Chapter 20: Three’s A Crowd

Tuesday March 22

Traveling to London with Rita James was an experience I’ll never forget. When we landed after the seven-hour-plus flight, and with the six-hour time change, it was about 11:00 a.m. All I wanted to do was go to bed and get about eight hours of sleep.

Rita made me go to the men’s room to wash my face and change my clothes. She reminded me of her lovely daughter who had picked out my wardrobe for me when I lived in LA. Jeans and a t-shirt weren’t cutting it if I was to be seen with her.

I put on a dress shirt and slacks so that I didn’t look like I’d just been working in a hayloft—her words. I grabbed my Japanese sunglasses and slipped on a sports jacket. I checked myself in the mirror, and looking back at me was a Hollywood-douche Brad Pitt wannabe. When Rita saw me, she smiled.

We made it through immigration, baggage claim and customs. My sole luggage was my leather garment bag that I’d carried on. Rita had a garment bag and two huge suitcases. We were only going to be here for the night and then meet with the Star Wars people in the morning. After we cleared customs, Caryn offered to take our luggage ahead to the car. I was thinking how nice it was for Caryn to do that, but later I realized she knew what was coming and didn’t want any part of it.

At the exit from the customs area was where the paparazzi descended upon us. Frank had told us he would put the word out that the two of us were in town. To me, the opening night for Star Academy was nuts. Traveling with Rita James was simply insane. I became worried when they spotted us and began to converge and shout questions as we navigated towards our waiting ride. I was relieved when our security showed up—four dangerous-looking men—and boxed us in between them.

When we finally had some breathing room, Rita slowed our walk to a stroll. I caught on quickly that she was using them to get the word out that we’d arrived. I pushed my sunglasses up on my head and gave them my million-dollar smile. Rita slid her arm under mine. When we walked outside, we stopped and she turned back to the paparazzi.

Frank had given us talking points, and I let the master—or in this case, mistress—do her job. She talked about the new movie coming out this summer, The Secret Circle. I’d been given permission to let the press know I was there to talk further about my possible Star Wars role, and the reason we were here was to meet with the director and producer of the movie.

Then they asked if we were ‘together.’ She laughed and promptly threw her daughter under the bus.

“David dates my daughter. He wouldn’t be interested in an old woman like me.”

“Is that true, David? Is Rita James too old for you?” one of them asked, which caused them all to smirk.

Even I could imagine the headline: ‘David A. Dawson says Rita James is Old!‘ Rita gave me an amused glance.

“I’ve had a crush on her forever. If I hadn’t met her daughter first, I would’ve asked her out,” I said, and as soon as it came out, I knew I’d just made the news.

“So, you’d be up for a threesome with Rita and her daughter?” one of the cheeky bastards asked.

Rita gave them all a look that dared them to ask any more questions like that. I just kept a neutral expression on my face as Rita turned to the car and the driver let us in. Caryn couldn’t hear what they’d said.

“It looked like they pissed you off. What did they say?” she asked.

“They wanted to know if we were going back to the hotel for a threesome,” I said.

“I told them three’s a crowd,” Rita said with a straight face.

Caryn’s mouth gaped, and she just stared at us until she noticed I was about to break out laughing. The look she gave us convinced me she’s been taking lessons from my mom.

Rita had arranged for us to stay at the Corinthia Hotel, located at the corner of Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall Place in London. The brochure said it was a former British government building and now a luxury hotel, located on a triangular site between Trafalgar Square and the Thames Embankment. The building itself was an odd shape. At one end, it looked like a triangle with a round point that faced the river.

When we pulled up, there were six doormen, three to a side, stationed to hold back the paparazzi and a small crowd that had gathered. Our driver got out of the car but waited to open the door. Caryn made a move to get out, but I stopped her.

“Hang on. I think they want us to wait,” I told her.

Out of the front entrance came a man dressed in a smart suit, followed by two bellhops.

“Let David and me get out first and wait until we’re in the building before you get out. You don’t want them to think that you’re with David,” Rita told Caryn.

“What do you mean?” Caryn asked.

I batted my eyes at her.

“Oh. Okay, I’ll wait,” Caryn said, understanding.

When the driver opened the door, I got out first and then helped Rita out. The way she did it took my breath away. All that was missing was a crown on her head. I stepped back and let the paparazzi get their shots of American Hollywood Royalty, Rita James. She waited a moment and then nodded at the man in the suit. He came up and did a little half-bow to her. She motioned me forward.

“David A. Dawson, I would like you to meet Charles Whatley. He is in charge of the Corinthia Hotel.”

I shook his hand.

“I’m so glad you both have decided to stay with us. I’ve taken the liberty to put you in the Royal Penthouse. Only the best for our Miss James,” he gushed.

“You always take such good care of me,” Rita praised him.

Once we were inside, Caryn joined us. We were ushered to the ‘lift,’ as he called it, up to our rooms. He opened the door for us and Rita walked in like she owned the place. Caryn and I gave ourselves away as we gawked at the elegance of the suite.

Mr. Whatley gave us a tour. On the lower level, you entered a double door that put you in a grand foyer. To the right was a spiral staircase that led to the second floor. In the center of the foyer was a chandelier that hung from the ceiling of the second floor and went all the way down almost to the floor of the entry. It looked like an upside-down Christmas tree made out of black crystal.

Off to the left was the butler’s pantry where food would be staged and kept warm for serving. That led to a dining room that would seat ten. Off the pantry was a door to a bedroom, where Caryn would stay. Off the entrance was an office that had built-in TVs on the wall that were tuned to different business channels with the sound off. If you went down a short hall, it opened to the lower living room.

The suite also had an internal lift you could use to get to the second floor. Rita and Mr. Whatley chose that method. Caryn and I walked up the staircase. We found another living area. The master suite had its own spa, complete with a massage table. The walk-in closet was spectacular. If my mom saw it, my dad would be in trouble. There were two large bedrooms off of the main suite area. Each had access to a rooftop terrace with a panoramic view of the River Thames, a working gas fire pit, and a separate dining area.

The view was of historic London, and there was a wonderful view of the London Eye, the giant Ferris wheel across the river. We were also within walking distance of Buckingham Palace. When Mr. Whatley left, Caryn gave me a dirty look.

“Jesus, David. How much is this costing you?”

“Normally it’s upwards of $8,000 a night,” Rita said.

She suddenly got a big smile on her face when she saw I was about to have a stroke.

“They comped me,” she said.

“Still,” Caryn said, looking worried.

“Even if David paid for it, it would have been worth it. Tomorrow the Star Wars people are meeting us here, and we have to put our best foot forward,” Rita explained.

Uncle John had suggested that we get them away from the studio to give us a psychological advantage when we talked. If Rita wanted to impress them, this setting would do that nicely. For me, it was just fun to see how the über-rich lived.

Caryn left to go play tourist. Rita was talking to the staff about tomorrow’s meeting. I put on a jacket and grabbed my iPad so I could take pictures of the view. It was almost eight a.m. back home, so I sent a text to Halle, and she got on video chat with me.

“I see you and my mom are living it up.”

“I never realized what a big deal she is until I watched the Brits fall all over themselves. She’s like a rock star,” I said.

“Wait until they start making up stuff in the tabloids. They’re notorious for the junk they publish.”

“Your mom said I was your boyfriend,” I teased.

“Just great. I thought we’d snuffed out those rumors,” Halle said, referring to when we came back from LA and the American tabloids had linked us.

It had taken a little while for our fellow classmates to believe that we were just friends. I decided to change the subject.

“So, uhm, does your mom need a little help?” I asked.

Halle rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t want to know.”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

“Dork.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I heard mewing.

“Bandit! Where are you, Buddy?” I called.

Halle reached down and held him up so I could see him. He was getting big. The Ragdoll breed could get up to twenty pounds. I liked him because, for a cat, he was pretty laid back. Of course as a kitten, he was a total playboy and could challenge Duke for bounciness when he was wound up.

“He heard your voice. I think you need to come visit him.”

“I think I do too. I’ve missed Mr. Tattletale.”

We talked for a while and caught up. Rita came out when she was done making plans, and I handed her my iPad so she could talk to her daughter. I could feel the trip catching up with me, so I went in to take a quick nap.

“I’m thinking about getting a massage. Do you want one?” Rita asked as she walked into my room.

“Why don’t I just give you one,” I suggested.

“You sure?”

Yes, I was very sure. This was the one skill my brother taught me that paid big dividends. I threw on a fitted t-shirt and a pair of shorts and joined Rita in her spa. If I ever built my dream home, it would have a master suite like this. All that was missing was a large soaking tub/hot tub that would hold more than two people, and a sauna. The shower here could probably hold four people without a problem.

I checked out the different oils and showed them to Rita. She picked out a rosemary-scented oil. I smiled when she dropped her robe and gave me a show of her naked body. Someone was being naughty by not bothering to put a towel over her butt as she lay down on the table. I poured some oil on my hands; it smelled good. I rubbed them together to warm the oil and then began to massage her back.

I hoped this would end in fun, but I felt the tension in her muscles. I began to focus on helping her, as opposed to my desires. I couldn’t help but see that she had the body of someone much younger. It was a lot of work to keep age from doing its thing. Part of it was good genetics. She’d never had to have any work done to keep her from sagging.

When she had visibly relaxed, I slowly upped the erotic factor. She had a butt that would make most teen girls cry, and I made sure it was thoroughly massaged. I then switched to her feet and worked my way back up. I smiled when she parted her legs; I could see her sex had started to swell with arousal. I took a quick break to remove my clothes.

I began to massage her inner thighs and teased her sex. When I finally cupped her, she lifted her butt slightly and pushed back. All pretense of a massage was gone. I walked around to the head of the table and presented her with my member. She didn’t hesitate to take me into her mouth and begin to suck me. I reached down and began to massage her sex with a purpose.

I could smell Rita’s arousal over the rosemary scent. I got harder, if that were even possible. I needed to cum, so I grabbed her head and began to set a little quicker pace. Rita reached up and grasped my buns to control the action.

“I’m close,” I warned.

She just moaned as I began to release my pent-up sexual desire. God, I needed this. Rita had a submissive streak, and I knew she enjoyed my being selfish. Now it was time to take her to the bedroom and make her scream my name. I pulled out of her mouth to a wet sucking sound. She was unbelievably sexy.

“I love that you’re still hard,” she said, as Mr. Happy bobbed in front of her face.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom,” I said.

She ducked her head and hurried to please me. I followed her and enjoyed the sight of her swaying hips. I thought she might have a slight edge over Adrienne with that walk. Adrienne had more to work with, but Rita James had the experience to work it.

I’d thought ahead and had condoms in my shorts. I grabbed three of them and put one on. Normally, I would have returned the favor of oral sex, but Rita was ready. I grabbed her chin and made her look me in the eyes as I slotted my cock and found her entrance. She sucked in her breath as I pushed forward until our pubic bones mashed together. From there it was game on.

It wasn’t a marathon session, but we both came hard a couple of times. Like my massage had relaxed her, Rita drained my tension right out of me. It was exactly what was needed to get my mind off the meeting tomorrow. We both fell asleep in each other’s arms when we finally stopped. It was the best nap of my life.

The price for the comped room was that Rita had to eat in the restaurant and allow guests to meet her. I was glad when she told me that I wasn’t allowed to be seen with her. I should have said I didn’t want to be seen with Caryn. We went to a local place for some curry. Caryn waited until we ordered before she laid into me.

“You’ve put me in a difficult position.”

“Okay, what did I do?” I asked.

I was wise enough not to fall for this gambit.

“What am I supposed to tell your mother?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I suggested. “That should be the standard policy for most matters.”

She gave me a mock-amused look, but then her expression turned serious.

“David, I understand why you’d want that, and I actually will try to keep that in mind unless it’s not in your long-term best interest, or your family’s long-term best interest, if it comes to that. But there’s something we really do need to have a serious talk about, and that’s your spending and you paying attention to your finances.”

She gave me another look, a bit steadier.

“Do you know how much money you’ve been spending?” she asked.

I was glad it wasn’t something else, like my afternoon with Rita. Caryn’s antics made me chuckle.

“It’s not like I don’t have money,” I deflected.

“Just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to waste it, and it also doesn’t mean it will last forever without more coming in, either. For example, what did you spend $50 on at the diner and $75 on at Monical’s? I couldn’t spend that much at either of those places if I tried,” Caryn started.

“I bought my friends food,” I said.

“Then there’s the money you spend when you’re with Brook. The various activities you two do together aren’t cheap. Do you know how much you spent on skydiving alone?” she asked.

“You do know that lecturing a teen is the fastest way to get them to ignore you, right?” I offered.

“Sorry. It’s just that I seriously need to get your attention. I think that you and Brook need to learn to budget,” Caryn said.

“But we both have money.”

I thought if I repeated it enough, she would get it. Apparently not.

“I understand Brook Davis. She’s grown up without ever having to worry about finances. You should know better. Buying friends isn’t the guy I know.”

She was starting to irritate me.

“I’ve never bought friends,” I said with a little heat.

“How much did you spend on hookers in Atlanta?” she asked.

“How the fuck did...” I started, but she held up her hand.

“It doesn’t matter how I know. What matters is I found out. What would people think if they knew?” she asked.

I sat back in my seat and thought about it for a moment.

“David, answer me this ... if you didn’t have money, would you have put them up in a fancy hotel and paid for hookers?” she asked.

She was referring to the weekend we went to Georgia on a recruiting trip. That was not my best moment. It was one of those things that if I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t have done it, but that didn’t mean I wanted to admit that to my business manager.

“I don’t know,” I shot back.

“Yes, you do,” she responded, and then took a deep breath. “Why did you do it? Did you think they would be better friends because of it?”

I didn’t pay Caryn to figure me out. That was what my uncle was for, or so I thought. Then again, if my business manager couldn’t be honest with me, and tell me the truth even if it was uncomfortable, what good was she? My inner teen didn’t like to be called out for actions I knew deep down were wrong. I decided I needed to be honest with her.

“I wanted to expose them to stuff that they might otherwise never get a chance to do,” I said.

“I get it. I didn’t bring this up to be a bitch. I needed to get your attention. Do I have it now?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I hedged.

“I could tell your mom about you and Rita,” she said with a smile on her face.

“Fuck me,” I hissed.

Caryn laughed.

“I don’t really care what or who you do, to be honest. If you decide to blow through all your money, that’s fine with me. I just think you could use a little education and a little more actual knowledge to help you make better decisions. I know you’re better than you’ve been acting, and I know you’re smart enough to realize it,” Caryn said.

I took another look at Caryn. I’d underestimated her powers of observation. Or maybe I was just that transparent. Maybe that was why Tami could read my mind when we were younger.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I want you someday to be able to run your companies and charities without my help. I understand that you have about a million other things you’d rather be doing and that you trust your dad and me to run the businesses. I’d suggest that you spend some time each week reviewing what we do. I would also like to see you start to budget,” she said.

“Can you show me why?” I asked.

Caryn reached into her briefcase, pulled out two manila folders, and laid them on the table between us. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she smiled.

She showed me the top page of the first folder.

“I went back through your personal expenses from the start of school last fall through the end of last month and tried to identify every expense you had, what it was for and who it was for. Then I put them into categories, summed them up for each category, and then put a per-month total for each one. That’s six months’ worth of data.”

Then she pointed to the second stack.

“Next, I put down what seems a reasonable amount for each expense. Not a bare-bones amount, but a reasonable amount. For example, instead of using Ritz-Carlton rates, I used the cost of a Holiday Inn with taxes and fees, and instead of putting down Ritz-Carlton meal prices, I put down a reasonable per diem for a high school boy.

“Now, some items I totaled up without putting another price on them because the prices were reasonable even though the activity might have been a bit out there. For example, the skydiving costs are pretty much the same on each sheet, and it’s likely we can deduct them because the costs helped you get the part in the Bond movie and your attempted commercial with Range Sports. But you still need to see how much you spent.

“Oh, and any costs for hookers for you, and any expense for a party bus are not reasonable on either set of data.” She smiled sweetly at me.

We went through both stacks, and the numbers were eye-popping. Even though the spur-of-the-moment activities I did and paid for didn’t seem like too much at the time, they added up in a hurry! I could see in one sense how I wasn’t being very responsible.

On the other hand, damn it, it was my money and I wanted to have fun with it!

“So, what do you want to do?” I asked.

“I want to sit down with you and Brook when you get back from vacation for a decent session and work out budgets you can live with and have fun with, but that will also help you learn to keep track of what you’re doing and what it means to your bottom line,” she said. “For you, I’ll use these numbers to put together a proposed budget that I think is reasonable, and I’ll also include a decent amount of money for discretionary spending. But the main thing to do is to get a process and discipline in place for you that will help you keep better track of what you’re doing with your money. I’ll get Brook’s numbers from her parents and propose a budget along similar lines for her as well.

“Your proposed budget won’t be a final one. It will be something we can discuss and work on, and it’ll likely change over time. But it’ll give you a guide and a way to track what you’re actually doing, which I think you’ll seriously come to appreciate over time.

“Something else I want to do is to sit down with you each Sunday for an hour to update you on the various business ventures you have going and to check where you are in relation to your finances and your goals.”

Then Caryn looked at me almost pleadingly. I was about to make a smart comment but realized in time that she was dead serious about this.

“David, think of it like this. You have a lot of discipline when it comes to modeling, football, baseball, acting ... yet you still have fun with each activity. Don’t you think you should exercise a little bit of discipline and forethought when it comes to your money and your businesses as well? I’m not talking about taking the fun out of life at all, I’m just talking about having fun and being smart about it at the same time.”

How do you say no to a girl making serious puppy-dog eyes at you, especially when you realize both that it’s important to her, and that she’s right?

“Why include Brook?” I asked.

“Because she’s a bad influence on you. I don’t mean she’s evil. What I mean is that when you’re with her, you just do, regardless of what it costs. We both know you could absolutely afford it for now, but if you don’t learn some financial discipline now, it’ll be ten times harder when you’re older,” she said, and then smiled. “And I talked to Brook’s parents and they agreed that she needs to learn to budget.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to tell her,” I said as my eyes got bigger.

“No. I’m a big girl; I’ll talk to Brook.”

“She’s best friends with Cassidy. I’d be careful,” I warned.

“You’ll protect me,” Caryn said confidently.

She was right. I would.

“Alright. We’ll do this your way,” I conceded.

I thought for a second.

“This is different from what we talked about a few weeks ago about ‘having a plan,’ right?”

“Yes,” she said. “We need to do that too, but I was thinking more about the end of the summer to do that when we might actually have a bit of time.”

I wasn’t sure if I’d have ‘a bit of time’ ever again, the way my life was going.

Then Caryn gave me an evil smile.

“I wasn’t sure about you and Rita,” she admitted.

Frick! She was sneaky, too. It was good that she worked for me.

Wednesday March 23

A six-hour time difference sucked balls. I decided Ari should die for scheduling a 10 a.m. meeting with Phil Nobel (director), Joyce Heart (producer/president of Lucasfilm) and Mark Underwood (casting).

I’d forced myself awake and went downstairs for coffee. We apparently had a butler today. It was something Rita had set up. He made me tea and ordered me breakfast. Both Caryn and Rita looked rough this morning. The time change was playing havoc with all of our sleep patterns. It wasn’t even 4 a.m. at home.

I checked the news while drinking my tea. I’d set up a Google Alert on Brandon Rigby. It was something Frank had taught me. I’d also set one up on me. If there was a story about me, the alert service sent it to me.

It was reported that Brandon had implicated two other guys who were in his club or fraternity or whatever it was. He had also gotten a real attorney when he was extradited back to Massachusetts. It seems Thomas Fox was back to chasing ambulances.

His new attorney talked about the goodwill he was building up by cooperating. I imagined that his next move would be to begin to paint a picture that the other two had been the leaders and poor Brandon was a victim. I just shook my head and wondered when people would ever take personal responsibility. It seemed that everyone thought that someone else was to blame.

I had to chuckle when I realized I was just as guilty, in a way. Caryn was right, what I’d done in Atlanta was wrong. I’d done it out of a desire to be liked, even though I knew my friends liked me regardless of whether or not I spent money on them. We would have had just as much fun after the party at State if I hadn’t bought chicken. Sunglasses money wasn’t a catchall excuse to go out and blow cash.

Personal responsibility sucked.

Right at ten, the Star Wars contingent showed up. The butler brought them into the downstairs living room where Rita held court. We’d planned this little show, and she played the gracious hostess. When everyone had their beverage of choice, we moved to the dining room. It was the only place where all six of us could sit in a conference room-type setting. Rita had instructed that the extra chairs be removed and that the butler offer pastries. I tried what he called a Chorley cake, a round shortcake pastry stuffed with fruit. Mine had raisins.

Rita and Caryn sat on each side of me. Across from me was Joyce Heart, with Phil Nobel and Mark Underwood on either side. I introduced Caryn to everyone and we jumped right in.

“I see you decided to leave Ari at home. That was a good call,” Mark said.

“I’ll bring Ari in when it’s time to negotiate money,” I said.

“You’re not happy with the numbers?” Phil asked.

“To be honest, that’s what I have Ari for. I have no idea how to value a role in a movie of this stature. I rely on experts to do that for me,” I said.

“May I be so impolite as to ask why Rita James is at this meeting?” Mark asked.

I could see he was the designated bulldog at this meeting. I smiled at Joyce, who’d sat quietly during our opening sparring.

“You seem awfully quiet,” I observed, ignoring Mark’s question.

“I’m trying to figure out what you’re up to,” she said.

“Fair enough. I have some concerns about the timing of the role and how it will impact my life,” I admitted.

“I’m afraid that the schedule has been set. Tell me your concerns and let’s see if we can work them out,” Joyce said.

“The way I see it, there are two major issues. The immediate one is that to film the Rogue One cameo, and do the related press junket with the announcement of my role in the Han Solo movie, it would eat up the remainder of my school year,” I said.

“We would get tutors and work with your school to complete your coursework,” Joyce said.

“That’s not the problem. I’m playing baseball and need to practice to prepare me for this summer. I’ve been invited to try out for the U.S. Under-18 team. If I do well, it would give me the opportunity to play college baseball and possibly professional ball.

“My second issue is that the filming schedule for the movie overlaps that of my James Bond movie. I would have to give that up to do this one,” I said.

“Both these issues sound like you just need to decide to do our movie,” Joyce said.

I gave her the most honest look I could.

“That was why I wanted to tell you face-to-face.”

“You’re turning us down,” Joyce said and frowned.

I looked her in the eyes.

“I made it through the process, and you were impressed enough to offer me the role—which I didn’t think I had any realistic chance of, even after the audition. But I can’t take the role, given the schedules that have been set up for you to make the movie work. For one thing, it would require me to break a commitment I’ve already made to do the Bond film, and I really do try to keep the commitments I make to others. For another, it would mean too many of my other dreams and goals would be stillborn.

“I will be eternally grateful to you for offering me a role in such a special film. From what I’ve seen of how you make movies, I want to be a part of it. You have something special here, and I don’t want you to shut me out if you can get past this,” I said.

“I think you’re reading my mind,” Joyce said, and then went quiet.

I did what my uncle had taught me: shut up, because in a negotiation, the first one to talk lost. I’d warned Caryn and Rita I would do this, so they both sat beside me with neutral expressions on their faces. I looked across the table and could see that Mark, the casting director, looked pissed. I could understand that. It had been a long and arduous process for him. Phil had a small smile on his face. I couldn’t read Joyce.