He would ask for advice as to how and where to start such an undertaking. At the end of the day, if everyone had completed their duties, the crew, dockmaster, and sometimes Ruffing himself would gather at the marina bar and have a few drinks. That’s when Noah thought it would be a good time to discuss his brother’s plan. Be casual, he kept repeating to himself.
There were about five people enjoying their beers and margaritas. Noah looked for signs of Ruffing, hoping he would show up. He didn’t know if he’d have the guts to mention it if he thought about it much longer. From behind, he heard a familiar voice. “Ahoy, mates!” It was Ruffing’s regular greeting. “Drinks all around.” He motioned with his finger to the twentysomething blonde who was tending bar. She was wearing a T-shirt that said GOLDEN SHORES MARINA, modified by cutting off the sleeves, deepening the neckline, and trimming enough inches off the bottom that her midriff would show if she stretched her arms above her head. In reality, she didn’t have to stretch too far for her upper lady-parts to be on display. The high-end liquor was on the shelf above her head. Not very convenient, but necessary for “the show” to continue. Her name tag said DAISY. She flashed a dazzling smile at Ruffing.
They probably go to the same dentist, Noah thought to himself. He also got the impression that Ruffing and Daisy might have had a roll in the hay more than once.
This is a top-rated marina. Why would you want to have an employee who looks a bit trashy? Because ...
After two beers, and a shot of tequila, also known as “courage,” Noah had the guts to bring up the subject, as informally as he could muster.
“So, get this. My brother wants to start an ashram.” He paused to see if Ruffing was remotely interested in discussing his brother’s soul-searching mission. He waited a beat. “You know, one of those places where people sit around and meditate, chant, ring bells, burn incense, and who-knows-what-all.”
Ruffing turned to him. “Yes, you and your brother seem to be vastly different. Considering you’re twins.” He took a pull of his fancy cocktail. “Except for the sandy hair, light brown eyes, and athletic build, you couldn’t be any more different.” Another pull.
Noah was almost sheepish when he offered up the family debacle as an excuse. But it wasn’t very far from the truth. “It was because of Sidney.” Noah refused to refer to the man who had put their family into bankruptcy as Dad, Father, or any other familial noun. “In addition to his having all his assets forfeited, being arrested, convicted, and hauled off to jail, our mother flew the coop to London before all that went down, taking the rest of the family money with her. That happened right after New Year’s. She must have known something was going to happen even though it took months before he was arrested, when we were just about to graduate from college.” Noah was pensive, recalling the shock of their fall into poverty. “Liam was always more sensitive and wanted to pursue his studies. At that point, I didn’t give a crap about anything except trying to make money.” Noah looked directly at Ruffing. “That’s when I came to you for a job. The rest you know.”
Noah signaled for another shot of Casamigos, the tequila brand that was founded by actor George Clooney. Noah stared at the bottle of distilled golden agave juice, recalling that Clooney and his partner had sold the company for one billion dollars. Money makes more money, he thought to himself.
He was startled back into the conversation when Ruffing said, “Liam seems like a very sincere, stand-up guy.” Another swig. “So tell me about your brother’s fantasy.” Ruffing leaned his elbow on the highly polished teak bar and flashed his pearly whites at Noah.
Noah gave Ruffing the basic details. The spiritual goals. The property. The nonprofit.
Ruffing straightened up from his slightly lounging position. His interest was piqued by the last two concepts. Property and nonprofit.
“Where is the property?”
“At the far end of Homestead. Practically in the Everglades. It used to be a coconut farm, but after the Army Corps of Engineers messed up the Glades, the water table rose, so they lost a lot of the farmable area. There’s a main building I assume was a residence, a large barn, and several other buildings.”
“What’s the acreage?” Ruffing asked, to Noah’s surprise.
“From what Liam told me, the property itself is twenty acres, but it backs up against the national park.” Noah squinted into the setting sun.
“Get the coordinates and meet me at the heliport tomorrow morning at nine. We’ll be out of the local TV station ‘chopper news’ cycle by then.” He used the air quotes to refer to the recent issues with airspace traffic.
Miami International Airport served over twenty million passengers a year. Throw in Fort Lauderdale, Opa-Locka, and Key West, with their three executive airports, plus Homestead Air Reserve Base, and you had a jet propulsion circus only ten thousand feet above a thriving metropolis. It could get quite messy up there. There had already been two collisions, resulting in one death, over the past eight months. But Ruffing used his personal chopper daily and knew the best times to commute. And he paid through the nose for the finest gear and personnel, and whomever he had to pay to always be next in line at the helipads. Having the flexibility to get up and over the city within minutes was a time-saver, even if he had to pay through the nose.
Sometimes he would travel by water, up and down the Intracoastal. But a helicopter got him crosstown in under ten minutes. Traversing Miami Beach took even less time. But he usually used one of his boats to go from his marina to Star Island, on which he owned an elaborate forty-five-million-dollar waterfront estate. Star Island and two other exclusive islands, Hibiscus and Palm, were located in Biscayne Bay. The famous and infamous had resided there at one time or another. Celebrities like Gloria and Emilio Estefan, Shaquille O’Neal, and of course, Al Capone, who had owned a house on Palm Island. It was rumored that J. Edgar Hoover had bought a house on the opposite shore so he could keep a personal eye on the gangster. Ruffing loved to brag about his neighbors and the history, to whoever would listen. Which was pretty much everyone. This evening’s cocktail hour was no exception. This time it was a complaint about some major hip-hop artists and unruly party guests who tried to trespass on his dock. “Man, you pay people to mind the fort, and they let anyone in.” He was referring to the security guard and the gate that only allowed residents and their guests on to the small enclaves by car. “Musta paid them a chunk. But whatever ...”
He knew full well it was easy enough to get people on and off the island. All you really needed was a boat. And he had plenty at his disposal. He was satisfied he had pleased his audience with another almost-celebrity-sighting and the pains of the enormously rich.
Ruffing stood and slapped Noah on the back. “See you in the morning.” He nodded and winked at the bartender, indicating that she should put everyone’s drinks on his tab, and left.