Chapter 1: The Prodigal Son Returns

I was the only son, the only child, at least I think so; at least that’s what the lawyers told me. From Atlanta to Miami was a tossup whether to fly or drive for his funeral. The ice on the roads gave flying the edge. We down South don’t do well driving on ice. Getting to Hartsfield–Jackson Airport nearly four hours early when you have the first flight out is a neat trick. Makes you want to reconsider the drive. No it is not near Jackson MS, it’s named for former mayors, as if anyone cares about a politician and it’s just South of Atlanta. Not as bad a drive as getting to LAX or Dulles but try driving near Atlanta these days, bad, bad, bad.

I was told a driver would meet me in Miami then take me to the funeral, the lawyers, the main office and home, Dad’s home and I guess now my home for a bit. S. Banyan of maybe Prescott, Mac Mahon and Tate would need me for a week or two so I should plan of meeting several key executives and two or three trips. Calls to Canada and Argentina should suffice for now he said but to make certain I had a valid passport. The companies would process the Visas and Letters required to validate a business relationship and domicile. I almost told him I already had a credit card but thought better of it. Both firms spoke some English and he confirmed I spoke some French and Spanish.

Dad and I were not close unless being in the Western Hemisphere at the same time counted. Mom and Dad split early on. Somehow he seemed to know a bit about me. I was twenty-one, a college dropout and not really the ‘numero uno’ applicant for most starter jobs. There was a reason for that, at least I thought there was; but hold that thought.

S. Banyan (Call me Sil) did not need to hold a sign for me or anyone to notice her. Grey silk shirt, short skirt, high heel pumps and long silver hair made her tall, slender frame the center of attention of any man within 200 feet, some women too. Her coming up to me saying “Walk this way” not only made me raise my eyebrows but brought to mind the classic male responses. Man was not built to walk the way she did.

Her, “Baggage?” brought a “Huh!” from me as I was still watching her sway in front of me. I thought I heard a light chuckle followed by ‘good’ from up ahead. The cop standing by the still running Mercedes convertible got a hand wave from Sil and a “Thanks for watching” and I don’t think he was only watching the car.

I threw my carry on in the back and almost managed to close the door before she did a NASCAR pit exit. I thought anti-lock was supposed to stop tires peeling rubber off. Not certain how it was in Miami but in Atlanta you’re used to stopping at red lights. The wind had an effect on that blouse of hers and that blouse of hers had an effect on me. Not sure but I think she was a few years older than me, but I was not stupid enough to ask her age, no sir re.

“I’m your Dad’s Personal Assistant. Did they tell you what ‘our sched-dule’ was today?” It wasn’t just a slight UK accent this was said with. Later Sil said some of St. Leonard’s in St Andrews and her Oxford education must have rubbed off on her. Never heard a complaint from me.

“At least until ‘we got home’ they left the remainder of the night open. What are we having for this evening?”

Never missing a beat or a dratted red light, she said. “Crab claws at Joe’s or steak at Ruth Chris unless ‘we’ decide to stay in.”

I wisely just nodded still looking at her windblown chest.

I happily followed her around all day. Last stop on the schedule was home. I guess she was his ‘Personal Assistant’. But of course the car’s remote garage thing worked, her fingerprint opened the lift up and the key code she entered got ‘us’ inside the Penthouse.

“Well, have you decided?”

“In a way? I should have ... I don’t know ... spent more time here earlier, a lot earlier. Do ‘we’ have separate rooms or...”

“The reading of the will is in the morning, ‘we’ can decide after that. I may be too boring for you if you take after your father.”

“How much trouble am I in?” I only meant with her but ... Without missing a beat, she said: “Some, about half I’d say. The ‘Legit’ stuff is pretty straight forward, 51% or more handles things. The rest, Ugh, there’s always problems with those.”

“What gives ‘us’ the best return with the least risk?”

“The Casinos, high-end girls and maybe the hotels. The rest is ‘difficult to keep’. Montreal and Buenos Aires are just in the early stages and unless you are tougher than your Dad they may not be worth the effort. I won’t be seen as anyone to deal with there; it’s mostly a ‘men’s club’. Here at least I can broker your interests for you.”

“What do YOU want to do?”

“The Crab claws I think. Then let’s sleep on it. ‘We’ have a busy day tomorrow.”

I pretty much knew what Dear Old Dad did for a living. I had married into it myself, That did not last a long time but Vegas and Paradise Island still said hello to me and I didn’t need a ‘clicker’ to check for bombs anymore. I lucked out with Sil, not only was she beautiful, fun to be with, not boring but knew an awful lot about the business. The French had a saying about a woman, Sil must have been who they had in mind when that phrase was coined.

Taking her into my arms and kissing her seemed to be the right thing to do. “Sil. I have a confession to make, my first wife said I snored. I hope that won’t keep you up at night because I always need to have you close-by my side.” That got me a hit on the arm and followed by “Oh You!”

“I know enough to know that there is a lot I don’t know. Any chance ‘we’ might make a more permanent arrangement. I won’t smother you, at least not too much. I know we have not known each other a long time but I think I fell in-love with you after that pit exit at the airport. Oh, and the Crab place, man, great. I could live like that till I die. So, what do you say, here or Vegas and after the will we can get a ring you like.”

Not stupid, I’d never ask her age, it did not matter. She was a 20 on a scale of 1 to 10.

The claws were great, bed was even better. She said I snored the next morning. We ate breakfast on the way to the lawyer. Yesterday they pretty much told me details of ‘How much!’, What stocks were included and which were majority owned assets. I hoped she liked the ring or maybe Dad left me a diamond mine.

You may think that it was foolish, Hell, didn’t you ever hear the story of the worm that caught the fish in the morning. No way was I waiting till then, move when the sauce is hot I always said. She was unique, a sight to behold and if I searched 1,000 years I would find no better. Maybe close but not better. She had something else, the silver hair, man I was a sucker for silver hair. Right, she also had the trust and respect of my Dad, no mean feat there. She knew too much to not have been trusted. Did that mean that she was was the right choice to wed. Hell yes!

Not sure what she said, it must have been hot for her, water was dripping down her face as she pulled out to the lift to get dinner. She drove, like (ABOOH) A bat out of Hell! She still had the same outfit on and I was again staring at her chest straining against the silk blouse.