They came back to the patio for drinks when they were done roughhousing on the park grass. Morris got a bowl of water, too. The bowl John brought him this time had Morris’ name on it.
While waiting for their drinks, Rory said, “I think I’ll go see your dad this afternoon. If we’re going to do this, we should leave soon. Nolan’s going to want me back here to join him on his next film if that eventuates, and I have the sneaky feeling it’ll be sooner than he expects. One of the first things he’ll want me to see is the script, and that’s when my phone will ring. I want to spend a lot of the summer driving around seeing the sights. I don’t want us to be rushed. It’ll be relaxing for us both. But to have a lot of time, and with Nolan waiting in the wings, we shouldn’t delay getting started.”
Cary nodded. “Dad has a meeting with someone at Disney. Talking about a show concept. He wanted me there with him. I escaped and turned off my phone. He gets mad if I don’t answer when he calls, but I can’t if it’s off. He calls me all the time. I’ll turn it back on, and the next time he calls, I’ll tell him you want to see him. He’ll think it’s a job for me and come running. Where should I tell him to meet you?”
“Hmmm. I’m going to have to twist his arm, and he’s not going to be happy. The idea that you’ll be going with me into the unknown for an indefinite period of time will be anathema to him. So maybe we should meet somewhere private.”
Rory stopped to think. Cary did, too, and then sat up straighter. “I got it. You remember DeShawn. I’ve hung with him a little. He’s a neat guy. His dad’s got a job in finance for a big company in town. I guess they’ve got money. Anyway, they have a boat and keep it at Marina Del Rey. That’s just below Venice Beach. I’ve been there a couple times. During the week, the place isn’t very active. People take their boats out on the weekends, mainly. They have multiple docks with yachts tied up that you can walk down to get to your boat. The good thing with my dad is, he’s scared of water. Doesn’t swim. You need some leverage with him, and there are no people around . . .”
Rory couldn’t help but smile. “I knew you were more than a pretty face. It sounds perfect. But I’m sure I won‘t be able to get in, nor will your dad, without some sort of pass or key or something.”
“No problem. I’ll call DeShawn. Hold on.” Cary used his phone and spoke to DeShawn, then turned it off again. “All set. They have a manned guardhouse. He’s calling them now and telling him you and Dad will be there this afternoon and to admit both of you. The guard has your names, Mr. Reynolds and Mr. Spencer. Once you’re through the gate, you can go anywhere you want. I’d suggest to the end of one of the docks.” He grinned.
“You know when he’ll be done at Disney?”
“No, but he’ll call me when he is. I’ll tell him to meet you at the marina an hour after that, and then call you and tell you what time to be there.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Okay, I’ll take Morris home and wait for your call.”
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Rory had to take the 110 Freeway through downtown Los Angeles, then back up the Santa Monica Freeway to the Lincoln Boulevard exit in Santa Monica. That took him to the congested cluster of streets around the marina.
The guard at the gate had Rory’s name on the list and opened the gate for him with a smile and a tip of his nautical cap.
He found a bench where he waited for Mr. Reynolds to appear. He’d been just on time; Mr. Reynolds, not to Rory’s surprise, was late. He was showing his importance, but to Rory, it was just more reason to cut him down a peg. He was expecting to have to do that in any case. He’d never get the man’s acceptance to take Cary away for much of the summer by being nice.
Twenty minutes later—a time just marginally acceptable; many would have left after waiting fifteen minutes—Mr. Reynolds sauntered in. He shook hands with Rory and made no excuse for his tardiness. He started to sit down, but Rory, taking charge, said, “Walk with me,” and stepped away from the bench, turning to walk down the promenade, his back now to Mr. Reynolds.
Mr. Reynolds had two choices: hurry to catch up and walk with Rory or simply leave. As the possibility that Rory would be offering to give Cary work was too tempting to pass up, it was really no choice at all. Mr. Reynolds trotted to get next to Rory so they could walk together.
When they were together, Rory started the conversation. “Cary expressed an interest to me in taking a vacation this summer. Stopping all these auditions and interviews and cameo appearances and interviews. He says he wants a break.”
Mr. Reynolds shook his head. “Strike while the iron’s hot, you know? He’s hot at the moment. Can’t let that be wasted. Anyway, why would he tell you that? He should be talking to his agent. Me.”
“I guess he tried that. He said you talk over him, never listen to what he wants. That’s real dumb, Del. You don’t mind me using your first name do you? Thought not. Anyway, back to Cary. You’ll lose him this way in just a couple years when he’s 18. You’d better hope you’ve sucked him dry by then because your fee will be drying up like Death Valley. And it’s your fault by not listening to him. Just going for the bucks isn’t the way to treat that boy.”
“Hey! Wait a sec! You can’t tell me how to treat my son! That’s none of your business.”
Then he had another choice to make, because while he’d stopped walking, Rory hadn’t. He didn’t look over his shoulder, merely said, “Try to keep up, won’t you. You were so late I don’t have much time to say what I called you here for.”
Torn, but curious, Mr. Reynolds hustled along. Rory was at the end of the promenade now with nothing ahead but water. He moved so he was to the side. Mr. Reynolds, to talk with him, had to stand next to the water. Water to his side, water to his back, and Rory in front facing him. Rory could see the man was uncomfortable. He was about to add to that discomfort.
“I’m going to be driving across the country this summer. Cary wants to go with me. There’s no reason he shouldn’t; he’s earned the vacation. I know, I know, that’ll cut into the money you’re making out of his work, but into every life some rain must fall according to Mr. Longfellow. So you’ll get a little wet. You’ll survive.”
“Just who the hell do you think you are? He’s my son. You don’t say what he’ll do. I say. And no way is he wasting the summer driving around with you. Disney is interested in him for a series pilot. Cary’s a hot commodity right now. This is not the time for him to go gallivanting around the country. I’d be shirking my duty as his agent to allow that.”
Rory moved a half step closer to the man; his friendly demeanor seemed to change as he did. His eyes hardened. He’d been soft and congenial before. Now, suddenly, he was intimidating. Something in his posture, the expression on his face—Mr. Reynolds would have had to be blind to miss it. He wasn’t blind. He made a living reading people. Reading Rory right then was easy.
He stepped back the same half step Rory had taken, then realized how close he was to the edge of the pier. He looked into Rory’s eyes; sweat formed on his forehead.
“Don’t fuck with me, Del. If you want to play hardball, we can do that. I’ve got contacts in the industry now. I checked with a couple before summoning you here. Nolan had me doing all sorts of stuff on the movie. I got to know a lot of industry types. Some in accounting when we had a budget problem. I called a guy, asked him to look at something for me. Amazing what you can learn if you know how to find it.
“What he found and passed on to me was the strange fact that the money you should have directed into Cary’s trust is just a little short. Well, not that little. I didn’t have him delve too deeply. Just enough that he said it didn’t look right, and he mentioned a figure. He looked at what Cary was paid for the movie and then contacted some of the magazines he’s done interviews with and found out what they’d paid him. Then he subtracted your fee percentage. The figure he came up with for Cary’s cut is, well, you’d be embarrassed if I actually said it out loud. Just accept that it was way, way short.”
“Expenses! I have to withhold my expenses.” His sweat was heavier now.
Rory grinned, but there was no happiness in it. Nothing in his grin set Mr. Reynolds’ heart at ease.
Rory had been guessing. He hadn’t had anyone check anything. But what Mr. Reynolds was tacitly confessing to was something that had happened to other child stars for decades. And Mr. Reynolds had driven up to the marina in a brand-new Mercedes convertible. Rory had been watching. The man was wearing clothing that hadn’t been purchased at Target or WalMart, either.
“Expenses?” Rory’s voice rang with derision. “And you’ve got receipts and explanations for every one, I’m sure. Every dinner at a top restaurant and who was with you. Every expensive bottle of wine. And when we check with your guests that you actually were entertaining, how many of them will say Cary’s name wasn’t ever mentioned? Most of these expenses will be bogus.
“We can let the forensic accountants look at this. I’ll simply file an amicus brief for Cary. Maybe you’ll be lucky and they’ll stick you in one of those minimum-security prisons. You can work on your tennis game. By the time you get out, Cary’ll be old enough that your time on the teat will be over.”
He stared at Mr. Reynolds who wasn’t meeting his eyes, then said, “Or, Del, you can let him have a vacation. Your choice. But I need an answer here and now. We’ll be leaving, probably tomorrow.”
Rory got Mr. Reynolds’ permission. He held up his phone and recorded it. Then, walking away, he stopped and turned back. Mr. Reynolds was still standing at the end of the pier. Looking smaller than he had. “Oh, and Del? When he gets back, it’s very likely Cary will want to know how you’re planning to pay him back the money you siphoned from him. You might start figuring that out before he asks. He’s a great kid. He’d probably be okay with monthly installments.”
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“Do I need a bathing suit?”
Rory laughed and said, “No need at all. The girls will love seeing you without one. It’ll be the high point of their summer. And of the people who take pictures with their phones. The teen mags will be paying top dollar for those. Some will blur the photos. Some won’t.”
Cary’s mother rolled her eyes. “He’s the only actor I’ve ever known who doesn’t like people looking at him. He’d turn twelve shades of red if anyone saw him nude.”
“Bring the suit. If you have a Speedo, bring that. Might as well give the other kids a thrill.”
Cary rolled his eyes. “As if! And what about dress clothes? We won’t be eating anyplace ritzy, will we? We’re on vacation and won’t be near any cities with fancy places where we’ll need to dress up, will we?”
“Better to bring it and not need it than the other way around. We have room in the car. I’ll probably only have a toothbrush.”
Now Mrs. Reynolds rolled her eyes. The two adults were helping Cary pack for the trip. She had been amazed when Rory had told her that her husband had approved Cary’s going. But she’d been happy for Cary. She didn’t approve of how hard her husband worked their son, but she was browbeaten enough to no longer deny her husband what he wanted. Rory hadn’t told her or Cary the lever he’d use to pry the agreement from Mr. Reynolds. He’d wait for the proper moment to reveal that.
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“How much farther to Barstow?” Rory asked.
Cary had the map and his phone and was juggling them both, with Morris nosing his way in thinking there might be a little more of Cary’s hamburger left. He’d already had about a third of it, but he was always on the alert for more, his hopes always high; he was an optimistic dog. Rory kept upbraiding Cary for feeding him, and Cary always said he’d stop, but both knew he had no intention of doing so.
“Looks like maybe 15 miles. You still want to get off the I-15 there?”
“Yeah, we’ll get on the I-40 in Barstow and take it to US 95. Might not be any more interesting than the I-15 but it’s impossible to be less interesting. It’ll take us just south of the Mojave National Reserve and then we’ll have a straight shot north to Vegas. Or we can get on Highway 11 and drive to the Hoover Dam, which I thought you might like to see.”
“I read something about that. I guess they used a lot of concrete to make it.”
“Almost seven million tons. Enough to pave a road from San Francisco to New York City. They run tours; we can go inside.”
“Will they let Morris in?”
“Probably not.”
“Then let’s skip it.”
Rory laughed.
They were driving a Mercedes SUV. Rory had wanted a larger car for the trip, knowing Morris would need more room, or, actually, that Cary would need some separation from Morris. That dog put out a lot of heat! He wanted less likelihood of a breakdown, too, and while he had faith in his Hyundai around town, a cross-country trip was another matter. Renting what they needed was easy enough. He’d rented a new one from a dealer. Lots of Mercedes dealers in L.A. to choose from.
They’d left later than Rory had wanted, late enough that the first night would be spent in Las Vegas. Cary had never been there, and it was a sight to see.
Before leaving, Rory had touched base with Harper. She was enthusiastic about him going as she knew he had unfinished business in Ripley’s Creek.
“You sure it’s a good idea to take Cary?” she asked. They were having lunch at a coffee shop in Glendale.
“Sure. I’m not expecting any trouble. It’s been a few years since I was there. Probably only a few people I knew there are still around. And even if they are, what’s the harm?”
“It could be dangerous. You know that.”
“Ah, I don’t see it. One chance in a thousand. I’ll play it by ear. He’ll be fine.”
She ate without replying, then finally said, “I brought what you asked me for. You know what you’ll do with it?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I just want it available if needed. Very unlikely, but being prepared is my motto.” He smiled at her.
She didn’t buy his lighthearted attempt at humor. “I hope you know what you’re doing!”
“When haven’t I?”
She frowned at him. “You’re too optimistic.”
He gave her his patented grin. “That’s just who I am. I lived over half my life going the opposite way. This way’s better. Good things happen way more than bad.”
When they left the coffee shop, she handed him the package she’d mentioned. He thanked her, she wished him a fun and happy trip with Cary, then kissed him on the cheek.
“See ya when we return,” he said. “I have no idea when that’ll be.”
“Stay safe.”
“Always.
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They stayed the night in Las Vegas, taking in a comedy show, eating at the buffet—all you can eat—at the Mirage. Cary was allowed to walk through the casino with Rory and they did that just so Cary could get a feel of the place.
“I’m not a gambler,” Rory told him. “Look at these people’s eyes; a lot of them look glassy. A lot don’t look like they’re having fun.”
Cary was looking around. “I don’t see any kids.”
“Nope. You have to be 21 to gamble, and the casinos don’t really want people in here who aren’t gambling. If we’d stop walking and stand and watch a table, someone would be along in less than a minute to move us on.”
“Let’s keep walking then.”
Rory laughed. “Good. Gambling can be addictive, and you don’t need to mess with that. Let’s go up to our room. I’m ready to turn in. Lots of driving tomorrow.”
Their room had two beds. They used them both. Cary was 15 and not as body shy as he’d been at 13, but there was still some tension. Only from him. Rory was perfectly fine. Both showered and put on fresh boxers for bed. Morris slept on the floor. That lasted till Rory was asleep. Then Morris spent the rest of the night on Cary’s bed.