Chapter 7: Good Intentions

Sunday February 7

Zoe explained to me that we were picking up lunch and eating it at my apartment. Someone wasn’t leaving anything to chance today. I was happy when she let me get our lunch at the diner across from the hospital. I ordered us a box of chicken and, of course, a pie. I let Zoe pick it out, and she did an outstanding job. They had an apple pie with butterscotch sauce. The sauce was in a separate container, and they told us to heat both up and then pour the sauce over the top right before serving. Yum!

After we ate, she joined me on the couch.

“Next Sunday is Valentine’s Day. I have to go to New York for the weekend. Do you want to come with me?” I asked.

It was Presidents’ Day weekend, so we’d be in New York for three days. Adrienne had arranged some jobs for me. She hadn’t told me who they were for or what I’d be doing, but it would be something I’d enjoy. If Adrienne said it would be fun, I was in.

“Let me call my mom and see,” Zoe said.

It was interesting to see the progression of the conversation from Zoe’s end. She started out excited, then things took a turn. She got up and went to the bedroom, and I could tell the discussion got heated.

“Fine!” I heard as a final retort.

I went into the bedroom and found Zoe red-faced and breathing heavily.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

Of course I knew it wasn’t all okay, but I’d learned it is sometimes best to get the conversation started so a girl can vent. She gave me a look, which I didn’t think I deserved.

“I have to go home,” Zoe announced.

She stomped out to the living room and put her coat on. If she was going to be a brat, I was more than happy to drive her home. We got into the Charger and drove off. She didn’t say a word to me the entire way. When we got to her house, she just jumped out and went inside. Well, fuck me for trying to be nice.

I had to turn in the Charger tomorrow, so I decided to go for a drive. I would miss this car. It was every motor-head’s dream. It was heavy enough that it didn’t get all squirrelly when you pushed it into turns. The Charger was quick and powerful. If you wanted something that could outperform it, you’d need to spend twice what you’d pay for the production version of the Charger, or heavily modify something else. The only knock I had on the Charger was its brakes. I’d planned to upgrade them in the spring.

I pushed the pedal down and felt myself being pushed back into my seat as the Charger began to pick up speed. After my driving classes in LA, I was much more comfortable aggressively driving this beast. I had a blast driving through the county park’s ten-mile serpentine road. Hardly anyone ever drove it, so I wasn’t worried I would run into any traffic. The Charger didn’t even twitch when I would throw it into the corners.

When I hit the countryside, I looked for the nearest county road. If I was going to have some fun, I didn’t need a ticket. I loved driving county roads. They were laid out in a grid that ran north/south and east/west in one-mile increments. Unlike LA, where I wasn’t sure any road was truly straight, you didn’t need a GPS to figure out how to get somewhere. Washington was our nearest town, and it was eight miles north and three miles east. All you had to do was drive north and then turn right at the eighth intersection. Three more and you would be at the edge of town.

With no crops in the fields, I could see for what seemed like miles. I let the Charger have its legs and was soon well past a hundred miles per hour. Even though I could see there was no traffic, I made a point to slow down near a farmhouse. Farm dogs were often territorial. I didn’t want to hit one just doing his job.

I went from one end of the county to the other before I decided to go home. I needed to get all my stuff out of the car. In the trunk I had a gun safe and first aid bag. Well, ‘first aid bag’ probably wasn’t the right description. Tami had bought it, and it was more of a paramedic bag. It had anything and everything you would need in an emergency that could be put into one of those things.

When I got home, I cleaned out the Charger. Getting the gun safe out was a chore. I think they wanted to discourage people from stealing them. After I was done, I grabbed the chicken and pie and found Dad watching college basketball. State was playing Iowa, and it didn’t look good for the home team.

“I knew you were my favorite son,” Dad said as I put the food on the coffee table.

“What did Jack suggest we do with my money?” I asked, finally ready to hear what was suggested.

“What did you and Bev talk about?” Dad asked.

“I’ll tell you and Mom about it when I get things figured out.”

Dad just nodded.

“Jack talked to Caryn and me about several things. The first was to set up an emergency fund. He said we needed to have three to six months’ expenses put into savings. Caryn should have that number from the accountant this week. He called this our reserve or rainy-day fund. He suggested we put it into CDs that we can cash out when needed.

“He then advised that we reduce the amount of cash we have in the checking account. He said we only needed enough to operate for the month. He suggested we keep another three months’ expenses in short-term investments. Once new businesses start showing a profit, you can reduce that.

“He liked that you had a house fund and college fund set up, and suggested that we move a single-time payment into those funds from your most recent movie deal,” Dad shared.

“What about money I get from things like this weekend?” I asked.

“He said to put it into your business account, and he’ll talk with Caryn and me and we’ll decide where it needs to go.”

“I’m thinking I want to replace the Charger,” I admitted.

“Actually, you need to get two cars. The other one would be for Peggy to safely drive your son around.”

“I don’t think I want a minivan, but we might need something bigger that can haul a lot of people.”

Dad just smirked at me. I think he was visualizing some famous last words had just been said.

“What else did Jack say?” I asked, to get back on topic.

“Speaking of cars, he said to lease them. Same goes for boats.”

“What about motorcycles?” I asked, and did a little bounce that gave away my excitement.

Dad didn’t take the bait.

“Mass Investments is a full-service wealth management company. He asked Caryn to send him over all of our current insurance policies. From what he was talking about, we may be underinsured, now that you’re a celebrity.”

I gave Dad an impatient look, which made him smile.

“He suggested some funds that were performing well, and he’d put a portion of your money into a couple of them to diversify your risk. He then suggested that you invest in his company. You’d be a silent partner in Mass Construction and be able to take advantage of their Lincoln Park project. If the numbers he’s projecting are even close to accurate, then you’ll do very well,” Dad said.

“What do you think? You saw his home; it’s a model they’re building. The homes are made to look like they’ve been there forever, so they fit in with the neighborhood. How have they done to this point?” I asked.

“Financially, very well. Jack said they need your cash to accelerate some projects and help avoid delaying others. They have a short-term cash-flow problem. Jack will send Caryn contracts people have signed to buy the homes once they’re built to show they have orders in the pipeline.”

“Why didn’t he go to the bank?” I asked.

“He did, but while he waited for their answer, he had to dig into his reserves. On paper he looks cash-poor. You know banks, they only want to loan you money if you don’t need it,” Dad said.

“If he got himself in a bind, why would I invest with him?” I asked.

“Good question. Simple answer is he has a solid record. He opened his books to Caryn, and over the long haul his business has made a lot of money. They had to pull out funds for some other things.”

“What other things?” I asked.

“Bev’s election is the main one. She didn’t expect a challenge, but now finds herself in a real dogfight. She has a real problem with a police shooting from two years ago. A young black man with a checkered past had a knife. You have a police officer that has a history of excessive-force complaints, at least twenty since 2001. During the confrontation, the young black man walked away from police. The officer shot the young man, the young man’s body spun around and was then lying on the ground. The police officer then shot him fourteen more times in a fifteen-second period, unloading every round in his gun, killing the young man.

“During the investigation, which was released in January, the first responder said there was no need to use that level of force. There was a recording where a Taser team was called to deal with the situation. There’ve been bipartisan protests that denounce the young man’s death and demand changes in police and judicial procedure, and demand the dismissal or resignation of city officials. Bev is one of the ones they want thrown out, even though she had nothing to do with it,” Dad explained.

“It sounds like the perfect storm for something bad to happen: an overaggressive police officer and a kid with a knife. I can understand why people are upset and why they would target the people in charge,” I said, and thought for a moment. “Will this blow back on Jack and his business?”

“I’ll have Caryn look into it,” Dad said.

After dinner, I got a call from my grandma.

“I volunteered you for something,” she began.

No one wants to be volunteered and told after the fact. If it had been just about anyone else, I would have had a bad reaction. My grandma had moved into a farmhouse that was currently under construction and was watching my new farm. I think my response reflected that.

“Anything you want,” I said with forced enthusiasm, which she saw through.

“It’s not really that bad. It actually will give you some life experience,” she offered.

That’s about as appealing as being told you’re going out on a blind date and ‘she has a great personality’—code for ugly or thick boned.

“I didn’t say it was bad. What did I agree to do?” I asked.

“Governor Higgins asked me to make some appearances with him for his campaign. While we talked, he mentioned that he, Senator Dixon and Bev Mass would be doing rallies at different campuses this weekend. I suggested that you help them. He got excited and said you’d be perfect for something like that.”

“I should call Brook Davis and see if she’d help out also,” I said.

There was no use fighting it. I’d as much as promised I would help the governor. He had ties to my grandad, and he helped when I had my problem last fall. Our families had been intertwined for many years. My grandad Davey had actually been Kurt’s mentor. It was my turn to step up.

“I think the governor’s staff would welcome any help you can give. I’ll confirm with them and you can get in contact to work out the details.”

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Betty Higgins and I are doing the women’s luncheon circuit.”

I would much rather go to a campus rally than have lunches with women’s groups.

When I got off the phone with my grandma, I called Brook’s dad. I didn’t want to give her a chance to turn me down. I called the house phone.

“Hey, David, what’s up?” Brook answered.

“I need to talk to your dad,” I said.

“Why?”

I would have just handed the phone to my dad. I never understood girls and their need to question everything.

“I need his advice on something,” I said.

“What something?” she asked.

I got the feeling Brook didn’t trust me. I guess I didn’t blame her, since I’d never called and asked to speak to Ian.

I explained what my grandma had roped me into, and Brook agreed that he’d really like to help with something like this. Boy, was he excited. I hit him with the life-experience angle, and I suddenly had an assistant, one Miss Brook Davis. Actually, I put him in charge, and suggested that I would do whatever was needed. I could tell from his excitement that neither Brook nor I would have to do much of anything. He agreed to talk to the governor’s staff and provide suggestions. It was the perfect use of delegation: find a motivated person with a passion and point them in the right direction. I felt pretty good about myself.

Monday February 8

On the way to school, I got a call from Caryn.

“I wanted to let you know that they’ve started construction on the strip mall. I talked to Devin Range, and he didn’t want the car back. I suggested that they donate it to the Booster Club.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said.

“Mrs. Sullivan is sending someone over to pick it up today. Did you get it cleaned out over the weekend?”

“Yes. I’m going to miss that car,” I moaned.

“Get over it. You can get almost any car you want to replace it.”

She was right, but did I really need another car? I already had the Jeep. A guy can only drive one car at a time. I decided I needed to give it some time and see how I felt in a week or so.

“I do need something bigger that my nanny can drive. I want something big enough to haul all the kids, including my brother’s kids, if I have to. I want it nice and I don’t want a minivan.”

“I’ll call Mrs. Sullivan and see what they have. I’ll text you pictures and you can decide if you want to go look at any of them,” she offered.

My mind went off in another direction.

“Hey, I talked to the director of the homeless place last week. He mentioned a GoFundMe website for our class project. Do we have them for our other charities?”

“No. I’ll get Megan working on it. I think that’s a great idea,” she said. “What’s your project?”

“We have three. One is a find-a-friend-for-lunch app. Another is to build tables for the outdoor area next to the lunchroom, and the final one is a project to collect things for the homeless. The director suggested that some people might not want to bring things in, but would donate money; that’s why the GoFundMe site,” I shared.

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t do a long, drawn-out deal. You don’t want to have to worry about setting up collection boxes. I was involved in a similar project when in college, but for toys for kids at Christmastime. It was a huge pain and we ended up losing a lot of toys because the donation locations weren’t secured. I would suggest you make it an event and do it all at once. Set up a big truck and challenge everyone to fill it up. It could make for a nice article for the local paper and help the charity with awareness of the problem,” Caryn suggested.

I knew there was a reason I hired her. I could see that doing a one-time event was better than having to deal with it over a month or longer. I thought it was a worthy cause, but I didn’t want to mess with it more than I had to.

“I almost forgot. My grandma volunteered me to help with Governor Higgins’ campaign. When you talk to Frank next, could you mention I might need some talking points?”

“When is it?” she asked.

“I, uh, don’t know,” I admitted, and heard her laugh at me.

I explained how I’d gotten Ian Davis to figure it out for me. I gave her Ian’s phone number.

“We probably should tell the new lawyer about your plans. He might want to make sure you don’t do anything to damage your status with the NCAA.”

She had a point. Then she shocked me.

“What day do you want the flowers delivered?” she asked.

Valentine’s Day was this Sunday, and I’d seen where a kid gave out a flower to every girl in his school last year. I’d jokingly told Caryn about it. I didn’t realize she took me seriously. I needed to be a little clearer when I was goofing around.

“Did you already order them?” I asked, hoping she hadn’t.

“To get that many roses, I had to pay for them up front. They need to know what day so they can get them shipped in the night before and ready for you.”

“What do you mean, ‘ready for me’?”

“They have to have the cards I ordered tied to each one. Frank also wants to do a press release. Ari got permission from the studio to put your image on the cards.”

“I don’t remember any of this. Did you show me the cards?” I asked.

“Remember when you told me that you only needed to know things if there was a problem? I didn’t think this was a problem,” Caryn said.

I could tell she was enjoying my discomfort. I also knew she was dying to show me the card. I’d played this game with my mom enough times to know that my best revenge was to play like I didn’t care.

“As long as you have it handled.”

“Oookay,” she drawled back at me.

“I’ll probably need to get permission to do this. I have a meeting with my guidance counselor at lunchtime. I’ll ask her to help me figure out which day.”

I’d arrived at school and had been sitting in the parking lot as I talked to Caryn. I about jumped out of my skin when Zoe opened the passenger door and got in the Jeep. From the look of things, she had been waiting for me to finish my call, but it was cold out. She looked almost frozen. She reached over and turned the heat on high.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, and hung up.

I looked at Zoe, and she didn’t want to meet my eyes.

“I think I overreacted yesterday,” she offered.

Hmmm, let me think. She acted like a brat to her mom, and I was caught in the crossfire. I think ‘overreacted’ might describe it.

“So you’re talking to me now?” I asked.

“And I’m horny,” she added.

“Well yes, there is that. Should we try to do something here in the Jeep?” I asked.

“No. I just wanted you to know that I think I’ll suffer more than you will because of my actions.”

“Tracy had a problem like yours once. We used a music rehearsal room to help her out. They’re soundproof,” I suggested.

We heard the bell ring.

“Lunchtime?” she asked.

“I have a meeting, but I’ll try and get it done early and send you a text.”

We hurried into school. It was cold outside.

At lunchtime, we met at Ms. Jaroslav’s office. When everyone was there, I started the meeting.

“Wolf, how goes the picnic tables?” I asked.

“Ms. Jaroslav received permission for us to do it. I talked to the shop teacher and he’s agreed to supervise us,” Wolf said.

“Mr. Palm wanted a member of the faculty to be involved for safety’s sake,” Ms. Jaroslav explained.

“What about materials?” I asked.

“We have two options: we can either get metal frames or make wooden ones. I think the metal ones would make it easier to build them and would last longer,” Jan said.

“She’s right. The frame is the hard part, but I’m confident we can do it. Doing it ourselves would save us almost $100 per table. That adds up, when we plan to build eight tables,” Wolf said.

“That brings us to money. How are we paying for this?” I asked.

“Mr. Palm said the school would donate the materials if we let the shop class participate. He could justify the expenses as a shop class project,” Ms. Jaroslav said.

“But then it would be a whole-school project, not a junior-class project,” Alan said.

“Not if the junior class painted them. Maybe the shop class could put on a base coat and then we could do a mural type of thing on each of them. You’d help with one, wouldn’t you David?” Stacy asked.

I nodded and wondered when I’d have time. I was really into delegation right now. Maybe I could get Halle to do it for me.

“We could get Halle and some of the other people in art to help,” Stacy said, crushing my dreams.

“Do you need anything else right now?” I asked Wolf and Jan.

“Did you want to do the metal frames?” Jan asked.

“I think the shop class needs the experience. If it were just a few of us involved, I would vote for easier,” I said.

“I think David’s right,” Ms. Jaroslav said.

Alan then showed us the app he and Stacy had created. There would be reserved tables in the lunchroom and someone would host each one. Then people who wanted to join could click on a chair and the app would reserve it for them.

“How do we make it fair?” Jan asked.

“What do you mean?” Stacy asked.

“Let’s say, oh, I don’t know ... David ... is a host. We don’t want his friends taking all the slots. The goal is to have everyone meet new people. I could also see that if the tables were the ones near the windows, a group of friends could just host one and everyone join. It would defeat the purpose of what we’re trying to do,” Jan reasoned.

“I guess we could create a database and block you from sitting with the same host each time,” Alan said.

“I’d just have someone else host it each time to get around that,” I said, which caused Alan to scowl.

“You’re right. I would do the same. Let us think about that,” Alan said.

“Did you come up with a low-tech solution for those that don’t have smartphones?” Ms. Jaroslav asked.

Alan rolled his eyes. He’d ignored that request because he thought it was a waste of time.

“We’re working on it,” Stacy offered.

“How about the homeless project?” Ms. Jaroslav asked.

“David and I talked to the director, and he had a good idea: he suggested a GoFundMe website. That way people who don’t have things to donate can just give money,” Brit said.

“I got a suggestion that we do a one-time event instead of collecting over time. We could get a truck and try and fill it up,” I said.

“Why not a bus?” Alan asked.

“We could make banners and cover the sides,” Stacy said.

“I like the bus idea. That way we don’t have to rent a truck,” Wolf said.

“Let me ask Mr. Palm about the bus,” Ms. Jaroslav said. “When did you want to do the donation drive?”

“I’d think it would need to be a school day,” Brit said.

“We should do it around something at school also. Like a baseball game, or dance. Maybe people that donate something could get a ticket for an event,” Jan said.

“Most things are free,” I pointed out.

“For a baseball game we could reserve the best seats for a game for those that donated,” Brit suggested.

She was not going to be deterred. I liked that Brit had found something she was passionate about.

Everyone was happy with what they’d accomplished so far, so we ended the meeting. I stayed to talk to Ms. Jaroslav alone.

“Did you need something?”

“Yes. I plan to give a flower to each girl in school for Valentine’s Day. I was wondering if that would be a problem, and what day would be best.”

“Why would you need permission?” she asked.

“Because there might be press that covers it,” I admitted.

“That rules out Friday. I know several teachers have tests scheduled for that day. Why don’t you plan on Thursday? I know I can get Mr. Palm to sign off on it,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, and left.

I sent a text to Zoe as I headed to the music practice rooms. She looked nervous as we went into the end one.

“This is crazy,” she said. “Did Tracy really let you do her here?”

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s just say that I’ve used this particular room before.”

“I didn’t know you played,” she teased.

“C’mere,” I said, and pulled her into a kiss.

She broke our kiss and pulled back. I saw her bite her bottom lip.

“What if we get caught?” she whined.