“The day’s half over in London. I’m in New York. What do you want?”
Oren Demetri was many things: irritating as hell, a pain in my ass, the CEO and founder of Demetri Enterprises, and also, unfortunately, my father.
What he wasn’t was a waster of words.
“Things are heating up in California. We need Senator Carroll on our side; we need to know we have the votes.”
I shook my head as I paced, putting the proverbial pieces of his puzzle together. That was the way it was with Oren. No niceties, no casual discussion of life. None of that Andy Griffith father-and-son shit. He jumped to the point. “That isn’t news. We’re all gearing up for the Senate Finance Committee next fall.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ve recently had a couple of calls with Carroll.”
“Think bigger, son. Calls aren’t enough. I’ll be in New York tomorrow, and then I’ll go on to California and deal with this myself. I thought that you might want to know.”
My head spun. I’d been working this deal for over a year. I was the one who knew the ins and outs. Sure, I’d told my dad what he needed to know, but I didn’t want or need him coming in like the proverbial knight on the fucking white horse, thinking he was saving a deal that I’d already secured. His presence wouldn’t be as a knight; his going to California would be more like a bull in a fucking china shop, leaving nothing but destruction and devastation in his wake.
When I failed to respond immediately, Oren went on. “This takes precedence over other matters and it seems as though if I want it done right—”
I shook my head as I pushed through the raspy tone of my thwarted sleep and made my opinion of his plans known. “No.”
“No?”
“Yes. No. You’re not storming into Carroll’s office and browbeating him when we’re as close as we are. I have this covered.”
“If you had it covered, you’d know that Senator Carroll won’t be in Sacramento at his office this week or in DC. He’ll be in San Diego.”
“What fucking difference does that make?”
“It makes a difference because he’s meeting with heads of some of the big tobacco companies down there. It’s a summit of sorts. It’s why Demetri Enterprises needs to move. We can’t allow them to get their sticky fingers involved. You’ve primed the pump. I’ll go make our position clear.”
“No. Our position is clear. The position of Demetri Enterprises is clear.” Holding the phone with my right hand, I spun my gold band on my left. The smooth circle provided a small bit of comfort as I worked to contain the bubbling displeasure brought on by this five-fucking-o’clock-in-the-morning tirade.
“It’s already settled,” Oren said.
“What is settled?” I asked.
“I’ll be in New York tomorrow, probably by the sound of things, before you even wake. And then I’ll head west. I have reservations in Del Mar.”
“Del Mar? You’re not crashing the senator’s hotel? Why not find out what suite he’s in and book the room next door. I know, you could get one of those rooms with the connecting doors. That way you could advise him of our stand while he’s taking a shit.”
“Lennox, that attitude is exactly why I need to be the one to do this.”
“I’m assuming the reservations were made by the company?”
“Yes.”
“When do the reservations start in Del Mar?”
“Tomorrow. Time’s on my side heading west.”
I could think of fifty different reasons not to get on a company plane myself and fly to Del Mar, California, but they all paled in comparison to my desire to keep this deal on track—the track that I planned. It was working.
The future in legalized marijuana was a whole new world—a recently discovered planet. The possibilities were limitless, and I wasn’t planning on Demetri coming in second to Big Tobacco or any other industry. I was the man for this job, not the old washed-up has-been bellowing on the other end of this call.
“I won’t be here when you arrive in New York,” I said matter-of-factly.
“I think you should pry yourself out of bed, and we should spend a few hours—”
“I’ll be the one in Del Mar,” I interrupted. “I’ll take Deloris with me, she has family out there...” That wasn’t the only reason for her to accompany me. She was a magician when it came to learning information. By the time we arrived in Southern California, she’d have all the information on Senator Carroll’s summit and know exactly who and what we were up against. “...and take your reservations.” Before he could reply, I asked the question whose answer I was relatively confident of. “Presidential suite, I presume?”
Like my father, I enjoyed the comforts that our hard work could provide. The Del Mar resort was one of my top ten places to stay when in So Cal for business. The isolation of the resort and the beauty of the view from the presidential suite were enough to entice me to change my schedule and take a few days to solidify Senator Carroll’s position and assure us the votes needed for the upcoming Senate committee.
Besides, I would still be able to carry on my work from there. Minus meeting with people here in New York, much of what I did was done via computer and telephone. The presidential suite had a nice office with a view of the communal pool. When I took the time to watch, some of the guests could be downright entertaining.
“Dad?” I asked again. “Presidential suite or were you planning on saving the company a few dollars and reserved a downgrade?”
“I’m still coming to New York.”
A smile crept over my lips. And I won’t be here. I wanted to say that. Instead, I went on with my plan. “Not necessary, Dad. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Del Mar.”
“I booked the suite for a week. I wasn’t sure how long it would take.”
My smile grew...until it faded.
Was he giving in too easily?
Or maybe it was that he was old and tired and traveling from London to San Diego was more than he wanted to do once he gave it some thought.
“Then it’s settled,” I declared. “I’m going. You can stay in London and do whatever it is you do.”
“Don’t screw this up, son. A cocky attitude isn’t what works best in business.”
“Bye, Dad.”
Disconnecting the call, I decided it was a good thing that I knew my own strengths because getting support or encouragement from my father was never going to be my go-to for confidence.
I could do this. I could get this deal secured. I knew it. My father called it cocky. I called it confident. After all, I was the one who’d met with the senator in the past. I was the one who came up with the idea of getting Demetri Enterprises in on the ground floor of legalized cannabis.
Shaking my head, I laughed as I realized my nakedness.
Yeah, Dad, I am cocky.
Even though my morning erection was no longer at full mast, putting on shorts, socks, and running shoes before hitting the treadmill was a good idea.
First, I sent a quick text to Deloris Witt:
“ARRANGE TRANSPORTATION. WE’RE HEADED TO DEL MAR TONIGHT. MY SUITE IS BOOKED BUT WILL NEED TONIGHT ADDED TO THE RESERVATION. BOOK ANOTHER SUITE FOR YOU. I’M SURE YOU’LL TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING.”
The last sentence was purposely ambiguous. There was more to my travel than securing a company plane and a hotel room. There would be people, people I rarely saw. Just knowing they were there was enough. I had other things to concern myself with. Deloris would take care of everything else.
She replied immediately:
“IT WILL BE DONE BEFORE YOU GET TO THE OFFICE.”
A few minutes later, as I turned on the treadmill, my wrist buzzed with an incoming message.
“PLANE WILL BE READY BY 3PM.”
There were a few appointments to rearrange, but it was doable. I was headed to Del Mar.
Three
Alexandria
I lifted my chin to the salty sea breeze, allowing my long auburn hair to float around my face as the Southern California sun warmed my cheeks. The large-brimmed hat in my grasp would soon save me from the dangers hidden within the warm rays.