When the Siren Calls (15 page)

“So assuming you don’t make the tail end of lunch, which I expect is a safe bet, when can I now expect to see you? Will you be around to meet the Robertses?”

“I‘ll be back late afternoon. And remember that I want red carpet treatment for the Robertses.”

“It will be as if Her Majesty herself was arriving.”

“But without the smell of wet paint?”

“The Gardens of Babylon will seem like a farmer’s field by comparison.”

The attempt at humour sparked a thought in Jay. “Mrs. Roberts is into horses; it might be an idea to talk about the riding facilities we offer. The ones in the brochure.”

Eamon laughed. “Which is the only place she’ll find them.”

Jay sighed. “Just get Gina working on it. And let the Robertses know I will be taking them to dinner at eight, if they are available.”

“Dinner?” asked Eamon, surprise and shock manifest in his voice.

“Yes, Eamon, dinner,” he replied with a smile, as he remembered his body pressed close against Isobel Roberts. “I have a feeling this might be our biggest opportunity yet, and I’m going to make the most of it.”Seventeen

Andy turned into the single street that ran through the village of Capadelli and under the narrow archway beneath the clock tower with mixed emotions. He needed nothing more than to believe in miracles. But he had little faith in the non-material world and less and less faith in Jay. He pulled into the only available space and sat in his car waiting for Jay to appear, determined to wrestle control from his tormentor.

Andy leapt out of his car the moment Jay arrived, anxious to get the meeting over with. “You want a coffee?” said Andy by way of good morning, and continued on into the galley-shaped café that offered counter only service.

Jay took a seat outside watching the scruffy brown children caper up and down the steps, chuckling in their invisible games. The few locals preferred the shade of the inside to the heat of the decking, leaving the sun to the foreigners and the crazy Englishmen who prowled the Castello battlements to prey on the unwary.

Andy returned from the counter with his purchases, his concern over his finances worsened by the experience. “Five fucking Euros for two coffees, do they think that’s the Trevi fountain we’re looking at?” he said, glancing at the trickle of water running down a crumbling wall from a broken outside tap. “Last time I was here it was less than half that.”

“That’s progress,” said Jay, taking his coffee, “and it’s your own doing. You’ve put the sleepy old village on the map; you can’t blame the locals for cashing in.”

“Too right I can,” said Andy, decidedly low on generosity of spirit. “Anyway, why have you dragged me down here this morning? What’s so urgent it can’t wait till the board meeting? And what’s wrong with meeting up the hill? The coffee’s free there.”

“Take it easy,” said Jay, holding up the palms of his hands. “I’ll pay for the coffee.”

Andy’s mood lightened at Jay’s dry humour and he became more conciliatory. “It’s just that this morning is not a good time. Kate’s already chomping at the bit to get into Florence to go shopping.”

“So the longer we sit here the more money I’m saving you, right?”

Andy was less than amused and his brusque manner returned as quickly as it had left him. “What’s on your mind, Jay, because whatever it is, I’m guessing it’s something other than saving me money?”

“Before we come to that, you had a chance to walk around the development yet? It’s looking good, don’t you think, now we are no longer trying to sell while up to our cobblers in concrete.”

Andy’s ten-minute tour of Castello di Capadelli had provided unexpected reassurance. The place was much busier than he’d seen it, and it no longer looked like a money pit. At least all the hard earned treasure he had invested was showing some results. But he was not minded to give Jay any credit.

“It could almost pass for the idyllic retreat that’s described in your brochures,” he said, sarcasm coating every syllable. But other than that Jay had cost him a lot of money, he still considered him a friend, so he pulled in the horns, his point made. “You still can’t persuade Rusty to make it out here then?”

“I did ask. But she’s kind of busy right now.”

“Anything interesting?” asked Andy, unable to grasp what could be keeping the languorous socialite busy.

Jay rubbed his brow, opening his mouth and then closing it again before speaking.

“The thing is Rusty’s been spending more time in Texas lately.” He looked down at his lap for a moment before meeting Andy’s eyes with resolve. “Her mother’s on her own these days, and she’s getting on.”

Andy nodded, reading the sub-text in Jay’s words, but unsure how to proceed, afraid of his pleasantries twisting themselves into soul-searching investigations.

“I’m sorry to hear it. Maybe—”

“Anyway, it all might work itself out,” said Jay, forming his mouth into a straight smile that drew a firm line under the topic.

Jay moved the conversation back to the state of the development, cutting his usual upbeat tone. “Getting the building work complete was always the key. Just a pity it took six months longer than planned. We’ve still got to tidy up around the big pool, and finish off the fitting out of a few apartments, but the way the place looks now is more or less as good as it ever will be.”

“Until phase two, the spa and everything,” Andy reminded him.

Jay drained his cup and took a deep breath. “This may not be the best time to say this, but I think we need to re-think where we are going beyond this summer.”

Andy set his coffee down with a bang, showering opaque drops over the table that rested on the wood like tiny globes of mud. This was the last thing he expected from Jay. But then again, was it what Kate had warned him about? Jay losing interest once the selling was done. Or half done.

“Cutting and running? You know how much I’m down on this. How is pulling out early going to give me time to get back what I’ve put in?” He glared at the man opposite him as anger and disbelief took over him, scorching through his veins and clouding his mind at his betrayal.

Jay stared back at him, his mouth twisting in frank humility.

“I don’t have the answer to give you on that right now. What I do know is that my appetite for the holiday home and timeshare industry is about spent. And if I knew two years ago what I know now, I never would have gotten you into it.”

“But you did get me into it. And what do you know now that you didn’t know then? It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting into, after the last escapade.” Cold fingers of self-doubt now brushed at Andy’s anger as he realised the fragility of what he had believed.

“Tuscany has proved totally different from Malaga,” said Jay, his eyes imploring Andy to listen. “Maybe I should have done more checking on the location. The truth is I completely underestimated the complications involved in doing business in Italy, and the legal limitations on what you can actually do at a development like Capadelli. The place is a minefield of rules, regulations, and bureaucracy. And because of that, I’ve over-promised and under-delivered, and in the process cost you a lot of money. And for that I’m truly sorry.”

Andy’s eyes glazed over and he shook his head, unable to process this sudden abandonment of Jay’s perpetual swaggering confidence. But he was not convinced that Jay’s uncharacteristic humility was solely down to matters at home or to the hard lessons of doing business under the Tuscan sun.

“Come on, Jay, how much of this is really driven by the music deal, and the doors that are opening for you?”

“I’m not going to lie; the music industry opportunity has been a wake-up call, for which I thank you. And yes, it has made me question what I’m doing here, why I’m doing it. Grubbing around selling worthless timeshare certificates for a living, and all the hassle that comes with it.”

“So what you are saying,” said Andy, the sarcasm returning, “is that our modest venture is no longer worthy of a man of your undoubted expertise. Have I got that right?”

“No, what I’m saying is that whatever talents I do have can be put to better use, that’s all. And maybe I just want to be somebody again. Someone the boys can be proud of.”

Andy steeled himself against all emotion. “Before you get carried away by your come to Jesus moment, let’s remember whose baby this whole show is. What happened to the vision you sold me on? You are the architect of the dream. And now you’re saying that you want out? I’m disappointed, Jay. The one thing I never had you down as was a quitter.”

“Well, maybe I’ve learnt that sometimes you do have to fold. But don’t worry, I’m not quitting. We’re in a hole but we can sell our way out.”

Andy was not ready to recognise anything that might cut Jay some slack. “Maybe. But this hole you mention — and I’m still waiting for someone to let me know how deep it is — when we are out of it, what then?”

“We sell up. Leave it to someone else to run. Like we always planned to, but earlier.” Jay placed every word on the table with delicate precision and Andy felt like bringing his fist down on each and every one.

“And continuing to pump in my money while we’re doing it?” Andy held his eyes in challenge, daring him to pretend it wasn’t true.

“Listen, Andy, I’m looking into the numbers. But right now I sincerely believe the worst is over.” He returned the gaze with equal conviction but a softer, almost pleading, edge.

“And you reckon anyone will take it off our hands?” said Andy, caught between hope and disbelief.

“Sure, someone will. It is a perfect spot, and now it actually looks the part too.”

“You got any evidence of interest to back that up?”

“I have some fresh investors lined up who are interested in taking a stake here. It’s an opportunity for you to sell out your investment. Cash in. Not to get back what we first thought, but more than enough to recoup what you have put in.”

It seemed to Andy this was classic Jay, pulling a rabbit out of his arse. “Who are these investors? Are they part of another jam tomorrow story?”

“Andy, I am currently bound by confidentiality. But these are real people, with real money. Right now they are looking at a draft proposal. If they like what they see, then it’s game on. If that’s the way you want to go, that is, because it would be your decision. So the last thing any of us should be doing right now is spreading doom and gloom. That’s not how you talk up something when you are trying to sell it. ”

“Why haven’t I seen this proposal, if it exists that is, before you started touting it around?”

“Because, Andy, it would have been wrong to do that. I don’t want you to think I am encouraging you to pull out.”

If Jay is bluffing, thought Andy, it is a high-risk strategy, given the knife-edge on which his music deal is sitting. “Ok, let’s say I’m interested in this proposal. But don’t let anyone think I’m a pussycat who can be stalled by promises of some unknown white knight riding in to save us all. At the board meeting I want to know just how deep the shit I’m in is. Is that clear?”

“I want that as much as you do, Andy, trust me on that.”

Andy nodded. “Ok then, I’ll see you at the board meeting.” He stood up and turned to leave.

“You ok for five minutes more?” asked Jay. Andy sat back down in his chair and folded his arms, with a good idea of what was coming.

“I need your help to get to Rick Epstein.”

“No way. Impossible. I’ve never even met him.”

“But you know people that have. I’m happy to meet wherever works for him. Failing that, I will settle for an introductory phone call. This is something I really need, and wouldn’t ask if there was another way.”

Andy could sense an air of desperation. Jay was close to pleading, and Andy couldn’t recall him ever doing that.

“Tell me, Jay, why is this deal so important? And spare me the bullshit about rescuing you from timeshare and putting you back in the mainstream. Because something I’m puzzled about is whenever I read about this deal, your name is never mentioned?”

Jay leant forward, tension lining his face, his voice low and serious. “I had to take a back seat with the banks last year, given the Malaga malarkey. But everything I have is riding on the deal.”

“So who is the guarantor to the banks?”

“Rusty.”

“So you are using Rusty’s money? I thought she was smarter than that.”

“We did a sort of post-nuptial. If the deal goes down she’s fine, and I’m skint.” Jay held up his hands to signal he had done the best he could.

“I suppose that’s what you get for marrying an American lawyer; you’d better not get caught with your trousers down, because she’s got you by the balls,” said Andy, laughing. But he could see Jay was not laughing. He leant forward across the table, his eyes fixed on Jay’s. “If I could do something, why would Epstein take a call about you?”

“Because he’s the decision-maker on the deal. He already knows who BB&T are but he won’t know anything about my little outfit. So all I’m asking for is an opportunity to level the playing field a bit.”

“I don’t know. You’re asking a lot.”

“Just give it a shot, Andy. All I am asking is that you make a telephone call, nothing more. Making the call won’t cost anything,” said Jay, each word an imploration.