Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips (16 page)

* * *

Michael Deeves gave the Tripartite his usual devilish smile as he stopped by their table to say hello.

“Good morning, Bombshells!”

“Hey there, handsome!” they greeted him in unison, all smiling as usual whenever Michael stopped by.

He leaned in and gave them all kisses on the cheeks.

“May I speak to you lovely ladies for a sec?”

“Sure.”

“We are all aware of what’s gone down with Dotty, right?”

“Honey, you couldn’t help from knowing unless you’ve been buried under a rock.” Indignant, Irene shared her quip with an air of dismissal.

“Lord, yes,” piped in Maria-Angela, while Natasha just shook her head up and down several times.

“Well, remember her sweet little girl Brit?” The ladies became somewhat silent. Their indignant facial expressions softening into that of concern and sympathy.

“How is she?” Irene asked, as the other two keenly waited for the answer.

“Not well as you can imagine. Regardless of what we think of Dotty, and believe me, you don’t know the half of it, there is an innocent, sweet young woman out there pretty much alone right now.

“I remember her well, so adorable,” Natasha offered.

“I’m taking donations to help her get through this nightmare. I’ve asked her to meet me for lunch today.”

The three women immediately opened up their purses and pooled $153 dollars and handed it to Michael.

“Hold on a minute, Michael” Irene pulled out her checkbook and wrote out an additional check for $200 dollars.

“I remembered that she is in school and the market has been good to me lately.”

“Thank you so much, ladies. Dotty had a dark side, but we must not forget the good, and Brit had no part in this. You all are wonderful people. All of you, thank you.” The three of them pulled him in for another hug and kiss. A $500 dollar donation from Cino and Victoria adding it to $3000 given from Chalon, Gavin, Summer, and Sam. The only unwilling member of the Schwab’s group of regulars who did not give was Jacques, who refused to give a nickel.

Michael knew Dotty a bit better than the others and she had always shown a genuine interest in his work over the years as he wrote and drank her coffee for hours on end.

“I’ll offer to take Brit under my wing if I have to. I’m pretty sure I remember Dotty and Ralph not having very much family here. If she’s left alone, those fucking tabloids will eat her alive.” Thinking to himself while getting protective.

Brit was unbearably depressed.

“How could everything be normal and happy one day, then you wake and your entire world has been turned upside down, inside out!” she confided in a friend.

Every night before falling asleep she wondered to herself, “Who am I, and who is my mother’s other family?”

Her father’s family lived in the East and there was only a few of them.

“Considering what has happened, Aunt Marjorie has got to tell me whatever it is she knows about my mother. I want to see those documents. If only to save what little sanity I have left. I just can not go through life in this state.” Fighting back an endless reservoir of tears. The crying would just erupt morning, noon, and night.

She jumped at the ringing phone. She was startled as it pierced the silent thought she was engulfed in and picked it up out of reflex, hesitating, thinking it might be one of those awful papers. She mustered a forceful, “Hello!”

“Brit?”

“Who is this?” Thinking that she recognized the voice, then instantly doubting herself. Immediately convinced it was just a sense of desperation of wanting to recognize it.

“It’s Michael Deeves, a friend of your mother’s, remember me?”

“Oh Michael! It is so nice to hear from you!” Sounding more like a plea than a hello.

“How are you holding up?”

“Not well. I kinda don’t know which way to turn right now. I’m sure you’ve read all the horrible things those papers are saying. On top of my mom’s … .” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

“I called to see if you are available for lunch today?”

“Yes, yes, yes. I would love that!”

“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve been a little worried about you. I’ll pick you up at 11:00, is that OK?”

“That sounds great!”

“What’s the new address in Sherman Oaks?”

“Thank you, Michael.”

Brit was very thankful that Michael had called. It helped she couldn’t just hide from the world and that she needed to pull her life back together. And more importantly, that she wasn’t all alone in the world even with the fight going on between her and her father.

Chapter Thirty

The rise of Brit!

“Wow! Look at you! It seems like you were just starting college yesterday. Now, you are so grown up!”

“And on my own now,” she spoke sadly.

Michael gave her a big tight hug.

“You’ve got your father and you will always have us. Listen, I know it hasn’t been easy with all that trash printed in those terrible rags, but understand that you can depend on some of us. We’ve known your mother for a very long time. I saw her everyday.”

“They all hate her now.”

“That’s not true, not at all. We really don’t know what she did and did not do. What your mother did might appear to have been underhanded, but don’t lose sight of the fact that in many respects that’s how business and success is conducted in this town. And we might not like it, but that’s the reality of it.”

“I am so confused by it all, Michael. Her cheating on Dad. And Dad cheating on her.”

“That part is a little out of my league. I’m afraid I wasn’t privy to those actions. I knew your mother as a decent person. More importantly, her actions do not have to be the light that guides you in life. We all must make our own path in the world, Brit.”

“If only I had some family to turn to.”

“Life is about mountains and valleys, you can not appreciate the mountains without experiencing the valleys. And I believe you have a ton of beautiful mountains in your future. You will be a stronger person down the road after all of this blows over.”

“I hope so. Though, I can’t imagine that right now. I just want to tide you over for a little while. We know you just finished school, so it’s kinds of a graduation present from us.”

With that Michael handed Brit an envelope full of cash and checks.

She was speechless. “I don’t know how to thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to be able to stay with my father considering what happened.”

“It’s the least we could do for you.” Michael hugged her again.

“Please let the others know how grateful I am. I’d come by to thank them personally, but I don’t think that I can ever go inside Schwab’s again, which is strange because I have so many happy memories growing up there.” Sounding very melancholy.

The next day, Brit was left a note by her father telling her that he had been informed that Dotty had left a will. He had a copy of it for her.

“P.S. Your mother left bank accounts totaling $1.1 million dollars, plus this paid for, clear-titled house we just moved into. Don’t ask me how, I have no idea. I miss you, Love Daddy.”

“Where on earth did Mama get that kind of money? The tabloids? Could she have possibly made that much money?” These were questions that she most likely would never find the answers to.

The will explained how “my current possessions, including cash, is to be shared equally between my only child, Brit, and my beloved husband Ralph.”

“She had loved Daddy after all. He still doesn’t deserve a penny after cheating on her. Then she wondered if he had found out about her cheating?” She was afraid to ask.

“I have to talk to him. I really need some kind of closure, especially with this hurricane swirling around me.”

“I just want to know who I am, and who did my mother come from. If I can only figure out my next step in life. Just little things like everyone else.” She managed a light smile.

“Aunt Marjorie, it’s Brit. I need to see you.”

“Come on over, dear. I’d love to see you too.”

Brit threw a disguise on and fled out the side entrance of the house and walked down the alley to her car parked on a street around the corner.

“Finally, I am going to get some straight answers out of Aunt Marjorie!” She was determined not to leave until she had the answers once and for all.

“Aunt Marjorie, I know mother was adopted. What do you know about this and I really want to see those papers? Now!”

The feeble old lady told her everything as she read every document in her aunt’s possession. It was too unbelievable to comprehend.

“And that’s why I never told your mother,” the old lady said.

The information from her aunt … or the old lady whom she always assumed was her aunt, just about sent her over the edge. She sat numb, with a blank stare on her face until her old aunt started crying.

“You are going to hate me now. I know it. Honey, I’ve loved you and your mother as if you were my own. I was even going to take your mother and raise her had George not come along around the same time. Then your Uncle John died suddenly right after George’s birth. Please don’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Auntie. So, you are telling me mother never knew any of this all through the years? She never had any idea that she came from one of the wealthiest families in the world? Didn’t you ever try to tell her about her real mother?”

“I couldn’t because I had given my word. Later on, after I had a change of heart, there was just no way to contact her mother because, unfortunately, they had all perished in that awful sinking of the
Andrea Doria
in ‘56. Also, they could have destroyed me or had me put in jail, and I had a baby to raise. Oh, please, my dear, try to understand,” Brit’s aunt pleaded with her while sobbing.

“I do. I want you to know, I love you more than I ever have. You have lifted a very heavy burden from my soul,” Brit assured her.

“Thank you, my little one. Thank you for understanding.” Her old aunt was grateful.

“My mother was always impressed by people who seemed to have more material possessions than us. She struggled so hard to give me things she never had. And that passion of hers to live in Sherman Oaks! It used to drive me nuts! How odd it is to find out that she came from a family that could buy half of Los Angeles.”

“What are you going to do, dear?”

“Does anyone else know about this?” she asked.

“Only the police. They came here wanting to know about your mother’s history. They seemed to know that I was a relative. Well … you know what I mean.”

“Yes, auntie. I am the one who told them about you. I mean that you were a relative of ours. Does any of the Stanford family know?” Brit nervously asked

“That I don’t know. Just be careful, my sweet one. Rich, powerful families can be dangerous people sometimes when their money is involved. I want you to promise me you will take care of yourself,” the aunt begged.

“I will, aunt Marjorie, I give you my word.”

Saying goodbye to her aged aunt, Brit held her tighter than she had ever held her before, holding on to her as if she were a direct link to her mother. This was the same woman that had helped bring her mother into the world as a baby. She couldn’t imagine feeling any closer to an aunt.

“Now, I have to figure out what to do with all of this. Do I try to make contact with them? They will probably think I am some crazy nut job. Maybe I should talk to detective Rocco and Elsa about what to do. I’ll wait before telling Dad any of this.” Finally, a small amount of calm had returned to his state of being.

She had started down the path to find out who she was. Half of her was a Stanford.

“Now, I only hope that Dad is a real Henderson at this point.” She managed a smile and a light giggle.

One thing she did not intend to let happen was for those filthy tabloids to get a hold of this. “They’ll destroy what little shred of a possible future I still have.”

“Can you imagine, ’Lost billionaire heiress turned waitress with tawdry past.’ No thank you, very much!”

“I wonder if I am even legally one of them, a Stanford?” Maybe Michael can help?” she thought.

Chapter Thirty-One

Battle with Clay

The congressman was abiding by his blackmail agreement with Clay III. He saw to it that the initial vote for Castle’s bid was approved.

The senator was a different story. He refused and did all he could to see to that Castle Industries was not chosen. He also knew that his entire life was about to implode before him. Could he fight back? He debated with himself as to what his options where. Even if he exposed Clay with accusations, he had no proof.

Senator Masters had worked hard for everything he held dear in life, his family, profession, beliefs, honor. Yet, he had allowed it all to slip away with the temptation of overpowering wealth and decadence.

He spent many nights alone wondering what had motivated him to go on that fateful trip to Monte Carlo, without his wife or son. Why had he thrown all caution to the wind with such a reckless abandonment?

“As much as I despise that piece of shit Clay Stanford III, I have no one to blame but myself,” he owned it.

It was him and him alone that had to face the consequences.

He spent that evening in the pews of the massive cathedral of St. Thomas. A huge church that could probably seat a few thousand worshipers. There were just a few other worshipers present, all lost in prayer or meditation.

Rick Masters walked through the huge doors drenched from the pouring rain. He was thankful that the silent emptiness of the vast church welcomed him as just another lost soul.

“I look around at those other two believers kneeling in prayer, positive that neither of them are facing the end of life as I am.” He didn’t say this out of self pity. He stated it as a simple fact. He knew his wife would divorce him, his son would hate him, he would cast a stain upon his family, and lose the trust of the people he served. He was no longer worthy of any of it. Whatever the outcome, he was far from the precipice of suicide. That would have to wait … at least until he had extracted his searing revenge. It was at that moment he made up his mind to face the coming storm that was about to shatter his life.

“I will tell my wife first and foremost.”

His fall would be swift and steep, that much he was certain of. He had tried to do the right thing throughout his life. He’d led an exemplary life up until that moment.

“How could I have allowed a kid of 24 to manipulate me in such an easy manner? Why would it matter that he did it to blackmail me? He’s worth billions, they would never believe that he needed a crooked deal.”

He couldn’t prove anything. Clay Stanford had been terribly generous to him and his son. Besides, the construction company belonged to his father. There simply was nothing to link Clay to the blackmail. He bowed, leaned forward, put his head in his clasped hands, and prayed.

“I pray for your forgiveness, Heavenly Father.”

Thirty minutes later, rising from his knees, he had but one thought burning in his mind. “No friend ever served me, and no enemy ever wronged me, whom I have not repaid in full.” So stated his historical mentor, General Lucius Corniallius Sulla. Now he was determined to seek his revenge.

“I will seek it silently, methodically, and patiently, but I shall have it before I leave this world” was his spiritual conclusion as a man facing total destruction of all he knew and loved. He was now at peace and accepted in his heart the inevitable.

Clay III wasted no time in unleashing his devastating attack on the senator. By the next morning anonymous packages arrived with no return address to
MOUTH
,
National Radar
, Mrs. Masters, The U.S. Senate’s Majority Leader, and the Senate’s Select Committee on Ethics. The packages contained copies of the film starring Senator Masters shot on location in Monte Carlo.

The retribution was immediate and shattering. Senator Masters was stripped of all committee posts effective immediately. His resignation was requested by the President via the Vice President as head of the U.S. Senate.

Within a week’s time he was censured by the Senate, which promptly launched an investigation.

His wife ordered him out of their home, and he was excommunicated by his son. Rick Masters found that he was generally persona non grata wherever he went.

The tabloids had renamed him “The Seedy, Stealing, Sex-crazed Senator from Monte Carlo.”

He hid out by the beach in a cheap $65.00 dollar a night motel.

Mrs. Masters filed for divorce the same week, and proceeded to set his boxed belongings in the garage for him to pick up.

“He’s dead as far as I’m concerned” was her only statement to the press.

His son hung up on him after telling him, “Don’t ever contact me again.”

No one from his past would have anything to do with him except his elderly mother. His father refused to even acknowledge him on the phone when he called, passing it to his mother without a word.

Senator Masters responded with his resignation from the Senate and agreed to the divorce, giving his wife whatever she wanted. He also respected his son’s wishes and never attempted to contact him again.

He fell from a personal net worth of $4 million dollars to $150,000 left to him by his wife.

Then he disappeared from the face of the earth.

“It has all come to pass and I am still alive. Alive only because I will have my revenge.”

Occasionally, he walked along the beach and the marina, instinctively holding his head down when passing others out of fear of being recognized, afraid that if they stared those few extra seconds he would be discovered. He was desperately lonely as he would replay his former life over and over in his head, aimlessly staring at the beautiful yachts anchored in the evening light. He unknowingly strolled past the gigantic yacht
Cosmos
when he recognized Clay III amongst the people on board. While standing a safe distance away, he watched as the cocktail party onboard unfolded and the sun sank into the sea. He recalled how Clay had informed him that he spent all of his weekends onboard the family’s yacht, and how much he loved the sea because it provided him with all of his favorite foods. That he was in fact a huge lover of almost all seafood. The details came flooding back as he inhaled the fresh ocean air. The smell of the sea and salt water refreshed him. He remembered Clay had introduced them to his sushi chef one weekend as they enjoyed a ride out to Avalon onboard the yacht.

“That’s it! I’ve found the crack in his armor!” he quietly told himself.

With that, his face filled with color again and the air invigorated him. He couldn’t sleep that night as his mind raced from thought to thought.

“I’ll enroll in a sushi academy tomorrow.”

“The marina will be the perfect place for me to rebuild my life.” He had found the light that was to guide him out of darkness.

The ex-senator threw himself into his new mission. He located and enrolled in a condensed professional sushi master class. He was an excellent, determined student driven by his revenge. He spent his down time learning every detail he could about the life of Clay III. From a safe distance he learned all he could about the weekend comings and goings aboard the
Cosmos
.

It was a massive, beautiful yacht with a large staff to run her. It appeared that Clay III was the primary user of it on a regular basis.

Masters kept up with Clay III’s successful bid in securing the state construction contract, spearheaded by the congressman who also received a hefty re-election donation from him.

The
Cosmos
sat unused during the week, except for the permanent staff aboard. Rick took advantage of this time to strike up friendships with members of the crew. He introduced himself as a fellow yacht owner and marina neighbor. During these casual conversations, he learned who the master chef was and waited for the day to begin an unassuming conversation on the docks with the chef regarding food. This in turn led Rick to extend an invitation to the chef for a chat on the boat.

“Its really a pretty sweet job because it’s only the son that spends very much time onboard, and he is a seafood and raw vegetables kind of guy,” the chef shared.

“Wow! I’m a seafood fanatic myself. What does he prefer?” Rick casually asked.

This led to the discussion of Clay’s passion for seafood delicacies.

“Sashimi, lots of shellfish, mussels, clams, and when I can get it, blowfish! His favorite is fugu, I’m a licensed fugu chef. Been with the family for four years. Terrific people, very kind and generous. You’d think the young man would be a spoiled brat, him being the sole heir to all those billions! Not at all! We love him!” The chef seemed willing to keep talking, so Rick let him.

“Its amazing what a few bottles of pinot grigio aboard a beautiful rented yacht can do,” The ex-senator thought, smiling to himself at the success of his undercover accomplishment.

Rick overheard from his covert observations that both chef Kazuo and his employer, Clay Stanford, were great connoisseurs of Italian opera.

“I hope you don’t mind the Verdi and Puccini,” Rick said to the chef.

“Are you joking! I am in heaven, man! Outside of my love for food and wine, opera is my passion!” the chef told him.

“You are a class act, Chef Kazuo.”

“You know, Jason, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Stanford this weekend. I’ve only extended this kind of invitation a few times in all these years, but I think the two of you would get along great.” Referring to Rick’s alias.

“That’s a terrific show of friendship, Kazuo. Unfortunately, I’ll be away this weekend, maybe some other time,” he lied as coolly as an Oscar winning leading man.

“Some other time then.”

“Not if I can help it, my friend,” Rick thought to himself. “By the way, who’s your seafood supplier? I am always on the lookout for the best.”

“Man oh man, do I have one for you! He’s very expensive, but the best in L.A. Always the freshest you can find. I’ve used him for the last two years. Comes from a family that’s been in the fishing business for 70 years. His name is Kai Miyako, I can give you his number,” the chef volunteered.

“That would be great! And I’ll owe you some fresh sashimi!” replied Rick

“This sure is a beautiful boat you have, man!” admired Chef Kazuo.

“It’s for sale! Wanna buy it?” They laughed and toasted with another glass of pinot in the Villeroy & Boch crystal.

* * *

Rick showed up on the fishing docks in Malibu to meet the seafood supplier the next day. He told the fisherman that he was in training and was looking for a five-star quality supplier, then slipped him a crisp, new $100-dollar bill. He was in.

The fisherman quickly cozied up to him after Rick slipped him $100 extra when he alerted him that he was selling the top stuff to him first. Rick stroked his ego, “Hey, Kai, I’m finishing up master sushi chef training and I’d like to maybe get some feedback from some top clients if I could. I have an offer for you that’s a win win for both of us. Let me prepare some beautiful, first class sashimi platters for a few of your clients and you can submit them as yours in appreciation for their business. All I ask for in return is their feedback. You can let me know what they think? It’s as easy as that! You get the praise; I get the feedback. I hear you have some of the Top Dogs!” As he slipped him another $100.

“Not some, but the top! How about the Stanford family! Been supplying them for a couple years now, both for their yacht and in town … exclusively!” he proudly boasted.

“Wow! That is impressive, man! Well then, I’ll make it especially for the Stanfords!”

“You know what, Jason, you’ve got yourself a deal!” Kai said while thinking what a score he was getting out of this.

“I’ll make sure you get my first big order and all the ones after that!” He’d sealed the deal.

* * *

“Showtime!” Rick smiled to himself. “This will be a meal that little motherfucker will never forget. In fact, hopefully, it will be his last memory on earth.”

Rich Masters, ex U.S. Senator, newly licensed sushi chef, and man with a vendetta spent the evening meticulously preparing the food. Every detail was adhered to.

He played “The Flower Duet” by Viens, between Lakme and Mallika in Leo Delibes’ opera
Lakme
while he prepared his nemesis’ last supper. The opera’s magnificent melody melded perfectly as he slowly sliced through the delicate flesh of the deadly seafood. The food that would free him from what had become the unearthly bonds of his torturer and master … revenge.

“No. There will be no suicide for me, not yet anyway.”

He rose early that Saturday morning after the deepest sleep he had experienced since before Monte Carlo. For the first time since his fall into the depths of despair, he smiled at himself in the mirror. He did not allow judgment to enter into the final steps of his perceived freedom from this disgraced hell. It was time for the star of this unfortunate drama to be served for the last time.

He met Kai on the pier.

“Morning, Jason!” Sam enthusiastically greeted the ex-senator by his alias.

I’ve prepared something very special for Mr. Stanford, and I brought a sample for you to try as well. I only ask that you make sure you deliver it as is. Unwrapped, it risks the danger of losing its freshness and I’ve sealed it so that it can only be opened once. Trust me, you will definitely be hearing from them after he tastes this! I’ve gone a little overboard to impress them.”

“Thank you, my friend! I think this will work out for both of us! Just don’t forget who helped you get your start! These platters look incredible!” He couldn’t believe his luck.

“Jason, I will never forget what you’ve done for me. Never.” He had never spoken truer words.

* * *

Clay III had two major loose ends to wrap up. The senator and Dotty, aka “that atrocious woman” as he referred to his newly discovered aunt.

He later tried to explain his actions of hiring a private investigator to his father.

“I did it as a surprise for you, Dad. Imagine, what a gift it would be for you, if in fact it turned out to be true, and I found her on my own accord without you knowing it! Sadly, Pop, she wasn’t the one. Thank goodness, considering what just happened.” Referring to Dotty’s murder.