“Find her, George,” I spat. “I don’t care what it costs, I don’t care if we have to go knocking door to door across this whole fucking island. Find her for me.”
George knew better than to argue with me when I was in this mood. “We’ll find her, buddy, don’t worry,” he said.
We drove on in silence. Jay Money began to investigate the limo’s minibar. He pulled out a miniature bottle of Smirnoff, which looked even smaller in his big, black hand. He held it between his gold teeth and brought out another small bottle. This time it was a Glenfiddich 15-year-old, which he tossed to me.
“Jay,” I said, catching it, “it’s like one-fifteen in the afternoon.”
“Yeah?” replied the big rapper, opening the small bottle of vodka. “That means it's nine-fifteen in LA, right?” He downed the liquid in one practiced movement.
“Erm… nine-fifteen in the morning,” smiled George.
Jay shrugged before exploring the refrigerator for another. I went to hand the scotch back, but Mick waved to me, indicating he wanted it.
“Are we going back to the hotel?” asked Coco, sounding tired.
George turned to me. “Mia will be there.”
I hadn’t thought that far. We had four deluxe suites reserved at the Ritz-Carlton in Palm Beach, one of which was currently occupied by Mia and, possibly, Valentina. Although there was nothing to stop Valentina stealing George’s suite, so that was probably full too.
“Let’s go get some lunch and figure it out,” I decided.
I had the limo take us to the Hilton Resort and Casino, about a mile down the coast from the Ritz. Traipsing into the restaurant with all our bags made us look like a collection of hobos which, I considered, at the moment was exactly what we were. We took a table that looked out over the pool while George hung back to enquire about accommodation.
He came back wearing a very concerned look on his face. He sat down next to me.
“No room at the inn?” I joked.
“No, we’re all set,” he replied, staring off into the distance. “There were only three suites left so I figured you and I could share.”
“Of course,” I told him. “But why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“A phone call from the board.” George motioned at my martini. I nodded, so he drained the glass and set it back down, breathing heavily. “They said, and I quote: The situation had changed. You were unreachable.” I remembered that I’d turned my cell phone off. “They had to abandon our plans to invest in Clancy’s firm. They’re proceeding with the hostile takeover.”
I sat still for a moment, dumbstruck. George and I had spent months orchestrating the deal so that we could save the workforce of three thousand people from being laid off. The board had wanted to simply break up and sell the firm, making a billion-dollar profit. I’d forced them, as majority shareholder, CEO, and son of the founder, to invest instead. It was a much smaller return, over a longer period of time, but the workforce kept their jobs.
“That fucking…!” I spat. “Fucking Wainwright! I knew he was never going to play along with us.”
“That’s the thing, Seth.” George was still breathing rapidly. “Wainwright stepped down as chairman of the board this morning. Somehow, the new chair is…”
“What the hell, George? Who is it?”
“Mia Wong,” he said at last.
Again, I sat stunned. Mick, Jay, and their girlfriends, across the table, were eating and laughing, with no clue to what George and I were discussing. I barely felt George place his hand on my forearm. He shook me gently and the numbness I was feeling seemed to subside a little. I looked at him, his concerned, earnest face, and giggled. I felt my smile grow wider and I laughed again, louder now. Everyone else at the table smiled at me.
“What is it?” asked Jessica, unable to stop herself laughing along with me, as I began to lose control. I was laughing louder and longer, so the rest of the table couldn’t help but join in. Even George started to chuckle. I shoved my hand behind my old friend’s neck and pulled his pudgy face close, pressing our foreheads together. We laughed harder and harder, until tears were running down my cheeks.
“They’ve been at work in New York, what, five hours? And she’s already effectively taken over my company!” I managed between sobs of hilarity. “How is that even possible?”
“Imagine if you’d actually married her!” cried George and I burst out laughing again, almost falling off my chair.
“Okay,” I breathed, as I finally began to calm down. The maitre d' had begun hovering and looked about ready to complain that we were disturbing other diners, but he shuffled off as our ruckus died away. “I guess this has just become a working holiday for you and I.” George smiled back at me. “I have an idea. You’re pretty much going to hate it,” I continued, “but you’re going to have to work with me on it because my mind’s made up.”
“Okay…” replied George, uneasily.
“I’m going to go make some calls. I’ll fill you in soon as I can. In the meantime, George,” I ordered, “find me Tara.”