining the offerings of Lights Out with a PowerPoint presentation. And on two separate monitors at either end of the booth the Web site is prominently displayed.

Sierra motions to me that she’s going to check out the show. She signals that she’ll be back in ten minutes. I nod and continue my speech to the group in front of me. “And so you see…” I explain,“Lights Out Enterprises offers strategic partnerships with funeral home directors so you can enhance your services to your communities. You supply the pre-need clients and we’ll take care of all the details. Are there any questions?”

A man raises his hand. “How are you different from Tribute in a Box?”

“Tribute in a Box,” I repeat. “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with them. What do they do?”

“Seems like they do exactly what you do,” a woman replies. “And they guarantee celebrities will perform at the funeral, I mean tribute.”

I’m baffled.

“They’re right around the corner,” says another man. “And their price points are lower than yours.”

On those words the crowd begins to disperse. Sierra returns wearing a concerned expression on her face as she shuffles through the exodus to me. She places a copy of the
Financial Street Journal
in my hands.

“Maddy. Today’s journal,” says Sierra. “Read and breathe. And whatever you do, don’t go around the corner unless you want to short circuit your own lights.”

I look down. There on the front page is a cover story:

Derek Rogers resurfaces with “Tribute in a Box.” Derek Rogers’s latest and greatest venture: prefab customized tributes for all. Since leaving Palette Enterprises, Mr. Rogers has quickly and quietly amassed ownership of 1,000 publicly traded funeral homes offering after-funeral services, estate planning, legal advice, grief counseling and now, Mr. Rogers’s latest product, Tribute in a Box, specialized funeral services aimed at the babyboomer generation. The consortium of funeral homes also offers accrued interest earned in prepaid plans. Tribute in a Box rolls out its offering at the Funeral Trade Show in Las Vegas with exceptionally low price points due to volume-based business incentives…

I throw down the paper and look at Sierra. “How is this possible? What does he do, have a chip in my brain that tracks novel business ideas? Even if he read the article on Lights Out, he wouldn’t be able to copycat me like this, and in such record time!”

Sierra shakes her head. “It’s weird, Maddy.
Twilight Zone
weird.”

“I have to go over there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

But I’ve already begun my journey. I stomp toward the main aisle. As I turn the corner I stop in my tracks. My mouth drops open. The most extravagant exhibit on the whole floor is Tribute in a Box. Not only is there a slick life celebratory video on a giant eighty-foot HD plasma screen that bares an uncanny resemblance to my life bio video template cut-by-cut, but it seems like every concept of my business plan is on display in 3-D virtual hologram format, rotating at different points in the booth. On top of that, celebrity look-alikes for Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, Jennifer Aniston, Tom Cruise, Bob Dylan and Donald Trump wander the perimeters of the booth blurting out their trademark lines, shaking hands with all of the attendees, and promising to speak on their behalf at their time of need as long as it’s arranged in advance via the Tribute in a Box Pre-need Celebrity Package.

I blink and take a step closer, only to discover none other than Jonny Bright animatedly propagating the business to a crowd of funeral-home owners.

I grab Sierra’s arm. “That’s…that’s…that’s Jonny Bright!”

Sierra shakes her head. “Holy shit. He never got back to you on your business plan. You’ve got one hell of a lawsuit if you ask me.” I start heading toward Jonny. Sierra grabs my arm. “Don’t go there, Maddy. Remember what Professor Osaka taught us. You’ll just reveal weakness inside your anger. Besides, competition is good. Even your uncle Sam told you it keeps you on your toes. Remember?”

“I’ve got my anger under control,” I mumble through tight lips. “I’m just going to do some competitive trolling, that’s all. Can you please watch the booth?”

“Do I have a choice?” asks Sierra. “Maddy, if you’re going to walk into the lions’ den…take Uncle Sam with you.” She hands me my purse.

I look awkwardly at her. “How did you know Uncle Sam was in here?”

“How long have I known you? I used to be your girlfriend, remember? It doesn’t mean I stop knowing you.”

I nod, pat my purse, walk right up to Jonny Bright and immediately unleash my anger. “Excuse me, but what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

In the distance, Sierra shakes her head and covers her eyes.

“Maddy! Hi! Um…welcome…welcome to, uh, Tribute in a, uh, Box,” Jonny stutters. He turns to the crowd. “And here’s a, uh, sample video for all, uh, of you to look at.” He hits Play on a DVD machine and moves to the side of the booth with me.

“Hey, you’re looking really, uh, hot. So, how are you, Maddy?” he asks, nervously wiping his hands on his pants.

“How
am
I?” I ask, infuriated. “You hold on to my intellectual property, you don’t return calls, you don’t communicate, you pull a Houdini—on everyone—and you turn up here, with
my
business plan on display, and you ask ‘How am I?’”

“Look, Maddy. I think you’re, uh, way, way overreacting.”

“Don’t you dare try to turn this around, Jonny.”

He swallows hard. “Look, how do you know I’m not protecting you? That Derek didn’t come to me with the idea and I kept your plan away from him so there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest?”

“Then why not return my calls? Why not return my business plan? What are you hiding from unless you’ve got something to hide?”

Jonny fidgets, nervously rubbing his hands together like he did at Morton’s restaurant and like he did at the Beverly Hills Deli. And then it hits me. “You gave Derek my business plan for Artists International, didn’t you.” I am stunned by my realization.

Jonny squirms some more.

“You signed an NDA. I can sue you for this, Jonny.”

“I never signed an NDA,” he whines defensively.

I pull out my PDA to retrieve the legal docs I scanned in a long time ago.

“Really? I can prove it.” I show him signed NDAs by Bobby Garelik and Victor Winston. But the third NDA is blank. Jonny never signed it. I falter.

He gloats and says, “See. I never signed an NDA.”

“There are witnesses, Jonny.”

“Only if you can get them to testify,” he says cockily. Before I can reply, Derek Rogers appears, immaculately dressed, and as usual, bearing an arrogant posture. “Well, look who’s here. Madison Banks. I like your booth. It’s got a nice quaint charm to it.”

“Tell me something, Derek. Do you ever generate an original concept on your own?”

“Why should I? That’s what I hire other people to do for me.”

“Like Jonny?”

Jonny stands behind me, shaking his head in an attempt to signal Derek on his response. Derek remains calm and nonplussed as he replies,“Madison, you wouldn’t want me to ask you to reveal your sources of inspiration, now, would you?”

“Why don’t you try me?”

“Because frankly, I don’t care where your inspiration comes from. I care about results. And I have to say your Lights Out Enterprises is a nice little outfit. In fact, I’d be interested in acquiring it. What do you think, Maddy? Would a hundred thousand do it?”

“Is there anything you can do besides insult people, Derek? Or are your only abilities stealing, raping and pillaging other businesses?”

“What? My number’s too low and you’re hurt?” snickers Derek.

“You can’t buy my business, Derek. It’s an honorable business and it’s not for sale to you, not for one hundred thousand or one hundred million, because no matter what, all you end up doing is leaving a black stain on whatever you touch!”

Derek laughs. “Still sore about that, eh, Maddy. Let it go. It’s in the past.”

“But this isn’t, and neither is Artists International, which apparently became Palette Enterprises,” I say, glancing between Derek and Jonny.

Derek looks at both of us and drops all of his pretenses, including his fake smile. He snaps,“This conversation is over. If you wish to reconsider my offer, Madison, you know where to reach me.”

As Derek turns to address the attendees in his booth, the Donald Trump look-alike walks up to my face and blurts, “You’re fired!”

I look at him, shocked and indignant, and then instinctively slap him in the face. He stands there, stunned. He looks at Jonny, who impotently shrugs.

Sierra stands at the corner of the aisle and has one eye on me and the other on the Lights Out booth. I see her gasp, “Oh, no” when my hand flies. I am marching toward the Lights Out booth, shaking, when I run right into Victor Winston.

Victor must see that I’m pale. “Madison?”

“What—I thought you had meetings in Phoenix.”

“I saw the article in
FSJ
and got on the first plane here.” He looks around and sees the Tribute in a Box booth with Jonny Bright standing on the stage proselytizing. In one instant he gets it. “Jonny Bright is here?”

“He never signed my NDA. Would you and Bobby Garelik testify if I sued him?”

“Maddy. Listen to me,” says Victor. “Jonny Bright owes Bobby Garelik half a million dollars. It’s unlikely Garelik would ever testify against Jonny if he ever wants to see his money. That would put me in a dead zone on the matter.”

“Are you serious?”

Victor nods. “I would testify, but we wouldn’t get any traction on it legally.”

“Then what’s the point of having an NDA?”

“The truth is, not much.”

I shake my head and mutter, “There was a movie we watched in our Ethics class in college. It was a 1957 version of
The Brothers Karamazov.
”

“Starring Yul Brenner and William Shatner,” says Victor. “What about it?”

“There’s a line where they talk about how business can contaminate you. That’s how I feel now,” I say, dropping my head.

Victor gently lifts my face up by my chin. “The point of that story, Maddy, is that anything is lawful, even crime, because everything…is not lawful.”

“I really hate conundrums.”

“Leave the conundrums to me and keep your vision on Lights Out. The game is far from over.”

I try to pull myself together again. “Well, um, what’s the next step?”

“Same as before, you just stick to the strategy. And expect there to be losing streaks in the short run. Remember, you’re the one who envisioned a great opportunity. Your instincts for balancing risk against reward are spot-on. Don’t forget that.”

“Should we have an advisory board meeting?” I ask, trying hard to get back to business.

“Good idea. Let’s set it up for next week.”

Back at the Lights Out booth Sierra waits for me. “Sierra, this is Victor Winston, of Winston Capital. Victor, this is Sierra D’Asanti—she’s the one…”

Victor extends a hand. “So you’re the one who brilliantly puts the images together. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sierra carefully looks him over, every inch, and then extends her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

He looks around the booth. “You’ve both done a great job with this. The sculpture’s likeness to your uncle Sam is remarkable.” Then he sees samples of the framed leaf art. “What’s this?”

“Maddy’s attempt to promote homegrown art,” says Sierra.

“The leaf art is my nephew’s work. The poems are from his father, who doesn’t know that we’ve matched his words to dead leaves,” I explain.

“I like it,” says Victor. “Have you sold any yet?”

Sierra shakes her head.

“Then I’ll be the first,” says Victor. And he buys two.

For the next two days, Sierra, Victor and I work the booth to make strategic alliances with funeral homes outside of Derek Rogers’s domain. By the end of the trade show, we rack up partnerships with twelve independent funeral homes.

The second I return to Los Angeles, I contact everyone on the advisory board to set an urgent meeting for next week in New York, making it convenient for the three board members who live there. I offer to cover expenses to fly Richard Wright in from Michigan.

I receive e-mails from JoAnna Myman at Event Ventures and from Adam Berman at Ubiquitous Music, both saying that due to company pressures at this time they have to decline from being part of the Lights Out Enterprises advisory board. Completely baffled, I call Adam asking for an explanation.

“Derek offered me more money to be on his board, but I turned him down, Maddy. And then I realized that it’s too politically risky for me to be on any board at all right now. But if you ever need me for anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call. I think what you’re doing is smart and courageous. I just can’t personally be involved.”