Crown Jewel

Hollywood, California
1984

He was a tall man, immaculately dressed. At any time of the day or evening, he could have passed for a Wall Street banker or a Madison Avenue type. His hair had just the right amount of gray at the temples, his skin was burnished just enough to make him look distinguished. His Savile Row suit added the last touch. At the moment, he looked angry.

“It's not negotiable, Ricky. Either you agree, or I'm out of here, and you're on your own.”

Hollywood's Platinum Boy stared across the room at his brother. He wasn't so stoned that he didn't feel the chill racing up and down his arms. He did his best to focus, to look contrite, and knew he was failing miserably. This was where the rubber was going to meet the road. Not trusting himself to speak, he reached out for the arm of the leather sofa to sit down. Instead, he fell forward.
Shit!

Philip Lam, older by two years, felt sadness and disgust when he looked across at his handsome movie star brother. On other occasions, he would have rushed to his brother's aid, but not today. Today, yesterday, and the day before yesterday were what had brought him to this point in time.

The Platinum Boy struggled to speak. “You promised Mom…”

“Don't go there, Ricky. You screwed that up, too. You couldn't be bothered with going to see her, so don't bring up ‘promises' to me. You've used up all your markers. Either you check into the clinic, or I'll dissolve the partnership. I'm not just talking to hear my own voice this time. You will pack your stuff, and you will get to the clinic on your own. All the arrangements have been made. They're expecting you by ten this evening. One second past ten, and you're down the tubes. You have finally brought me to the end of my rope. I won't be here to pick up the pieces. Make sure you understand that, little brother.”

“Roxy's making you do this, isn't she?” Ricky said, finally coming up with something he could use to stall his brother.

“You would be wise not to go there either, Ricky. Roxy has nothing to do with this.”

“She has everything to do with it. She settled for you because I didn't want her and her baggage. You got my seconds. She's been trying to get back at me ever since. Eat shit, Philly!” When the expression in his brother's eyes turned even colder, he quickly added, “Wait a minute, wait a minute. I didn't mean that. I just got up, I'm not thinking straight. I swear, Philly, I didn't mean that.”

Philip Lam stared at his brother. After another year of drugs and booze, he'd either be dead or living in a ditch somewhere. Makeup could do just so much. Eventually, his brain would go, and he wouldn't be able to memorize a script. Looking pretty, even with nips and tucks, wouldn't cut it.

Ricky Lam, Hollywood's Platinum Boy, was tall and rugged, with unruly, sandy-colored hair that some hairstylist had highlighted for the cameras. His eyes were an incredible brown—bedroom eyes, the gossip columnists called them. His teeth were perfect, pearly white, thanks to one of Hollywood's finest dentists. Handsome. Gorgeous. A ladies' man. A man's man.

The truth was, Ricky Lam was all those things. He was also a drug addict and a boozer.

“Yes, you did mean it. Don't add lying on top of everything else. What you said about Roxy is a lie. You stalked her, Ricky. You were so strung out, you probably don't even remember it. Go to the library and look it up. It made the headlines. The headline was, ‘Platinum Boy Stalks Makeup Artist!' I refuse to have a brother I'm ashamed of. Make no mistake, I am ashamed of you. Remember what I told you about being at the end of my rope.”

“I made you rich, Philly. Really, really rich,” Ricky whined.

Philip sighed. He'd been down this road so many times he'd lost count. “Get yourself a new business manager and agent, Ricky. Every cent I made off you I damn well earned. If I hadn't invested your money, you would have stuck it all up your nose. Keep doing what you're doing, and it will be gone in two years. Do you even remember how many paternity suits I settled for you? Do you have any idea of how many times I paid out astronomical sums of money to keep your scandals out of the papers? Well, do you?”

“No,” Ricky mumbled. Suddenly he felt like shit, like he was something Philly had stepped in. He had to pay attention to what his brother was saying. He wished he could remember what he'd done the night before. It must be Sunday. Yeah, it was Sunday, or he'd be at the studio.

“When I give you your final accounting, you'll know. Now, what's it going to be?”

“How long?” Ricky mumbled again.

“As long as it takes to straighten yourself out. Considering the condition you're in, I wouldn't opt for anything under ninety days. Maybe longer. If they call me tonight and tell me you bailed, I will dissolve our business arrangement the first thing in the morning. Personally, I don't give a damn if you go or not. I don't think you have the guts. You walk the walk, talk the talk, but then you fizzle like a bad Roman candle.

“I left all the information on your desk in the study. There's a one-way plane ticket in a folder. I squared everything with the studio for six months. It was either that, or they were going to cancel your contract. The rest is up to you.”

Ricky shook his head to clear it. “Am I supposed to call you? Are you going to be checking on me? What's the drill here? I want to know what I'm getting into.”

“I told you. You're on your own. But if you need clarification, no, I am not going to call you, and no, I will not accept calls from you. The main reason is that I won't be here. I'm going to the islands to check on the resorts.”

“It's always about you, Philly,” Ricky whined again. “It's always
what
you want,
when
you want it, and
if
you want it. You're like some screwed-up ringmaster. Mom must be spinning in her grave at the way you're treating me.”

Philip Lam balled his hands into tight fists. He walked over to the chair where his brother was sitting. He unclenched his hands to grasp both arms of the chair and leaned over until he was a hair away from his brother's face. “Look in my eyes and watch my lips, Ricky. I don't give a rat's ass if you are Hollywood's Platinum Boy. I no longer care if you drink your nights away and snort your days into oblivion. I no longer care, do you understand? I'm sick and tired of being called in the middle of the night by the police and by the studio during the day. If and when you come back clean and sober, we will have another talk. That's when I'll decide if I still want to be in business with you. Or if I even want to be your brother. I don't have one iota of confidence that you can cut it, so I'm going to put all the wheels into motion starting tomorrow. If you screw up this time, all you have to do is sign on the dotted line, and our business relationship is over. I will disown you as my brother. You can pump gas for all I care.”

“Just like that,” Ricky said, rubbing his dripping nose.

“Yeah. Just like that,” Philly said quietly.

Philip looked around at the pigsty of a house his brother lived in. “You really should clean this place up. It smells just the way you smell. Like a sewer. Good-bye, Ricky.”

Outside, in the early-morning air, Roxy Lam rushed up to her husband. “What did he say? Is he all right? Are you all right, Philip?” she asked, with just the right amount of concern in her voice.

“Yes, I'm fine. I don't know if he's going to go or not. And before you can ask, yes, he tried to pull the same old crap. We'll just have to wait and see how it plays out.”

“The best thing I ever did was go to you when your brother started stalking me. It's up to Ricky now. You've gone above and beyond the call of duty. We both need to walk away from this. I have an idea. Let's you and I have breakfast at that greasy spoon we used to go to when we first met. My treat. Reba's in school, and my whole day is wide open.” Her voice was pleading, her eyes full of hope.

“That's probably the best offer I'm going to get today. Let's go.” His voice was so cold, so controlled, Roxy shivered in the warm sunshine. She just knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant breakfast. She wished that she could just go home.

Ricky Lam watched his brother and his brother's wife from the window. He started to count. Philly always came back by the time he counted to sixty. When he reached 360 he knew his brother wasn't coming back. For the first time in his life, he felt all-consuming fear.

“I hate your guts, you prick! And I hate your wife, too!” he screamed to the silence surrounding him. Startled at the venom in his voice, he slumped against the wall.