Chapter 9: Just Fucking With You

Schweitzer Mountain Ski Resort, Northern Idaho

December 31, 2000

It was a beautiful winter afternoon at Schweitzer. The sun was shining brightly. The town of Sandpoint and the frozen Lake Pend Oreille could be clearly seen far below. The slopes were covered with reasonably fresh snow from a storm that had blown through four days before. The air was cold and crisp, the temperature 31 degrees Fahrenheit. Jake sat with Caydee on one of the tables in the lodge, looking out the window to the bottom of the slopes, watching for the three ladies to come down again. Jake was dressed in jeans, a sweater, and boots. He had a heavy parka, goggles, gloves, and a ski hat seating on the seat next to him. He was drinking a hot buttered rum made with cider. Caydee had on thick heavy pants, snow boots, and a heavy sweater of her own. She too had a green ski hat, goggles, parka, and green mittens sitting next to her. She was drinking hot cider without the buttered rum in it.

The two of them had just returned to the lodge after traipsing in from the snow park adjacent to the hotel. Caydee had played in the snow for hours, had even built a snowman, and prior to that the two of them had ridden the ski lifts up to the top and then back down again multiple times, partly to watch the three girls ski, mostly because it was fun to ride the ski lifts. Laura, Grace, and Chase—their two nieces—had been going up and down the mountain for hours now, riding the lifts up, riding their skis down, having a blast. They would soon be doing their last run, Jake figured, as it was getting time to get cleaned up for dinner.

The Kingsley family was making its annual Christmas break visit to the Best family in Pocatello. They had been in Idaho since the 27^th of December. After spending two days in Pocatello (in a hotel, Jake insisted that they needed their own space because of Caydee and Joey reluctantly agreed) and discovering that none of the Best family knew how to ski despite living in one of the best regions of the country for such a hobby, Jake had invited any and all to fly to Sandpoint with them and enjoy a stay at Schweitzer to learn how to do it. Grace and Chase were both enthusiastic about the plan. None of the other Bests had interest. And Joey had wanted to out and out veto the entire plan due to how much such a thing would cost.

“It won’t cost anything other than the fuel to fly there, the rental car, and the landing and hangar fees,” Jake told him.

“Why not?” Joey wanted to know.

“I have a deal with Stephen Williams, one of the principal owners of Schweitzer,” Jake explained—truthfully even. “He lets us stay for free, gets us full lift passes, equipment rental, meals comped, the whole deal as long as we let his staff take a few pictures of us and use us for advertising for the resort. They’re also allowed to announce when we’re there so the papers all over the region can print stories about it, send photographers to snap pictures, and generate publicity for the resort.”

“Everything is free?” Joey asked, eyes wide. “That’s a pretty hifalutin place, ain’t it?”

“It is pretty hifalutin,” Jake agreed. “And yes, everything is free. All I need to do is call him up, tell him how many rooms I need, how many people will be with me, and he will make it happen.”

“Wow,” Joey whispered. “You know, for such a rich man, you sure get a lot of fancy-ass things for free.”

Jake shrugged. “That would be the good part of the life we choose,” he said. “It helps offset the many bad parts of it.”

And so, Joey, as the patriarch of the family, agreed to let the girls go. Jake made the phone call to Stephen and the arrangements were made. They had landed in Sandpoint on the afternoon of the 29^th and everyone had been set up with everything needed for the stay. Grace and Chase had their own suite to stay in. They were fully equipped with everything they needed to take to the slopes and had been set up with a personal ski instructor to show them the ropes. Both of them proved to be naturals at the sport and took to it quickly. In only two days they had gone from skiing the bunny slopes to the intermediates. Laura stuck with them on whatever slope they tried. All of them had fallen multiple times and were battered and bruised but they were having the time of their lives.

Jake himself watched them with envy. He was still well below his baseline energy level, still taking antibiotics, and not up to the physical exertion of skiing, not to mention the danger involved if he fell onto his injured side. And so, he and Caydee watched them when they could, rode the ski lifts up and down (this was Caydee’s favorite part) and played in the snow until Jake became too winded. They hung out in the lodge and ate snacks and took naps and sat in the hot tub in the enclosed recreation area. It was a good daddy-daughter bonding experience. And Jake promised Caydee that she would be taught to ski as soon as she was big enough to do it.

“Mommy and Grace and Chase!” Caydee suddenly said excitedly, spotting the trio through the window before Jake did. It was not all that hard to do. Laura was wearing a green parka, Chase a pink one, and Grace a yellow one. They had their helmets, goggles, and gloves on and their ski jackets were dusted with powder. They came gliding in in a line, bypassing the turnoff to return to the lifts and heading for the lodge. Jake lost sight of them after they went by the window. About three minutes later they came tromping inside, helmets, gloves, and goggles now off, their hair in disarray, their faces pink.

Laura looked around the lodge and spotted Jake and Caydee. She smiled and waved and then spoke to the girls. The three of them walked over, smiles on their faces.

“How was the skiing?” Jake asked.

“It was the bomb!” Chase said enthusiastically.

“I have bruises on my butt,” Laura said sourly.

“Maybe you were a bad girl,” Jake suggested lightly.

“Very funny, sweetie,” she told him.

“I thought it was,” Jake said.

“Mommy’s a bad girl!” Caydee said, delighted. “Got a spankin’!” Laura gave Jake a dirty look but could not suppress a giggle.

“I twisted my knee,” Grace said, “but I had lots of fun.”

“Yeah,” Chase said. “Too bad that was the last run.” They were checking out and heading back to Pocatello in the morning.

“All good things must come to an end,” Jake told her, not for the first time.

“I suppose,” she said. “Thank you so much for bringing us here, Uncle Jake and Aunt Laura!”

“Yes,” agreed Grace. “This was the best Christmas break ever.”

“You’re very welcome,” Laura told them. “You two deserved a nice Christmas vacation. You’ve both been working so hard in school.”

This was true. They both had motivating factors to doing well. Grace had graduated from high school with honors with the class of 1998. She had the grades to be accepted to the University of Idaho in Moscow but the Best family did not have the money to send her there. She had been resigned to working her way through Pocatello Community College and hopefully saving enough to put herself through the university level on her own, but then Laura and Jake had stepped in. They offered to pay her way through school—the whole shebang, tuition, books, and housing. Joey rejected this offer out of hand when first told about it, claiming it charity and the Best family did not accept charity. Not under any condition. But the females of the family wore him down by explaining what an extraordinary opportunity this was, that it would elevate their future generations out of the blue collar and into the white, out of the lower middle-class and into the upper. Jake himself had an in-depth discussion with Joey at one point and explained that he and Laura would be extremely happy to help out with this, that it would not affect them financially even a little bit, that they had done it before for Elsa’s grandchildren, one of whom was now a doctor, and that he should not look at it as charity, but as a scholarship that Grace had earned. And Joey had finally given in. Grace was now a sophomore at the University of Idaho, a graphic arts major in the School of Fine Arts. She was carrying an A average and had an impressive portfolio of her work. Chase had been given the same offer. She was now a senior in high school and near the top of her class. Two years before, she had been a bit of a slacker, barely holding onto a C average, just enough to put her on track to graduate. Once it was promised to her, however, that Uncle Jake and Aunt Laura would put her through college, her academics miraculously improved. She had her eyeballs on Idaho State University at Pocatello and their School of Engineering.

The five of them went upstairs to their two suites. Everyone shucked off their outside clothes. The two nieces and Laura all took showers. Everyone dressed in their evening wear, which consisted of jeans and sweaters and tennis shoes. They then all met downstairs at the lodge restaurant for dinner. Everyone had worked up an appetite and ate heartily. Jake, Chase, and Grace all had the prime rib and loaded baked potatoes. Laura had the braised chicken breast with vegetables. Caydee had a cheeseburger and fries. All partook in dessert as well.

After Jake signed for the meal (which would be paid for by the resort out of its advertising budget) they went back upstairs and then gathered in Jake and Laura’s suite for a few games of hearts, which the couple had taught to the nieces. It was a cutthroat game. Jake won the first round, Laura the second by successfully shooting the moon early in the match. Grace won the third by the skin of her teeth. As they played, the four of them chatted about nothing important. They talked about school and Jake’s work in the rehearsal studio. Chase thought it was totally rad that Intemperance was back together and putting out a new CD. Jake warned them not to tell anyone about that until Pauline officially announced it. There were already rumors and media speculation about the reunion but so far no actual admission.

“You got it, Uncle Jake,” Chase promised.

“I won’t say a word,” Grace promised as well, even though her classmates had all heard the rumor, knew she was related to Jake Kingsley, and were constantly asking her if it was true.

The nieces stuck around for guitar and sing time—they liked watching Jake and Caydee play and sing—and then gave their cousin Caydee huggies and kissies before returning to their room for the night.

“Remember,” Laura told them, “be ready to leave at nine o’clock. We want to be wheels up by ten.”

“We’ll be ready,” they promised.

Caydee slept on a rollaway bed in the sitting room. Once she was asleep, her parents retired to the bedroom for a nice session of marital fucking. They then went to sleep as both had expended a lot of energy that day.

They took off on time the next morning, climbing into a clear blue sky out over the frozen lake, heading southeast back to Pocatello Airport over snowcapped mountains. It would be an hour and thirty-five minute flight. Grace got to sit in the copilot’s seat for this trip because Chase had ridden there on the flight in. As was usual, Caydee and Laura, who were sitting in the two rear facing seats, were asleep before they even reached cruising altitude. Chase, who was sitting behind her sister, put on a pair of headphones and stared out the side window at the passing scenery.

Grace snapped a few pictures out the cockpit window and a few of the cockpit itself. She asked a lot of questions about the instruments and readouts once the sterile cockpit rule was not in force.

“Are you interested in learning to fly?” Jake asked her.

“Uh ... maybe someday,” she said. “Not now though. I have too many other things going on. I want to do one of my upcoming computer arts projects based on this flight.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, smiling. Grace had just opened the door to what he wanted to talk to her about. “You really like the computer arts, don’t you?”

“I love it,” she said. “I think I found what I want to focus on for my actual career. I mean, I love painting, but making art on the computer, it’s a game changer. Thank you so much for buying me that nice laptop, by the way.”

“It’s part of your scholarship,” Jake told her. “No need to thank me.”

“I’m doing it anyway,” she said.

“You’re welcome then,” Jake told her. “You know, I was very impressed looking at your portfolio.”

“Really?” she said, happy. “That means a lot to me, Uncle Jake. Mom and Dad liked it, but they’re not artists like you and Aunt Laura.”

Jake chuckled. “I can’t even draw a decent bunny rabbit doodle for Caydee,” he told her. “She’s never going to ask me to draw something for her again after playing the doodle-game with you.” Caydee had become enamored with Grace’s ability to use a number 2 pencil to sketch out a near-perfect representation of anything Caydee asked her to draw in a few minutes. They would play for an hour at a time, with Grace sketching doggies and kitties and horseys and toilets and guitars and harmikas and Caydee watching in awe as they came to life on the pieces of printer paper.

“You’re still an artist,” Grace insisted, “just a different kind of artist. You make music and I make pictures. I can appreciate your music and you can appreciate what I make.”

“That is true,” Jake agreed, “and that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Like I said, I was impressed by your portfolio, particularly the computer graphics. Our project of putting Intemperance back together is starting to look like it’s going to succeed. At the rate we’re going, we hope to be able to move over to the actual recording studio by early March. Once we’re there, we’re talking another four months or so to record, mix, and master the CD.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, not having the slightest inkling of why he was telling her this.

“Vinyl records are starting to make a bit of a comeback,” Jake told her.

“They are?” she asked. “Why?”

“Mostly nostalgia and people who are into retro things,” he said. “There is also a large group of audiophiles out there who sincerely believe that vinyl sounds better than CD. They’re wrong of course. It is scientifically impossible for analog sound reproduction with its constant state of entropy to sound better than digital, but that’s not the point. The point is that there is a pretty good market for vinyl these days and we plan to release a limited number of vinyl albums when we release Never Say Never. We’re thinking a hundred thousand. We’ll sell them for a stupidly inflated price—probably twenty bucks an album—and when they’re gone they’re gone. They’ll quickly sell out and become collector’s items.”

“That sounds very interesting and lucrative,” Grace said, “but what does it have to do with me?”

“A vinyl album needs cover art,” Jake said. “Something impressive, eye catching, something that tells a story. I would like you to do the art for that cover in computer graphics.”

She was clearly taken aback by this. “Me? Do album cover art?”

“We’ll give you an idea of what we’re looking for and let you run with it,” Jake said.

“I’ve never done anything like that before,” she said. “I’m just a student.”

“A very talented student,” he said. “I’ve seen your work. I’m confident that you have what it takes for the project. And KVA will pay you for your work, naturally. Say a fixed fee of a couple thousand dollars for the finished project, payable upon completion and acceptance, and a small percentage of each vinyl sale, say ... oh ... two percent. Does that sound fair?”

“That sounds amazing,” she said, “but ... but ... I’m not sure I’m worthy of this. Don’t you have access to professional graphic arts companies?”

“I do,” he said, “but I don’t want them. I want you. And having your name on the Intemperance reunion album cover art would look pretty good on the old resume, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it would,” she said. “But ... when would I do this? Over the summer break?”

“That would be a good time to work on the final product,” Jake said. “That way it won’t compete with the time you need for schoolwork. How about this? Over spring break, we fly you to Oceano and you stay with us. We’ll go over what we’re after and you can show us some preliminary ideas. Chase can come too if she wants. And then, once summer break starts, you can go to work on it. You will have a deadline, however. It has to be done by the time we get the master ready.”

“Wow,” she whispered, trying to absorb all if this.

“I have faith in you, Grace,” Jake told her. “You can do this.”

“All right,” she said at last. “I’ll do it.”

Jake smiled. “Thank you,” he told her. “You made me very happy.”

“You made me very scared,” she replied.

“Facing your fears is a big part of life,” he said. “You got this, hon. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“Me either,” she said nervously.

On January 16^th, 2001, four days before George W. Bush would be inaugurated as the next President of the United States, Jake, Laura, and the Nerdlys flew in Jake’s plane from San Luis Obispo to Whiteman. They left their children behind in the care of their nannies. It was time for the fourth quarter report on KVA’s finances. The meeting was to be held at Celia’s Malibu house this time, scheduled to begin at 3:00 PM, with the traditional dinner at 5:00. Jake was responsible for making said dinner, as Celia did not know how to cook and had not hired any domestic servants as of yet.

The four of them climbed into Jake’s Ford F-150, stopped at a nearby grocery store for supplies to make spaghetti and garlic bread (Elsa had sent Jake with a half a gallon of her spaghetti sauce) and made the one hour drive to Malibu, arriving at 2:50 PM. They still had a garage remote for her house so they used it to park next to her new Mercedes. Jake and Laura both could not help but notice that there was a Volvo parked on the other side of Celia’s vehicle.

“Jill’s rental car, maybe?” Laura asked hopefully.

“Somehow, I don’t think so,” Jake said.

He was right. When they entered the house, Ron Grover, the pilot Celia was dating, was with Celia when she met them at the door. They hid their disappointment well. All four of them hugged Celia (she did not kiss Jake or Laura, however) and shook hands with Ron. The greetings seemed sincere enough.

Jake went to work on putting the sauce into a large saucepan for slow simmering. While he was doing that, Pauline arrived, followed by an enormously pregnant Jill.

“You look like you’re about to pop, my twin,” Jake told her after giving her a hug and patting her belly.

“Eight more weeks,” she said wearily. “It’s starting to feel real now.”

“Are other women who have already given birth telling you all of their horror stories?” Laura asked. “They used to love to do that to me.”

Jill shook her head. “I don’t hang out with other women very much,” Jill said. “Just Mom and the four of you mostly.”

“Shall we regale her with a few?” Pauline asked with an evil smile.

“That wouldn’t be nice,” Laura said, “but both Paulie and I did have to involve an airplane in our birthing plans.”

“Madre de Dios,” Celia said, “I was along for both of those flights. The ground traffic was the worst part of Paulie’s ordeal. Just after the earthquake, trying to get to the airport with the 110 out of commission.”

“And I had to pee in a diaper,” Pauline said sourly, shuddering at the experience.

“I got to pee in a toilet for my labor and delivery flight,” Laura said. “It cost us four point seven-five million dollars, but I had a place to plant my naked butt when I needed it.”

“Your actual flight was much more exciting, Teach,” Celia said. “Trying to outrace the contractions and get home from Oregon ... and the turbulence. My God, the turbulence.” She shuddered a little, remembering being bounced around like a ping pong ball in the lottery spinner.

“That was a pretty bumpy flight,” Jake recalled. “Not that I couldn’t handle it or anything.”

“I haven’t heard these stories yet,” Ron said.

“Kingsleys apparently can’t do things the normal way,” Laura said.

“Normal is boring,” Jake said, putting the lid on the pot now that he had the gas flame adjusted to where he wanted it.

They went into the entertainment room and Pauline told him the story of her late pregnancy flight and then Laura told him the story of hers.

“And after all that,” Laura concluded, “we get to the hospital only to be sent home because I was still too early for admission to the birthing suite.” She shook her head. “Talk about anticlimactic.”

“I don’t believe I will have any issues of that kind when my time comes,” Jill said. “We live in Heritage now, only four and a half miles from Kaiser South Heritage, which has a fully equipped neonatal ICU if we should need it. And I do not plan to leave town at any point after I return from this last business trip.”

“Very sensible of you, my twin,” Jake told her.

“Someone has to be sensible around here,” she returned.

“How is Jae doing in his new job?” Laura asked. Jill’s husband, a structural engineer who specialized in casino construction, had been picked to head the Heritage branch of his company’s operations. Indian gambling casinos were the latest, greatest thing in California and were springing up everywhere. Heritage was a perfect central location for northern California operations. Jae, wanting to keep his new wife happy by living in the same city as her, had been the primary mover on his firm’s entry into the Indian casino market (as well as the city it would be based in) and they were very grateful now that he had pushed for it.

“He likes the new challenges,” Jill said. “They’re opening up three new casinos in the region over the next two years and have plans for two more. The one outside of Heritage just broke ground a few weeks ago. It keeps him busy, that’s for sure.”

“Does he actually have to deal with the Indians?” Celia asked.

“He’s never met a single one of them,” she replied. “The tribe’s purpose is only to provide legal grounds for a casino in California, where such gambling is illegal. The various business interests that own and run gambling casinos in the US are who are financing the whole thing. It is they who are paying Jae’s firm and who do all the negotiating with the state. When the casino opens, they get their cut and the tribe gets their cut for providing the land and the legal basis for operation. They have nothing whatsoever to do with designing, building, financing, or running the casinos. Their tribal council just rubber-stamps all the plans and permissions and all that and waits for the money to come rolling in.”

“That is very interesting,” Jake said. “It literally is money for nothing.” He thought about this for a second. “Good for them,” he concluded. “They deserve it after all the shit we whities put them through over the years.”

“That’s the general idea,” Jill said with a nod. “They’re likely going to cause a significant downturn in the Nevada casinos in Reno and South Lake Tahoe, however.”

“You think so?” Jake asked.

“They’re already seeing it to some degree,” Jill said. “Jae saw the writing on the wall a few years ago. Las Vegas should be safe because it’s such an iconic destination, but the border town casinos in Reno and Tahoe rely heavily on California customers who drive or bus in to gamble. Now that there are the same casinos just outside the valley cities, there is no real reason to drive that far. The only thing the Nevada casinos still have going for them is they can give away free drinks to encourage business. Part of the compact with California that allows Indian casinos stipulates that alcohol may not be given away free or even underpriced. Some of the casinos—the one outside of Jackson for instance—don’t even serve alcohol at all.”

“I’ll have to check one of these places out at some point,” Jake said. “I don’t mind paying for my drinks. At least it won’t be smoky, right? You can’t smoke inside any place of business in California.”

“Wrong,” Jill said. “The casinos are on what is considered sovereign land. California smoking laws don’t apply. They will be just as smoky as a Nevada casino.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Laura said. “If they can allow smoking because it’s sovereign land, why can’t they give away drinks? Or even serve drinks to minors or past last call if that’s what they want?”

“Because in the pact between the tribes and the states, California insisted on the alcohol rules and the tribes agreed. Without the pact they would not have been able to operate any casinos at all. No such agreement was made regarding smoking, however. The tribes are also not bound by minimum wage, overtime rules, or worker’s compensation requirements. They all have followed the rules so far, but they’re not required to.”

“This whole things sounds very complicated,” Sharon said.

“It is,” Jill agreed. “It’s very mired in business, politics, and even some corruption, but Jae makes a good amount of money by wading into it.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s happy,” Celia said. “And I’m glad the two of you are able to live together in the same place.”

“Me too,” Jill said with a smile.

“Okay then,” Celia said. “Now that all interested parties are here, do we want to get the meeting started?”

“Let’s do it,” Jake said.

“Anybody want a drink first?” Celia asked. “The bar is open.” There had been a time when they did not drink any alcohol during KVA meetings. Those days were long gone now.

The group filtered through the bar, getting their drinks of choice. Celia opened a bottle of 1997 Inglenook Merlot and she, Laura, and Sharon all poured a glass. Nerdly made himself a nice appletini. Pauline went with a beer. Ron poured a glass of iced green tea. Jake put some ice cubes in a glass and made a rum and coke.

Ron eyed Jake’s drink as he constructed it, his eyebrows going up. “Uh ... are you flying home after the meeting, Jake?” he asked carefully.

Jake looked down at his drink for a moment and then back up at Ron. “Not until I get at least four more of these in me,” he said with a perfectly straight face.

Ron’s eyes widened almost comically. Jake chuckled. “Just fucking with you,” he said. “We’re staying tonight in Granada Hills. Me and Nerdly and Pauline have a meeting with the suits at National Records tomorrow afternoon.”

Ron chuckled a little, though it was an uncomfortable chuckle. “You got me there,” he said.

“You gotta laugh at life, Ron,” Jake advised him.

“Any idea what the meeting is about?” Celia asked. She had been told about it, including the fact that she had not been specifically invited (though she could show up with them if she wanted to and they wouldn’t say shit about it).

“I’m guessing they want to get confirmation on the rumors and reports they have heard about the Intemperance reunion and want to try to get their claws into us as soon as they can.”

“That sounds about right,” said Pauline.

“Are you going to agree to anything with them?” Celia asked.

“No way in hell,” Jake said. “We haven’t even decided if we’re going to admit to the rumor or not. We’ll play it by ear when we get in there.”

“Be sure to let me know how it goes,” Celia said.

“Fuckin’ A,” Jake said.

They all started making their way into the formal dining room with its large mahogany twelve-seat table. Ron hesitated at the entryway. “Should I stay out here?” he asked.

Jake thought about it for a second and then shook his head. “You can hang out if you want,” he told him. “It’s not like we’re talking nuclear secrets or anything. Just some boring-ass financials mostly.”

“Financials are never boring,” Jill said sternly.

“Neither are accountants,” Jake said with a little smile.

Jill gave him a dirty look and then set her briefcase down at the head of the table and opened it.

“Come on in, Ron,” Celia told him. “You can sit next to me.”

He sat down next to her and then watched as Jill handed out stacks of neatly stapled sheets that had graphs and numbers on them. The graphs were in color. She passed the stack around and everyone except himself took one. Pauline, Sharon, and Nerdly all began reading theirs, flipping through from place to place and taking in the data. Jake, Laura, and Celia did not even touch theirs.

Ron felt somewhat intimidated and nervous about being in the midst of this group. He was still trying accept that he was really in a romantic relationship with Celia Valdez—the Celia Valdez—and that he got to have sex with her on a regular basis, got to stay over in her Malibu mansion whenever he wanted (and he wanted to pretty much every night he did not have to fly the next day), got to talk to her like she was a normal human being, got to see her naked (and she had the best breasts he had ever seen or even imagined). And now he was sitting in on a KVA Records quarterly meeting, listening to them toss figures around, incredibly large figures. Twenty-three million had been one such figure. That had been the quarterly revenue if he understood correctly. Twenty-three million for one quarter! Just for selling CDs and concert tickets! That was insane! No one made that much money! No one that he got to sit around a table with anyway.