Lost December

by Richard Paul Evans

  We had been asleep for several hours when someone pounded on our door. I checked the time on the electric alarm clock: 2:46. I turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to me and walked to the door. I looked through the door’s peephole and saw Sean standing there.

  “We’re sleeping. Go away.”

  “Luke, open up. It’s urgent.”

  Surprisingly, he didn’t sound drunk. “Just a minute,” I said. I walked over to the closet and put on a robe.

  Candace woke. “Who’s at the door?”

  “It’s Sean,” I said.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost three.”

  “Tell him to go away.”

  “I did.” I walked back to the door, opening it a crack. “C’mon, Sean. It’s two forty-five. Come back in the morning.”

  “Please,” he said. His voice was pitched and nervous—just as it had been in Saint-Tropez. I opened the door and looked out. I didn’t understand what I saw. Sean was leaning against our door’s threshold. He was pale and his forehead was beaded with sweat. His hand was wrapped in a white cloth stained with blood. Even more peculiar, there were two men standing about twenty feet from him on both sides of the hall.

  “What’s going on? What happened to your hand?”

  “They found me,” he said.

  “Who found you?” I looked back and forth between the two men. “Them?”

  “They’re going to kill me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come back to bed,” Candace said. “Tell Sean to come back in the morning.” She rolled over.

  I stepped out into the hall. “What’s going on?”

  Sean said, “Remember back in Saint-Tropez when we had to leave? I was gambling and I went too far. They’ve followed us all the way here.”

  “Who followed you?”

  “Some men I met at a bar.”

  “How much did you lose?”

  “Two hundred.”

  “They followed you here for two hundred dollars?”

  “Two hundred thousand”.

  His words stunned me. “You lost two hundred thousand dollars?”

  “Euros.”

  “Euros. That’s almost three hundred thousand dollars.”

  “I’m sorry, man. But you’ve got to help me. I need the money.”

  “Sean, you’re already in to me at least fifty grand.”

  “You know I’m good for it.”

  “No, I don’t know that.” I shook my head. “That’s too much money. You need to call your father.”

  “He wouldn’t give it to me.”

  “He would if he knew your life was at stake.”

  “Then he definitely wouldn’t give it to me,” Sean said.

  “Then call your mother.”

  He looked at me fearfully. “She’s cut me off too.”

  “What?”

  “She’s cut me off.”

  Now I had real reason to be concerned. “You didn’t tell me that. You lied to me.”

  “I can get the money from my uncle. But it will take a little time.” He leaned close, his eyes wide with fear. “You’ve got to help me, man. If I don’t have the money by morning, they’re going to cut off my fingers. If I don’t have it by tomorrow night, they’ll kill me.”

  I looked back at the two men. I didn’t doubt that they were capable of violence. “You need to call the police.”

  Sean’s eyes flashed with panic. “Are you kidding? My life would be worth nothing.” I noticed his hands were shaking. “Please, Luke. Don’t let them kill me. I’m begging you.”

  I ran my fingers back through my hair. “You’re talking three hundred thousand dollars.”

  “You know they’ll kill you and Candace too,” he said.

  My chest constricted. “We don’t have anything to do with this.”

  “They know we’re together. If they kill me, you and Candace are witnesses.”

  “How do they know about me and Candace?”

  “They’re right there, man,” he squeaked. “These guys tracked us from France. They know everything about us. You’ve got to get me the money. It’s our only way.”

  I glanced at the men, then back at Sean. “You stupid, lying fool,” I said. “You’re going to pay me back every penny.”

  “Every penny. I promise.” He looked back at the men who were staring at us. “You have to tell them what’s going on.”

  “All right,” I said. “Which one’s in charge.”

  “That guy,” Sean said, turning back to one side. I walked over to him with Sean. The man at the other end of the hall walked up to us. The men looked at us with a darkness that literally sent a chill through me.

  “I’m going to help him out,” I said. “But we’ll have to wait for the bank to open.”

  The smaller of the two men spoke in a thick accent I didn’t recognize. “There bank on Via Condotti. We be at bank at eight-thirty. If you not come bank, we kill friend. If you tell police, we kill friend and you.”

  “There won’t be any problem,” I said, “I’ll get you the money.”

  The man looked at his partner. He grabbed Sean by his arm and yanked him back. “You hope he have money.”

  Sean looked at me fearfully. “He’ll get the money.”

  “Don’t be late to bank,” the man said to me.

  I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. I got up around eight. Candace was still asleep, but she woke as I was looking for my passport. I couldn’t believe how crazy this was. I couldn’t believe that I was dealing with people like this—this was something that happened in movies, not my life. I was furious at Sean for dragging us into this. Part of me wanted to let Sean suffer the consequences of his actions for once—but I had no doubt they’d kill him, and even as angry as I was at Sean, he didn’t deserve that.

  As I was putting on my shoes, Candace stirred. “Where are you going?”

  I walked over to the bed and knelt down next to her. “It’s early. I couldn’t sleep,” I said. “I thought I’d just walk around.”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said.

  “No, it’s too early. Go back to sleep.”

  She yawned. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Just sleep.”

  “Okay.” She rolled back over.

  I gathered my things then walked out of the room. I took a cab to the bank the men had directed me to. The men were parked in a car across the street in a Fiat Punto. One of the men got out of the car as I approached. He said nothing as we walked into the bank. I could see Sean in the back seat.

  I hadn’t considered that the banks in America would still be closed when I went to make the transfer. I explained to the men the problem, then I waited around until nearly three in the afternoon to try again. My stomach was in knots. The process of transferring the funds took nearly an hour, and it was almost four o’clock when Sean and I got back to the hotel. Not surprisingly, Candace was frantic. She was waiting for us in the hotel lobby.

  “Where have you been? I’ve been terrified that something happened to you.”

  “I had some financial matters I needed to …” I said.

  “No more secrets!” she shouted. “And don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot! I’ve got an M.B.A. What kind of financial matters?”

  “I needed to borrow some money,” Sean said.

  “What else is new? And that takes eight hours?”

  “Two hundred thousand euros,” I said.

  Her mouth opened in a partial gasp. “What?”

  “Sean got in with some gamblers in Saint-Tropez and they followed us here.”

  “They were bad dudes,” Sean said.

  “They were going to kill him if he didn’t come up with the money.”

  She glared at Sean, then back at me. “You should have let them,” she said. She turned and stormed back to our room.

  When she was gone, I said to Sean, “We’re leaving.”

  “I know where we can go next,” he said. “Dubai. I ha
ve a friend who has connections. We can get a room at the Burj-al-Arab for just twelve hundred a night for a month’s stay.”

  I just looked at him. “Does any of this even faze you?”

  “Any of what?”

  I shook my head. “Candace is right, I should have let them have you. We’re going back to the States. I’m sick of the drama and I’m sick of being bled dry by you.”

  “I’ll get you the money,” Sean said. “I told you I would. Where are you going?”

  “Someplace warm.”

  “My uncle lives in Vegas,” Sean said. “We can go there and I’ll get you the money.”

  I really wanted to leave him. Looking back, I should have—but when someone owes you as much money as Sean did, you want to keep him close.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Two

  The Bible says that money has wings.

  It doesn’t. It has rocket engines.

  Luke Crisp’s Diary

  The next afternoon we flew from Rome to Atlanta to Las Vegas. I was glad to be back in the States. Candace seemed relieved as well. Now all we needed was to get my money back, then dump Sean.

  I booked two regular rooms at the Bellagio and Candace and I went right to bed, waking at ten the next morning. Candace was showering when Sean knocked on our door. I put on my robe and answered.

  “Good news,” he said, walking into the room with his usual grin.

  “You talked to your uncle,” I said.

  “No, better, man. I landed a cabana at the Rehab.”

  “Rehab,” I said. “You’re finally seeing someone for your drinking problem?”

  Sean laughed. “You’re an idiot. Rehab is the pool at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino. It’s world-famous for their epic pool parties. Just think, two thousand buzzed beautiful women.”

  “You’re broke,” I said. “How did you pay for it?”

  “I charged it to my room.”

  “You charged it to me? How much did it cost?”

  “Are you even listening to me? Do you have any idea how much schmoozing it took to get a cabana on a Friday afternoon? You should kiss my feet.”

  “How much?” I repeated.

  “Three grand,” he said.

  “Cancel it.”

  “I can’t. It’s nonrefundable. That’s how I got the deal.”

  “I want my money,” I said. “You talk to your uncle today.”

  “Chill, man. I’ll get it.”

  I shut the door on him. Candace came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “What does he want now?”

  “He just rented a cabana at some place called the Rehab.”

  “I’ve seen it on TV,” Candace said.

  “It was three grand,” I said.

  Candace said, “You’ve got to dump him.”

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “He comes up with my money or he’s gone.”

  “So we’re going to the Rehab? Do you mind if I do a little shopping over at the Venetian? I need a bikini.”

  “No, I’ll come with you. I’ve got to get out of this place.”

  After Candace had purchased a swimsuit and cover-up, we walked over to the Wynn Las Vegas. I stopped outside the Rolex shop to look at one of the watches in the display window.

  “I’ve always wanted one of those,” I said to Candace, pointing at a Rolex President. I looked at the price tag. “Twenty-two thousand dollars.”

  “After all you’ve given everyone else, you deserve to spend a little on yourself. Give me the card, I’ll buy it for you.”

  I handed my card to her and I followed her inside. She purchased the watch and put it on my wrist. “Now you’re ready for your cabana.”

  We took a cab from the Wynn to the Hard Rock Hotel. The Rehab was a massive pool lined with palm trees, cabanas and bikinis. There was probably as much alcohol as water. We were led to our cabana. Sean was already there and, judging by the glasses on the table, well on his way to getting drunk.

  I was greeted by a pretty, bikini-clad server. “Hello, Mr. Crisp,” she said. “I’m Dot. I’m your cabana girl today. We’ve already opened a tab for you, may I get you started on some drinks?”

  Sean said, “Bring me a Tequila Sunrise.”

  “I’ll have a scotch,” I said. “Make it a double.”

  “I’ll have a piña colada,” Candace said.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said. As she walked away, I asked Sean, “Did you call your uncle?”

  He grimaced. “Don’t ruin it. I told you I would.”

  Candace and I sat back in our chairs while Sean roamed the pool like a reef shark. A short time later he returned with a half dozen girls, two of them clinging to his arms.

  “Lookie what Daddy brought home,” he said.

  “Par-teeeee,” one of the girls said.

  “Hey, girls,” Sean said. “This is Luke, your host and benefactor.”

  One of the girls, a short, overly tanned woman in a bright orange bikini, sidled up to me. “Hello, Luke. I’m Sam.”

  Candace took my arm. “And I’m Candace. He’s taken.”

  “You sure?” she said to me, avoiding Candace’s glare.

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  Her smile never left. “Whatever.” She went back to Sean.

  I spent the afternoon watching the women drink my money. Sean kept disappearing with different women.

  Last day, I kept telling myself.

  By late afternoon, Candace decided that she’d had enough sun—or drunk girls—likely both. “I’m going back to the room,” she said.

  I had had enough myself. “Me too,” I said. “I’ll meet you back there. I need to find Dot and close out the tab.”

  A few minutes later Dot came by to check on us. “Mr. Crisp, can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine,” I said. Actually, I was furious. I had just watched Sean water a plant with a $100 bottle of wine. As I looked at him, I realized just how much I hated him—and myself for letting him use me.

  “I’m ready to close out my bill,” I said. “Just put everything on my card.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  Less than five minutes later Dot returned. “Mr. Crisp, we have a little problem.”

  “A problem?”

  “Your card was declined.”

  “Declined?” I said. “That’s impossible, it’s a debit card.”

  She shrugged.

  “How much is our bill anyway?”

  “Nine thousand eight hundred fifty-five dollars.”

  “Almost ten grand?”

  “I can provide you with an itemized receipt. Your friends have been drinking a lot.”

  “My card still shouldn’t have been declined. Can you try it again?”

  “It can’t hurt.” She returned a moment later looking upset. I noticed that a security guard had followed her back.

  “It came up declined again,” she said. “Do you have another card?”

  “No, just that one,” I said. “Something’s wrong. I need to make a call.” With them watching me, I took out my cell phone and dialed Semken’s office. His receptionist answered.

  “Semken Holmes Accounting.”

  “I need to speak with Mike.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Semken is in a meeting with a client.”

  “I’m a client,” I snapped. “Look, this is Luke Crisp and this is urgent. You’re going to have to interrupt his meeting.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Semken asked me not to interrupt him.”

  “This is an emergency,” I shouted. “Tell him that.”

  She said, “I’ll see if he’ll take your call.”

  It was nearly five minutes before Semken answered.

  “This is Mike.”

  “Mike, it’s Luke Crisp.”

  “Luke,” he said. “Where in the world are you? And what’s the problem?”

  “I’m in Vegas.”

  “There’s your problem,” he said.

  “Look, I just tried to use my debit card and i
t was declined.”

  “Let me see what’s going on.” I could hear him typing on a computer keyboard. “That’s because you’ve exceeded your credit limit.”

  “Credit limit. It’s a debit account. Didn’t you transfer all my trust funds?”

  “I transferred the balance as you directed. The account is overdrawn. Let’s see, you have been making some sizable withdrawals. Here’s one alone for two hundred seventy-two thousand seven hundred forty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents.”

  “But I had more than a million dollars in my trust.”

  “That’s not quite true. You had nine hundred sixty-two thousand, two hundred seventy-four gross, but you had taxes of course, so you really had seven hundred twenty-four thousand five hundred sixty-five.”

  I knew there would be taxes, but I hadn’t really computed it into my behavior—the truth was I hadn’t thought that hard about anything.

  “… Then with the fall in the market, you were down to four hundred seventy-nine thousand three hundred sixty-two.” He was silent as he reviewed my account. “Looks like you’ve been traveling in Europe. The dollar’s so weak now, the exchange rate was killing you.”

  I sat in stunned silence. “You’re telling me that I’m broke?”

  “No, just this account.”

  “Do I have any other accounts?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do I have anything I can access with money in it? An emergency fund?”

  “I have nothing with your name. Your father has accounts, but he would have to authorize the release of those funds. Perhaps you should call your father.”

  I breathed out heavily, trying not to hyperventilate. “I need your help. I need ten grand right now.”

  “Of course I’ll help you, Luke. Just tell me where to get the money.”

  “Can you loan me something from one of my father’s accounts?”

  He laughed. “You know I can’t do that.”

  “My father has invested millions with you.”

  “And that’s because he knows I’ll protect his money. I suggest you give him a call. Good luck.” He hung up. My father’s words came back to me. Money always runs out.