Chapter 27

Boredom prompted my proposal, but reason was its driving force. My real estate paradigm left me free time - too much free time - and my involvement in the renovation of the Vegas office project had ended shortly after our return from Sandy's ill-fated attempt at matchmaking. What's more, I suspected I wasn't alone in my ennui. Nicole didn't have a project in mind beyond the lease-up of the office complex, and Sandy's book tour had ended. My sister had also finished her second novel during the tour.

During some idle time one afternoon, I was glancing through a Forbes magazine and noticed an article about the world's most expensive hotels. The hotels and their locales fascinated me. The Mansion at MGM Grand in Las Vegas topped the list, but what caught my attention was that many of the hotels were situated on private islands. A week later I found two islands, Butterfly Caye, a forty-minute boat ride southeast of Dangriga, Belize, and Koyo Caye, twelve miles east of Placentia, Belize. Butterfly Caye, a six-acre island, was one of the few unspoiled places left in the world. Unspoiled, but not uncivilized. The island came with a three-story main house, a guesthouse on the other side of the island from the main house, and the island came with a staff (a manager/boat captain, maid, and gardeners) and a long list of personal property including two boats. Also, the island wasn't completely isolated from modern technology. The current owner had brought in satellite TV and Internet connectivity. Koyo Caye was undeveloped period, but it was larger - twelve acres. Both islands were protected by barrier reefs.

I raised my shield because I didn't want my attitude or thoughts to project my intent.

"Why the shield, Josh?" Sandy asked that evening as we finished eating dinner. Sandy usually trotted over from her home to Nicole's and mine for dinner, usually slept with us, too. We'd planned accordingly. Anticipating that Sandy would find her man of the world someday, our master suite provided for four occupants, not two. The master suite in Sandy's house was just as accommodating, and about half the time the three of us ended up in her bed.

"I'm bored," I replied.

"Huh?" Nicole said.

"I'm bored. What about y'all?"

"Hmm," Nicole muttered. "Yeah, a little."

"Frankly, I'm enjoying the downtime," Sandy said. "But... yeah, boredom might be just around the corner. Waddaya have in mind?"

I tossed the Forbes magazine on the table. "What would the two of you say if I suggested we spend a few nights in each of the world's ten most expensive hotels?"

"Sounds fun," Nicole said.

"Argh. The book tour cured me of traveling for a while," Sandy said, but she picked up the magazine and flipped through the pages.

"I'm not proposing traveling for the fun of it, although staying in those hotels should be fun. I need a challenge, something new to occupy my idle time and mind."

Sandy handed the magazine to Nicole and gave me a funny look. "You're shield is irritating."

"I'll drop it in a few minutes. Nicole, do you note any pattern to those hotels?"

"Let's see. Two are located in South Africa on game preserves. Two are in Fiji. Hmm. Oh, I see! Six of them are on islands."

"Yup." I tossed the two sale packages on the table. "More specifically private islands, Nicole. Here's the deal. I found two private islands for sale. Both of them are off the coast of Belize and are protected by barrier reefs. I'd like to look into developing a high-end hotel on one of them. Waddaya think?"

Nicole picked up one of the packages, Sandy the other. They skimmed the folders and then traded them.

Sandy looked up and said, "Are you serious about this?"

"Yes and no. I'm serious about exploring the possibilities. I'm also serious about the three of us doing a project together, but money isn't my prime motive. We say we're married, that we're a TRES, and we are, but... I don't know. I think we need something that symbolizes our marriage besides our ceremony overlooking the Grand Canyon."

I paused and looked at each of them. Yup, I had their attention. "In the eyes of the law, we aren't married, and I don't see the law changing anytime in the near term. When I was too young to start a business, Sandy, you and I formed an investment company to overcome the hurdle my age represented. Then Nicole joined us, and she assumed the role of an independent contractor to the company for a few of my deals. Nicole, you led the renovation of the office complex in Vegas."

"You helped a lot, Josh," Nicole said.

"Yes and loved every minute of it. Frankly, I enjoy your real estate paradigm more than mine." I looked at Sandy. "And because Nicole and I were so busy on that project, you led the effort to develop our home base."

Sandy grinned. "And loved every minute of it. Do you really think we need something that symbolizes our marriage?"

"Only in the eyes of the law, and only the economic aspects of our plural marriage, all of which can be handled with a new legal entity like the investment company. We handled the non-economic aspects of our marriage with our vows. I guess what I'm proposing is TRES, Inc., a business for sure, but structured in a manner that says to the world that the three of us are one."

"What a marvelous idea!" Sandy exclaimed.

"Yes," Nicole said softly, tears welling in her eyes.

I lowered my shield and thought, I love you, both of you, very much. TRES, Inc., will not only own the projects the three of us do together, like the island hotel, but will also be the legal entity that protects the economic aspects of our group marriage.

It should be structured... Sandy started to say silently.

I grinned and interrupted her thought. To provide for more members.

"Yup," Sandy said out loud. "Love isn't limited."

"I agree. Also everything we do doesn't need to be and shouldn't be contained in TRES, Inc. We're one, but we're still individuals with separate needs and dreams. Sandy, you'll continue to write your novels and acquire artifacts for your museum. Nicole, I know from your thoughts that you want to continue your education. You..."

"That's correct, but you don't," Nicole said.

"Nope. I'll finish the MBA program at Phoenix College, and that's it."

"Why finish?" Sandy asked. "The class work bores you to tears. You've tried to hide your dirty, little secret, but Nicole and I are in your head ninety percent of the time. You're financially independent. You achieved what you wanted to achieve with your business education. It's time to follow your dream, buddy boy."

I groaned and hung my head. "I don't know how. I suppressed..."

"For me," Sandy said and tears welled in her eyes. "I left you behind, so you suppressed your dream to catch up with me. Well, you did it, Josh. I'm yours. Step back, think, and make a plan that if followed will fulfill your need to be an artist. You can do it. You, my love, can do anything you truly want to do."

"It's too late," I said.

"Nonsense," Nicole said. "Someday, I hope to have a Ph.D. in economics. I want to be called Dr. Nicole Johnson, become a sought-after expert in my field, maybe even write a book or two, and I know you'll support me, help me to achieve my dream. Sandy and I will support you to be all you can be, too, Josh."

"I won't go back to college to study art," I said.

"Then don't. Do what I did. Teach yourself," Sandy said.

"Easy for you to say."

"Hey, I didn't say it would be easy."

"Josh," Nicole said, "Your innate sense of design is phenomenal. When you start talking about balance or color or any design element, even Andy and Liz pay attention. Hmm, you'll need a studio. When you decide what kind of studio you want, we'll build a studio here on the property. In the meantime, how about... ?"

"I won't need a studio until I start to paint. I'll start with drawing, and I'll need some models."

"Nekkid models, he means, Nicole," Sandy said with a wicked grin. "You can count on me, little brother."

"It'll be difficult to sit still when your eyes are roamin' over my nekkid body, Josh, but count on me, too." Nicole shivered. I do love your eyes on me, baby.

Yeah, Sandy thought. I know what you mean, Nicole. His eyes sorta eat you up. His eyes on me give me goose bumps sometimes.

They make my pussy wet, Nicole said silently. Look, Sandy. His pants are startin' ta tent up.

Just before they pounced, I groaned - happily.

After taking a quick tour of the six island hotels listed in Forbes and visiting the island properties off the coast of Belize, we purchased both islands. Butterfly Caye became our home away from home, and we initiated development plans for Koyo Caye. We also formed TRES, Inc., funding the entity with a million dollars, split three ways. When we decided it made more sense to keep the renovated office complex in Vegas than sell it, we also transferred that property into the new entity. With the cash, our home base, the office complex, and the two islands, TRES, Inc., started with a net worth of a little over twenty-two million and its assets exceeded fifty million. Those numbers would more than double when we completed the development of our high-end hotel on Koyo Caye.

My boredom fled. I quit school and started to draw again. In my early teens, I'd often carried a sketchbook, and I quickly reacquired the habit. I conferred with Andy, and he designed an artist's studio for our compound. Six months later when the structure was complete, I started to paint and quickly discovered studio painting wasn't my cup of tea. I preferred the out-of-doors. I also preferred watercolors to oil paint. I liked the freshness of watercolors, the spontaneity, and fortunately watercolor painting fit my new lifestyle. Although Sandy led the development of our island hotel, Nicole and I took supporting roles, and we all traveled back and forth from Scottsdale to Belize, sometimes together, but usually separately so one of us was on hand at Koyo Caye to confer with our general contractor most of the time. While on one island or the other, I managed at least one painting a day, sometimes three or four, seascapes mostly, but some landscapes as well. I must have painted the three-story house on Butterfly Caye a dozen times, and the dock and boats also made interesting subjects for paintings. Over the one-year development period for the hotel, I painted a series of watercolors that depicted the various stages of construction, and after learning how to scuba dive, I started to paint underwater scenes from the coral reefs from memory.

The staff members we inherited when we purchased Butterfly Caye were neither energetic nor ambitious, but they were a happy crew. Unfortunately, the manager/boat captain's happiness came from a bottle. I offered to help him dry out and pay for some therapy, but he gave me the finger and told me to fuck off. The maid left with him. Neither proved difficult to replace, and the housekeeper we hired also doubled as a cook, thank goodness. Sandy and I weren't very handy around the kitchen, and one or both of us were often at Butterfly Caye while Nicole was busy elsewhere. During the hiring interviews, I quickly established a baseline for truthfulness and asked each prospective employee about their attitudes regarding plural marriages and nudity, along with pointed questions whose answers gave me genuine indications about their honesty and integrity.

Out of that experience, Sandy and Nicole dubbed me TRES's official personnel director. When it was time, I packed my paint box and duffel bag - read matched luggage - and started my search for a hotel manager and executive chef, key employees for our new development. I found the executive chef in a classy restaurant in Port of Spain, Trinidad, and the manager in a Marriott in St. Thomas. Besides plugging them into the development team for our Belize TRES Island Resort, they were also charged with filling all other positions for the hotel, with the caveat that I would speak briefly with each prospective employee before they were hired. My built-in lie detector avoided hiring drunks, drug users, crooks, cruel or evil staff members. I didn't bat a thousand but came close.

A few weeks before the grand opening for the Belize resort, I traveled to New York to buy some art for the hotel. Nicole was in Las Vegas concluding a full-floor lease for our office building, which if successful would complete the lease-up effort, and Sandy was busy with last-minute details at the resort in Belize. I carried a portfolio of watercolor paintings, ten of my best. While buying art for the resort, I wanted the opinions of various art gallery owners about the quality of my work. None of them turned cartwheels and offered to sponsor a one-man show, but that was expected. I was still learning. I did get some honest positive feedback.

Art supplies were hard to come by in Belize, so I searched out a large art supply store and was walking the aisles shopping the shelves when I walked past a well-dressed, distinguished man whose thoughts were so evil I backed out of his mind.

What's wrong, Josh, Nicole asked. She'd sensed my discomfort.

An evil man, I replied.

Oh, one of those.

No, not one of those. Worse. He was daydreaming about dismembering a body.

Yuck.

How's the lease progressing?

We're hung up on two points - the liability and subletting clauses.

Sandy joined us and we chatted silently about the lease clauses until I suggested offering the tenant a reciprocal liability clause and adding language to the subletting clause stating that we wouldn't unreasonably withhold our permission for the tenant to sublease the premises.

Great! That ought to do it, Nicole said. Is the bad guy still around?

Yeah, he's at the checkout counter.

Scan him. He might be recalling memories, not daydreaming.

I reached out with a tendril and brushed his surface thoughts. With a shudder, I probed deeper. "Fuck," I breathed.

Memories, huh? Sandy said.

Yeah. That is one sick puppy. Using my sketchbook as a notepad, I jotted down his name and address and what I found out about him during my probe. I'll give the details I uncovered during my probe to the police.

Anonymously, Sandy cautioned.

Definitely.

Liz seemed happy when you talked to her this afternoon, Sandy said.

Yeah, she's a good mother.

Why did you pass on her dinner invitation? Nicole asked.

She wouldn't leave her baby boy, wanted me to come to her house, and I'm attending two gallery openings tonight.

I heard Sandy's mental chuckle. Well, I'll take good care of Andy tonight.

Give him a hug and kiss for me, Nicole quipped.

I paid for the supplies I wanted and left the store. At the corner, I noticed a pay phone, but it was out of order.

My anonymous tips to the police aren't working. Follow up is poor to nonexistent, I said to Sandy and Nicole as I thought about the other tips I'd passed on to various police departments.

I don't like the direction your thinking is taking you, Sandy said. If you're not careful, you'll end up a lab rat.

Maybe not. I've got an idea.

Go for it, Nicole said after she translated my attitude.

Go for what? Sandy asked. She still had trouble with attitudes, so I gave her my idea with a thought.

It's worth a try, Sandy said.

I grabbed a cab and told the driver to take me to the local offices for the FBI. After telling the receptionist I was waiting for someone, I took a seat in the lobby. I scanned five or six agents as they moved in and out of the lobby, finally settling on a middle-aged woman who appealed to me because of her strength of character. To be honest, she was also good looking for her age, which I determined was thirty-six. I left the offices and took a cab to the building where Sandy maintained an apartment.

After making a root beer float, I settled at the kitchen table.

Okay, I said to Nicole and Sandy, I've probed her deeply. I probably know as much about her as her mother, more, because I know about her teenage and college sexual shenanigans, too. I like her.

Why a woman? Sandy asked.

No special reason. She was the best of the lot that wandered by me in the lobby. Any suggestions about how I should contact her? Telephone or e-mail?

Telephone, Sandy said. Use a pay phone.

Does she have an unlisted home number? Nicole asked.

Yes.

Call her at home.

Use a pay phone in the hotel on the corner.