Crown Jewel (6 page)

He'd come to say good-bye, but he couldn't get the words past his lips. Good-byes were too final. He stood up and dusted off the seat of his pants. “I'll be back.”

Ricky was surprised to see Roxy waiting for him by her car. At least he thought she was waiting for him. He walked toward her. “Is there a problem with your car, Roxy?”

“No. I guess I just wanted one of those last, spit-in-your-eye good-byes. I figure I earned it.”

Ricky remained silent because he didn't know what to say. Suddenly, a wave of compassion washed over him when he saw the tears in her eyes and her slumped shoulders. Just for one second, she reminded him of his mother when she was tired and weary at the end of the day.

He found his tongue, and said, “I'd like to go through my brother's personal effects if you don't mind. I'm leaving in the morning so it would have to be either now or later this evening.”

Roxy squared her shoulders as she stared up into Ricky's eyes. “Obviously you have me mixed up with someone who cares about your wants and desires.” Her voice was so cold, Ricky flinched. “Permission denied.” Before he could digest his sister-in-law's biting retort, she was in the car driving away.

Ricky felt like a tired old dog when he climbed into his own car for the drive home.

The heat and humidity slapped at them as they exited the plane. Ricky immediately yanked at his shirt and tie, then rolled up his sleeves. Ted Lymen watched out of the corner of his eye as Ricky's gaze swept the crowds of people meeting the plane or seeing friends and family off. Where was the red carpet he knew Ricky was expecting?

They waited, their shirts wet with sweat, for forty-five minutes. “Okay, let's take a cab,” Ricky said, annoyed.

Ted gathered up his gear and followed Ricky to the nearest waiting taxi. If he was pissed, he knew Ricky was doubly pissed. The ride to the resort was made in total silence.

Ricky seethed in silence, refusing even to look out the window at the landscape. His employees at the resort had just failed his first test. Standard procedure was that each guest be picked up at the airport in the resort's Lincoln Continental. No guests, to his knowledge, ever had to provide their own transportation to the resort. Especially, the new owner.

His rage was white-hot when he hopped out of the taxi under the portico. One of the valets was lounging against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Ricky slapped it out of his hand, and said, “You're fired!” Inside, he looked for the concierge, who was busy talking to one of the bellmen. Neither man looked at Ricky; they just continued talking. He waited, his eyes on his Tag watch. Finally, the concierge acknowledged him. “Oh, Mr. Lam. It's nice to see you again. I'm sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Not half as sorry as I am. You're fired. That goes for you, too,” he said to the bellman.

Within forty-five minutes Ricky had fired half the staff and called a meeting of all personnel. “Somebody damn well better have an answer for me,” he thundered, as his fist hit the polished teakwood table.

They all started to babble at once. The one name that was repeated over and over was
Roxy.
“Roxy took care of that. Roxy was in charge of that. Roxy made the rounds. Roxy did this and that and everything else in between.”
Roxy, Roxy, Roxy
.

“There was no one to tell us what to do,” one of the desk clerks said timidly.

“What the hell is this?” Ricky said, upending a box that was big enough to hold three loaves of bread. When no one responded, he said, “They're complaints! Pick them up and correct whatever is wrong. Now! Consider this, you're all on notice. If you want to keep your jobs, hop to it. Otherwise, leave now!”

Ricky stormed out of the conference room and headed for Roxy's office. He took one step inside and backed out again. He found himself blinking at the wide array of plants, knickknacks from grateful guests, pictures of Roxy with satisfied guests, pictures of Roxy with politicians. There were no pictures of Philly anywhere to be seen. There was, however, a picture of Reba on Roxy's desk.

It was a working office, with a computer, printer, fax, telephone console, and wall-to-wall, antique white filing cabinets. White wicker furniture with colorful cushions matched draperies on the louvered windows that looked out onto the lush landscaping that was ragged at best. Obviously everyone was asleep at the switch. He cursed ripely.

Did my brother run the resort, or did my brother's wife?

Ted Lymen poked his head in the door. “You got them on the run, boss. I think I just saw Brad Pitt out there heading for the golf carts. You might want to welcome him before he heads home and does some verbal damage. I took it upon myself to throw out the dead flowers in the lobby. I called the florist and told them I was you. I gave them ten minutes to get their asses out here. If it's okay with you, I'm going to find the head gardener and kick some ass.”

“Go for it. If they look at you crossways, fire them. Hell, I know how to mow lawns.”

“Gotcha!”

Ricky sat down in Roxy's chair. It was too small for his tall frame. Directly in his line of vision was a bulletin board with an oversize calendar in the middle. He stared at the different notations. If she had done everything that was penciled in, she must have been one busy lady. What had Philly done?

A quiet knock sounded on Roxy's door. “Come in,” he called.

“Mr. Lam, I'm Donna Pascal, Roxy's assistant. Isn't she coming back? She said she would call me, but I haven't heard from her. I know she's in mourning but…” She knuckled her wet eyes. “I tried to keep up, but it got away from me. Roxy was the authority figure here, the glue that held it all together. All she had to do was look at someone. She never had to say a word. Now, that's not to say she was mean or anything. She was fair, generous, and she cared about the employees. She never missed anyone's birthday, and she always gave a present. She made a point of going to all the weddings and family funerals, that kind of thing. Oftentimes she worked till midnight and was back at her desk at six when the new shift came on. Is she coming back?”

“I don't know, Donna. So what you're saying is, Roxy ran this resort?”

“And the other one in Aruba. The two of us used to fly there on Tuesdays and Saturdays and work all day. She has good employees there whom she trusts.”

Ricky wanted to ask her what Philip had done while Roxy was taking care of business, but he didn't. “Thanks for coming by, Donna. Do the best that you can until I can get a handle on things.”

“I'm sorry about your brother, Mr. Lam. I didn't really know him, or see him all that much. Tell Roxy I asked about her, and tell her I miss her.”

“I'll do that, Donna.”

When the door closed behind Roxy's assistant, Ricky got up and moved to one of the white wicker chairs. He got up an instant later and sat back down at the desk. He opened the drawers. Everything was neat and tidy. It was obvious Roxy had a system that worked. He fished out her planner, opened it, and gawked at what she accomplished in a day.

Superwoman. Ricky ran his fingers through his hair as he tried to fathom all he was seeing and hearing. This couldn't be the same Roxy he knew back in Los Angeles. Did she have two personas? Philly had led him to believe Roxy spent all her time on Rodeo Drive or sitting on a satin cushion. Once, he'd told him that she spent most of her time in the bar or on the beach when they were on the islands. Something was wrong here. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

He lifted the blotter and was surprised to find a sheaf of papers. He scanned them quickly, then put them aside. They looked like something he might want to read at another time.

The phone was in his hand a moment later. He hoped he didn't live to regret what he was about to do. He waited while the phone rang and rang on the other end of the line. Her voice sounded sleepy or maybe just raspy because she'd been crying.

“Roxy, it's Ricky. How would you like your old job back? Name your salary. Or if you want a slice of the business, we can discuss it. I've only been here at the resort in Antigua a little over an hour, and even I can see things are falling apart…. What do I mean? Well, no one met me at the airport. I called ahead to make the arrangements. One of the valets was standing up against the wall smoking a cigarette. I fired him. I've been firing people right and left. There's a box of complaints that weighs about twenty pounds, and I'm probably going to be the one who mows the lawn in the morning. Charter a plane and get here as soon as you can. That's if you want your job back.” Ricky waited, knowing Roxy would say yes. What he heard stunned him.

Bitterness rang in Roxy's raspy voice. “Oh, all of a sudden I'm good enough for Lam Enterprises. Thanks but no thanks. Was there anything else,
Mister
Lam?”

Stunned, Ricky held the phone away from his ear. “Would it help if I came back to Los Angeles and got down on my knees and begged you. Roxy, this place is
dirty.”

“No, it wouldn't help one bit. They have soap and water for the situations you describe. And cleaning solvents. Put an ad in the paper or call an agency. I have to hang up now, Ricky. Don't call me again either.”

“Roxy, wait, don't hang up. Whatever you were making, I'll double it.”

The hysterical laughter on the other end of the phone sent shivers up Ricky's spine. “Okay, triple. Whatever it takes, Roxy. Full benefits.”

“Your brother paid me a token salary of $25,000 a year, Ricky. No overtime. My life was those resorts, and you ripped it the hell away from me. I know that doesn't say much for me, but it's the way it is. I'm way too old to go out there kicking and scratching. You and your brother owe me more than you can ever pay in a lifetime.”

“What in the hell are you saying, Roxy? Running these resorts is at barest minimum a two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar-a-year job.” He heard the hysterical laughter again but this time he could hear the choked sobs behind it.

“Are you calling me a liar, Ricky? Check the payroll records. Your brother was a son of a bitch. Look, I wasn't always an angel either. I got greedy and I tried to forge those insurance policies. I'm not proud of that either, but I did it, and I'm not going to lie about it.”

Later he would think about all his sister-in-law said. “A lifetime contract or a contract that stays in effect for as long as the resorts are in business. Two hundred fifty thousand a year plus benefits.”

“Three-fifty and six weeks vacation,” Roxy shot back.

“Three hundred and five weeks vacation.”

“Not in this lifetime, Bubba. And complete control of the operation. What I say goes. I always listen, and if your way is better than mine, we go with what's best for the resort. Take it or leave it,
Mister
Lam.”

Ricky felt dizzy with relief. “Okay, Roxy, you got yourself a deal. Before we hang up, I just want to say I had no idea…”

“Yeah, it sounds good now. You took your percentage. Did you
ever
look at the books? Even once? Another thing, Ricky, I want something built into the contract. Three years from now, if everything is rosy and the resorts are making money, I want a slice of the pie. Maybe not a full partnership but a very good percentage. Let's call that a sign-on bonus. Every single employee deserves and needs a raise. They also deserve a bonus at Christmastime. Philly wouldn't agree when I proposed it to him. That will be the first thing I do, Ricky. Tell me now if that's going to be a problem.”

“You said full control. That will be your decision. For whatever this is worth, Roxy, I'm glad you're back on board.”

Ricky looked down at Roxy's day planner. “This might be a stupid question, but do you mind telling me what my brother did when he was here while you were running the show? He sat around looking important? He was visible but untouchable? Of course…he handled the money end of things. I think I get the picture…Why do I ask? I'll tell you when I see you tomorrow. We can talk about it more then.”

Ricky closed the door to Roxy's office. He walked down to another office, which looked like it handled the billing and the other resort activities. He stopped long enough to wait for someone to notice him. “Send a memo to all employees immediately. Roxy will be back on the job tomorrow. Sign it, Ricky Lam.”

 

The following morning, Ricky was everywhere as he waited for Roxy to arrive. He heard himself referred to as a spook, a hard-ass, a jerky movie star, and a nut job. He laughed to himself as his employees scurried about seeing to the wants and needs of the guests. He didn't fool himself. They weren't doing it for him or even for the guests. They were doing it for Roxy because she was coming back.

He still had a good forty minutes until his sister-in-law arrived. How best to kill the time? A trip to Philip's office certainly couldn't hurt.

At best it was spartan. There was a desk with nothing on it but a phone. The chair behind the desk was a deep burgundy in color and looked like no one had ever sat in it. Philip hadn't broken it in. How could that be? Even if all he did was sit around looking important, there should have been some kind of indentation in the buttery soft leather. There was one other chair, a club chair, covered in the same burgundy leather. It looked unused and brand-new, too. A leafy tree with yellowing leaves sat in the corner. On the narrow credenza behind his desk was a picture of their parents, pictures of this resort and the one in Aruba. There were no photographs or paintings on the wall. Nor was there a carpet. The wood floor was shiny but dusty. The hurricane shutters on the windows were open to let in the light and a view of the gardens. It looked to Ricky like a lonely room. His gym back home had more character, more life.

He sat down in the burgundy chair and opened the drawers, one at a time. Paper clips, pencils, pens, rubber bands. A day planner with blank pages. The wastebasket looked untouched, the bottom as shiny bright as the sides.
What did my brother do in here? Roxy said he sat around looking important. If the door was closed, who would have seen him? How did he pass his days? Maybe he spent more time in Aruba than he did here.
He made a mental note to ask Roxy.

He wiggled on the chair until he found the hip pocket of his khakis and withdrew the list he'd found in Roxy's office yesterday. It was four pages of handwritten sentences simply titled: Remember When…