Chapter 4

Mom asked what outside help Dad needed at his company. Oh, you mean a PI and Forensic Accountant? Mom said yes, Forensic Accountant. What do they do differently than an accountant? A forensic accountant is like a PI but with the books. They follow the money and tell you where it went, who authorized it, and hopefully how it was done. Then, when they submit their report, a lawyer or prosecutor can use it as evidence to sue or prosecute the thieves in a court of law. Why?

Mom said the country club property desperately needs repair and updating. Dues and memberships increase every year to reflect the increased costs like taxes. So where is all the money going is the question I have now. I told Mom to get some outside legal help away from the area, tell them what was happening, and let them handle it. And you sit back and act annoyed or mildly upset, causing them to take less and appease you.

What you said to Ben Perkins, the pro shop manager, has already spread to everyone. So, expect to see some painting and minor work going on soon. And tell no one because everyone is in on it or knows about it. We have to be careful too. Desperate people do desperate things to protect themselves. So you start the car first, then I’ll get in so it’s safe, and Mom was still laughing when we got home.

In the kitchen, Mom called Andrew Finkleman at William Morris Endeavor. She told him about me, and Rad, a lifelong friend, referred us to you. Rad said to treat us right or your wife is fair game. Mr. Finkleman laughed and said you must be good friends for him to use my wife. He got our contact information and said give me a few days to set something up, and I’ll call you back and said goodbye. Mom and I ate dinner, played cards for an hour, hugged, and went to bed.

I awoke, exercised, practiced my huku, sensed the area, grabbed my walking staff, and took off running my route, keeping a steady speed and stride. When I reached my turnaround point, I increased my pace on the way home. After stretching, I showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen. I took my vitamins and protein drink, then drove the golf cart to the practice range. I went into the pro shop and said I wanted an 8:30 a.m. tee time on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Tuesday and Thursday, I’ll play it by ear. The clerk looked nervous and said that the time was already booked. I said show me, and Bill, the clerk, took out the scheduling book. I asked if all these people were members, and Bill said no. I said okay, by the rules from now on. Only members can reserve tee times. All others are on a waiting list. Copy this for me and have it ready before I tee off. And have the guy picking his nose out back clean the floors. Mom gave me this area as my project, so don’t disappoint me, Bill.

I grabbed two buckets of balls and warmed up on the practice range. I went inside, and Bill handed me a copy of the schedule book. I asked where the others were, and Bill pulled them out of a file cabinet. I said good job, Bill. Now be sure to collect range fees for nonmembers, and where is Ben Perkins? Bill told me Mr. Perkins doesn’t get in until 10 a.m. I said not good, took the schedule books, and played my round. I finished just after 10 am and peaked in the pro shop. Mr. Perkins was screaming at Bill, so I stepped inside. It got quiet quickly, and I said,” Mr. Perkins, that’s unprofessional conduct.” If I report it, you’ll be fired. So, get your act together right away, and everyone is on notice we follow the club rules. Mr. Perkins, get this pigsty cleaned up by tomorrow, or I’ll hire a crew, and you’ll pay for it and left.

When I got home, I told Mom what I did, and we laughed. Then I pointed to the schedule books and said this is evidence. They are letting nonmembers reserve tee times and, I’m sure, not collecting the course fees. Perkins arrives at 10 am and leaves around 3:30 pm with an hour’s lunch. One kid sits behind the store and does nothing all day. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Bill this place will run smoothly when we return home in two months. I have a feeling Bill is somehow related to a board member and keeping tabs on Mr. Perkin’s pillage. Now, what has my fellow co-conspirator been doing with her time?

Mom said what makes you think I would do anything underhanded and devious like you laughing? I ordered a nice new sign for the entrance, like the one at the high school. Programmable to announce upcoming events and changes. The parking lot will be resurfaced starting tomorrow, and we have an appointment with an attorney. It’s after we meet with David Brooks of Titleist. Then, Mom explained how her father set up the rental agreement with the Country Club.

Daddy didn’t want to be a landlord, so the Country Club board was formed. They would manage the property, and Dad accepted a lower rent. When my parents passed, I was married and living in So. Carolina, everything went haywire without my knowledge. So now the board will call an emergency meeting and tell me I can’t make improvements without their approval. I’ll agree but tell them I can raise the rent to cover the costs. So, find the funds, or I will raise the rent, but improvements will be made. I didn’t plan on Bill feeding them information, but it works out perfectly. They’ll pay for the upgrades to keep the rent low and wait for us to go home. We both laughed and then ate lunch.

Mom said she wanted to get out of the house, so we were going shopping. I told her to start the car and would be right out, and that caused a new round of laughter. We got new phones with local numbers. Mom wanted to keep Dad in the dark, so she signed up for a new plan billed to our new address. And of course, we couldn’t pass doing some clothes shopping. I got some local-looking casual clothes, and Mom had to get some. We were leaving the mall when a male voice called out Barb Jackson, is that you? We stopped, and Mom said Stan, the man and they hugged.

Mom introduced me to Stan Thompson, who worked for the Dodgers baseball team. Stan and Mom arranged for us to get a tour and attend a game the day after tomorrow. Going home, Mom said her dad had season tickets and knew everyone in the organization. When Dad needed something, he would call Stan. So, we began calling him “Stan the Man.” I told Mom she has a popular ass around here. Rad and Stan recognized you walking away from them. I better study it, too, in case I get lost. Mom was laughing hard, and it was a good thing we had stopped for dinner.

I asked what the Dodgers and baseball were, and Mom said it’s a team sport, and the Dodgers are our local team. She promised I would enjoy the experience, and we finished our dinner and went home. Mom said we were meeting David Brooks at the practice range at 8 a.m. tomorrow and coming back here to review the agreement. Then, go to see the lawyer in Beverly Hills. We’ll get lunch before or after, depending on when we arrive. It will be a busy day tomorrow, and we hugged goodnight and went to bed.

I awoke, exercised, practiced my huku, sensed the area, did my yoga routine, showered, dressed, went to the kitchen for breakfast, vitamins, and protein drink, then mom and I drove the golf cart to the practice range. Titleist had set up a tent by the practice range, creating quite a stir, and then we drove up. David escorted us into the tent, and I was measured for clothes and clubs. Then we went to the range, and the videographer was set up to record me practicing. They also had a device to record swing and ball speed. Quite a large crowd had gathered by the time we were done. Bill was in front of the shop recording the event with his phone.

David Brooks rode home with us in our golf cart when we finished. David presented the offer, and we signed it. Titleist would arrange for me to play in 6 to 10 yearly tournaments. All my clothing, clubs, and travel were included with the one million fees they paid me under NIL. In addition, there was a bonus for winning and top 10 finishes. They gave us a credit card to charge travel because, under the rules, they couldn’t arrange it. Then we went outside, and the videographer recorded a clip for a news release announcing the signing.

We cleaned up, changed clothes, and drove to Beverly Hills when David left. The traffic was light, so we ate lunch at a café by the law office. Mom and I walked into Brown, Williams, and Associates 10 minutes early. Todd Brown came out and greeted us, and then we went into a conference room with five other people. Mom explained her rental agreement with the Riveria Country Club. She said no increase in rent had been paid in over ten years, yet dues and property values have increased. Little to no maintenance or improvements have been done. The money is going somewhere, and I want to know it all. Where it went, who was in on it, and get the money back. Then, see them locked up for the theft. And the State and Federal Governments will want their share of taxes back.

In closing, I want Riveria Country Club and the Trust smelling like roses and thieves buried in shit. Todd Brown said that’s all you want, Mrs. Jackson. No problem at all, and everyone laughed. Mom signed forms and wrote a check for the retainer, and then we left. Mom asked me what I thought of Todd Brown, and I said he’s a shark, and he’s getting hungry. Mom and I laughed, then drove home to a note on the door. Mom said, let’s go to the clubhouse, so we drove the golf cart over and parked.

We walked into the offices, then to a corner office, stepped inside, and Mom said Jackoff Jones, what are you doing in my office? Mom yelled for Debbie, and she came running in and said yes, Mrs. Billingsley. Jackoff Jones has taken over my office without my approval. Call maintenance and have them bring trash bags and clean this shit out here. The man behind the desk started grabbing what he could, and Mom said to leave it. I’ll go through it, and your stuff will be in the trash. Now get, or I’ll have the police remove you. Jackoff Jones ran out of the office. Mom told Debbie to call an emergency board meeting the day after tomorrow at 1 p.m. Subjects are the removal of Jackoff Jones from the board, rent increase, and maintenance schedule.

Mom and I threw Jackoff’s shit in a pile on the floor and finished when Maintenance showed up. Mom said Bag this shit up and throw it into the dumpster. On the way home, Mom told me the office was her dad’s, then hers as the property owner. No board members have offices at the club. The board members will have to vote Jackoff Jones off the board or face closing the country club down. Of course, they’ll throw him under the bus to keep things the same. By the way, that was my dad’s name for Jack Jones. I asked Mom what your dad called you, and she laughed and said not telling you. My dad had a way with words, and I had several, and so did Mom.

Let’s get something to eat and watch the news. I have a feeling you’re going to be on tonight. We got Italian and watched the news. Mom was right and recorded it to start her collection. I asked what Dad would say about TJ Jackson signing a NIL deal, and we both laughed and said PISSED together. Mom reminded me we’re going to Dodger Stadium tomorrow morning, so hurry back from the practice range. We hugged goodnight and went to bed. I sweated and tingled all night, and at one point, I changed the sheets and took a shower.

I awoke, exercised, practiced my huku, sensed the area, grabbed my walking staff, and took off running my route, keeping a steady speed and stride. When I reached my turnaround point, I increased my pace on the way home. After stretching, I showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen. I took my vitamins and protein drink, then drove the golf cart to the practice range. I hit two buckets, returned home, showered, dressed, and took off for the Stadium. Mom was right. I was impressed. I had never seen anything like it before. We parked in an area Stan told Mom to park and went to a private entrance. The guard gave Mom a pass to put on the car immediately and lanyards with our passes for inside. Mom put the pass on the SUV and returned then we went to Stan’s office.

Stan said I made him a hero with the top brass having you here today. They saw the news last night and want to meet you, but first, let’s take a tour. We got in a golf cart and went to locker rooms, training rooms, dugout, and the batting cages. Stan showed me how to stand and swing, and then I put on a helmet. I stepped into the batter’s box, and stan sent pitches at 40 mph. When I hit them, he increased the speed until it was maxed out. Shaking his head, Stan made a call and then dove to the field where the team was practicing. We stopped behind home plate, and they had temporary netting for safety, Stan pointed out. I was fitted with a helmet and bat, and Stan went to the pitcher.

They talked for a few minutes and laughed, then Stan returned. He said to step in the batter’s box and try to hit it out of the park, pointing to the fence. I told Stan the pitcher doesn’t look happy now. Stan laughed, said he’ll try to get you out harder now, and pushed me to home plate. The first dozen I missed or got a piece of, then I started hitting the pitches. The pitcher was pissed now, so he threw a fastball, and I connected with it solid. The sound was unique, and the feeling was great to watch the ball fly over the center field fence. After that, the field got quiet, and Stan pulled me away from the batter’s box and to the golf cart, laughing.

Stan talked as he drove and said pitchers get pissed when a home run is hit. Some throw at the next batter to get even, so I got you out there quickly. His teammates are giving him shit right now and laughing about it. We stopped at a new room, and I was measured for a uniform. Mom thought I would look cute in one, and they measured from my head to my feet, and then we went to lunch. After lunch, it was meet the brass time, and they said I pissed off Rusty Sanders something fierce. They videoed my hit and will play for the crowd at the next game. We had an enjoyable conversation and some laughs, then returned to Stan’s office for the sales pitch.

Mom said I’m a sucker for a man in uniform and we laughed, then signed the deal. It was a 250k NIL deal. They would use me on an ad campaign. If it was successful, the price increased for each new ad. Mom and I stayed until the 5^th inning stretch and left for home. We stopped at the in-n-out burger drive-thru, then went home and ate dinner. Mom checked her Carolina phone, and Dad called eight times. The other two were from FootJoy and Callaway.

Mom called Dad and put it on speakerphone. He answered and said it’s about time you called you fu and I pressed end call. I said nobody talks to my mom like that and gets away with it. I’m emailing you a photo from Dad’s collection. Please send it to him and wait for his call. Mom did and laughed when she saw it. Dad called back crying and asked where she got it. Mom said that’s not important now, John. You’ve gone into a zone of no return. Our deal remains, but that is it for us. Get your kink from your whore, and I was going to say get tested, but that might be embarrassing. Be careful, John, because whores work for money doesn’t matter where it comes from. If your little thing comes out and mom laughs, I’ll say that’s why we separated. Good luck, and you rock those panties and bra, John, and hung up laughing. Mom and I laughed and high-fived.

Still laughing, I asked Mom to measure me again because I had a growth spurt. I was 4’10” tall. Any more growth meant new clothes, but I could afford them now, and she said no. We’re going to my trust attorney after the board meeting. You’ll be put on an allowance for your and my taxes. I get to claim you as a dependant, and I’m not giving that up for four years, Bucko laughing. California taxes are high, so the trust will shelter most of what you earn. We hugged good night and went to bed.

I awoke, exercised, practiced my huku, sensed the area, grabbed my walking staff, and took off running my route, keeping a steady speed and stride. When I reached my turnaround point, I increased my pace on the way home. After stretching, I showered, dressed, and went to the kitchen. I took my vitamins and protein drink, then drove the golf cart to the practice range. I got two buckets and went through my warm-up routine, then went to the pro shop and said I’m going to tee off now. I was at five under and happy because I hadn’t played in a while, so I drove home, showered, and ate lunch with Mom.

We walked into a sad-looking group of men for the board meeting. Mom asked Debbie to read the minutes from the last meeting. It took two minutes, and Mom said ok, you haven’t been doing anything for a while, so it’s expected. Now, new business, I propose a deal to the board. Yes or no is required, and Debbie counts the votes. I propose to expel Jackoff Jones from the board. He is grossly incompetent and took over my office without my permission. He also posted a letter from this board on my door and signed it as Chairman of the Board. Now count your nut boys because my son will be nut hunting soon. How many assholes here voted Jackoff chairman of the board? Raise your hands now, please. Debbie, count the votes, please. Good, you get to keep them for the next round.

In case you forgot, I own this land and rent it to the Country Club. So, the next vote will determine the future of the Country Club. A yes vote to fire Jackoff Jones means we continue doing the necessary repairs to bring more paying customers. A no vote means I sell the land to a developer and rid myself of all you assholes. Count the votes, Debbie, please. Please raise your hands if you’re for firing Jackoff Jones from the board. Debbie, the count, please. Debbie said, unanimous. Debbie, please send Jackoff Jones a certified letter telling him he is no longer a board or club member.

Boy, this is going fast today. OK, next is the rent raise proposal. As all of you assholes know, I have not received an increase in rent for over ten fucking years. I come home to a shithole and wonder where all the money is, and I thought you all have a healthy fund for capital improvements. So, a rent increase of 25% matches the dues increase, which sounds fair, so it’s on the table. That’s gross, not net boys. You aren’t screwing me like last time. The bottom line is whether I make money with you or alone is the next vote. All favor a 25% increase in rent, which is paid off the gross income. Raise your hands. Debbie, what’s the count? Debbie said, unanimous. Mom said good.

Next is not a vote because the funds are already here. You all release the funds for the improvements I ordered under the rent agreement. It says if the country club fails to do the needed repairs and improvements, the owner will do them to protect his investment. The country club will pay all costs; that’s you, boys. Don’t think of getting cute on this subject, boys. None of you went to college or took courses in business, but I’ll tell you, we lost a shit load of money, letting the place go downhill. Venues around us are booked years in advance, and we were lucky to get a booking. Range fees have tripled on other courses, and we charge the same or give it away. You have 30 days to fund the account, or I’ll take over and do things that are not nice. Meeting adjourned.

We went to the pro shop and met in Mr. Perkin’s office. Mom said you have 30 days to get your shit together, or you’re fired. All non-members pay range fees, no exception. Only one non-pay, Mr. Perkins, your ass is out understood. Now go out and announce to the employees Mr. Perkins, and he did. By the way, the kid in the back is fired. If I see him again, I’ll call the police. Good day, and we left. I said wow, my kicking ass and taking names. Mom was hot in there, fanning my face. Mom and I laughed.