thinking about it.
“I’d like to tell you. But some of it involves you. And some of it involves James. That’s a mixture that never seems to go well together. And some of it involves me.”
“Well at least tease me. Give me a hint.” She had picked up her spoon and was softly tapping it on her napkin. Irritating.
“James gives me some vision. Some dreams.”
She shook her head, her streaked blond hair shimmering in the light. “Dreams? James?”
“
You
give me some dreams.”
“We’ll table that for now.”
“Cashdollar gives me some dreams. He says that if you give generously, you will be rewarded.”
“And you believe that?”
“I’d like to.” I hesitated. She wasn’t buying this. “Jamesthinks the Cashdollar machine can teach us some things, about how a business organization should run. I can’t argue that this guy is a huge success. He’s got more money than —”
“God?”
“It would seem.”
“Oh, please.”
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
“Okay. And,” her annoying spoon tapping sped up, “where does all this trouble fit in?”
“Getting to the next level — with James, with you, with Cashdollar’s philosophy — doesn’t just happen. I think it’s a struggle to get there.”
“What? And you’re telling me that the truck, the tires, a threatening letter, the girl getting murdered, a vendor having an accident, and the senator getting shot are all things that
you
have to overcome? These are your problems so you can get to the next level?” She whipped the sunglasses off her face and her eyes were wide and bright. “Skip, have you completely lost your mind?”
I buried my head in my hands. It had all made sense last night, or early this morning. In a twisted sort of way I’d figured it out. And now, when I needed this concept to save a relationship, to get to the next level, it had escaped me. It sounded stupid.
“Can you forget it? James and I have some trouble. I’ll get through it.”
I looked across the street, toward the beach. A big limo was moving slowly in the heavy traffic, and I thought about Cashdollar and his trappings. The staff, the gold Bible, the limo with the tinted windows. Then there was a break in the traffic and I caught a glimpse of a man, standing in the grassy area. He immediately turned and ducked behind a passing car. When the line of vehicles finally passed, he was gone.
“I’m sorry, Skip. We’ve just seen each other after threemonths, and I have no right to come down on you like this.” There were tears in her eyes. “I want to start over. I’m not going to argue with you, okay?”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is all just smoke.”
“No. You’ve got to figure out what your dream is. I’m all right with that. And,” she wiped at her eyes with her hand, “I’m glad I give you dreams. Really.”
I looked into her eyes as she wiped them with her hand. Then I scanned the grass on the other side of Ocean Boulevard. He’d disappeared. The man had gone over the dunes, run to the beach, walked across the street, maybe even jumped into a car. But there was no doubt about it. The short stature, the thinning hair, it was the donut man, Bruce Crayer. And he’d been staring right at us.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
By the time we left it was eleven a.m. I knew that James was planning on serving lunch, but Brook was coming in so he should be covered. Em and I drove over the Venetian Causeway and we ended up at her condo in the Grand Condominium complex. She’s got a sky-box view of South Beach and I’m always both glad to be there and envious at the same time. We didn’t talk much because there wasn’t much to say. I didn’t ask where she’d been and she didn’t volunteer the information. She didn’t ask what I’d been doing; I’d already told her. If she’d had any affairs while she was gone, I didn’t want to know about it. And since she didn’t ask me about the past three months, I decided she already knew.
“I’d like to tell you. But some of it involves you. And some of it involves James. That’s a mixture that never seems to go well together. And some of it involves me.”
“Well at least tease me. Give me a hint.” She had picked up her spoon and was softly tapping it on her napkin. Irritating.
“James gives me some vision. Some dreams.”
She shook her head, her streaked blond hair shimmering in the light. “Dreams? James?”
“
You
give me some dreams.”
“We’ll table that for now.”
“Cashdollar gives me some dreams. He says that if you give generously, you will be rewarded.”
“And you believe that?”
“I’d like to.” I hesitated. She wasn’t buying this. “Jamesthinks the Cashdollar machine can teach us some things, about how a business organization should run. I can’t argue that this guy is a huge success. He’s got more money than —”
“God?”
“It would seem.”
“Oh, please.”
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
“Okay. And,” her annoying spoon tapping sped up, “where does all this trouble fit in?”
“Getting to the next level — with James, with you, with Cashdollar’s philosophy — doesn’t just happen. I think it’s a struggle to get there.”
“What? And you’re telling me that the truck, the tires, a threatening letter, the girl getting murdered, a vendor having an accident, and the senator getting shot are all things that
you
have to overcome? These are your problems so you can get to the next level?” She whipped the sunglasses off her face and her eyes were wide and bright. “Skip, have you completely lost your mind?”
I buried my head in my hands. It had all made sense last night, or early this morning. In a twisted sort of way I’d figured it out. And now, when I needed this concept to save a relationship, to get to the next level, it had escaped me. It sounded stupid.
“Can you forget it? James and I have some trouble. I’ll get through it.”
I looked across the street, toward the beach. A big limo was moving slowly in the heavy traffic, and I thought about Cashdollar and his trappings. The staff, the gold Bible, the limo with the tinted windows. Then there was a break in the traffic and I caught a glimpse of a man, standing in the grassy area. He immediately turned and ducked behind a passing car. When the line of vehicles finally passed, he was gone.
“I’m sorry, Skip. We’ve just seen each other after threemonths, and I have no right to come down on you like this.” There were tears in her eyes. “I want to start over. I’m not going to argue with you, okay?”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is all just smoke.”
“No. You’ve got to figure out what your dream is. I’m all right with that. And,” she wiped at her eyes with her hand, “I’m glad I give you dreams. Really.”
I looked into her eyes as she wiped them with her hand. Then I scanned the grass on the other side of Ocean Boulevard. He’d disappeared. The man had gone over the dunes, run to the beach, walked across the street, maybe even jumped into a car. But there was no doubt about it. The short stature, the thinning hair, it was the donut man, Bruce Crayer. And he’d been staring right at us.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
By the time we left it was eleven a.m. I knew that James was planning on serving lunch, but Brook was coming in so he should be covered. Em and I drove over the Venetian Causeway and we ended up at her condo in the Grand Condominium complex. She’s got a sky-box view of South Beach and I’m always both glad to be there and envious at the same time. We didn’t talk much because there wasn’t much to say. I didn’t ask where she’d been and she didn’t volunteer the information. She didn’t ask what I’d been doing; I’d already told her. If she’d had any affairs while she was gone, I didn’t want to know about it. And since she didn’t ask me about the past three months, I decided she already knew.
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