Aces and Knaves

by Alan Cook

  A hotel staff member pointed the way to the room where the Rotary Club met. I was one of the first ones there. Arrow hadn't arrived yet so I waited outside the meeting room door and watched the members come in. Arrow had assured me that my dress was appropriate; most of the members wouldn't be wearing ties. She was right.

  These were the men and women who supplied the goods and services that made every city and town in the country work. Division of labor begets high productivity begets the high standard of living enjoyed by us, residents of the richest country in the world. Most of the time we don't appreciate it. Suddenly grateful, I gave silent thanks for these people, even though I wouldn't have traded places with any of them.

  I even recognized two of the members. One was my father's tax accountant and the other was a travel agent our family had used in the past. I didn't think either of them would recognize me so I didn't speak to them.

  I saw Arrow walking up the central flight of stairs from the lobby and eschewing the elevator. Score one for her. She greeted me with our third handshake of the day and said, "Richard asked how our meeting went. When I mentioned your card business to him, he laughed."

  I should have known Arrow would relay what I said to my father. I said, "He thinks the only money I've ever made was when I was a bartender." Paying off gambling debts. "But I haven't done that for a while."

  Arrow frowned and led the way into the meeting room. After making arrangements for me to participate as a guest, she glanced around the room.

  "I don't see Ned," she said, "and he wasn't in the office. His admin said he had a meeting off-site, but she could have been covering for him. I hope he shows."

  We staked out three chairs at one of the tables and then mingled. Arrow seemed to know most of the members and they seemed to know her. I could understand why the men especially would be attracted to her, with her looks and personality, but they also treated her with the respect of an equal.

  I shook a lot of hands and heard a lot of names, which I promptly forgot. Fortunately, the members wore nametags. After a few minutes we sat down and were served our salads. The president made some remarks and other people spoke. Arrow introduced me to the group as the owner of a baseball card company. She made it sound much grander than it was.

  One man kept hitting members with $20 fines for various infractions, real or invented. Arrow told me the money went to causes supported by Rotary. I was amused at a sign that listed a 4-way test Rotarians are supposed to make before thinking, saying or doing anything. They included, "Is it the truth," and "Is it fair to all concerned?" I reflected that if people really went through all that before thinking, saying or doing anything nothing would ever get thought, said or done.

  Uniformed waiters and waitresses served the main course and still no Ned. I was fighting with my chicken when Arrow pointed toward the door. A burly, red-faced man with thinning hair had just come in. I wouldn't have recognized him. I knew he was in his late forties but he looked older.

  Arrow got his attention and he came over to our table. She said, "Nice you could get here before the food was all gone."

  I didn't know one spoke to a company president like that. I suspected Arrow didn't speak to my father like that. Or maybe she did. She introduced me as Richard's son and told him that I was thinking of joining Rotary.

  "It's a good organization," Ned said, giving me a numbing handshake. "You look a lot like your old man. Or at least what he looked like at your age." He had a husky voice that could have come from smoking; Arrow had told me he had stopped several years ago. He sat down between us.

  "I met you once at a company picnic when I was 15 or 16," I said.

  Ned grunted, but didn't act as if he remembered. He was more interested in food than talk and for the next ten minutes he worked at catching up to the rest of us. I surreptitiously watched him. He dressed well, like my father, in a conservative suit, but aside from that they presented a contrast in appearance.

  Whatever his problem was, it hadn't affected his appetite. He put away everything that was offered to him, including the usual, sugar-rich dessert and several glasses of iced tea. Then the speaker of the day, who addressed the importance of proper estate planning, made talk impossible. Since I didn't have an estate I daydreamed about owning the Honus Wagner baseball card that had recently sold for close to a million dollars.

  When the meeting ended I was worried that Ned would rush off and I wouldn't get a chance to talk to him at all. If this happened it would reinforce my father's image of me as a failure. Arrow and I walked with him to the elevator and rode down to the lobby.

  He walked rapidly as we headed toward the parking lot. I said, "I feel I know you because of all the great things my father has said about you."

  He turned to me with a crooked smile and said, "Don't believe everything you hear. But Richard and I have worked together for a long time and we get along pretty well."

  "I'd like to get your advice. I'm in the process of starting a business—selling old baseball cards on the Internet. I could use some help from someone who's been through starting a business." I knew that Ned had helped start several businesses in his career.

  "Starting your own Dot.com, eh? Build up the volume for a couple of years, do an IPO while retaining the majority of stock for yourself. Instant billionaire. You'll be worth more than your dad."

  "I'm afraid there isn't much chance of that. But I do think it has some potential."

  "Have you talked to your dad about it?"

  "He...I can't really talk to him about it."

  "I'm not surprised. Well, anyway, you're a flake off the old granite."

  We reached Ned's car, a new Lexus. He stopped at the door and said, "New ventures are always exciting. If I weren't so busy right now I'd spend some time with you. Go over your business plan. You do have a business plan, don't you?"

  I nodded without thinking.

  "Maybe in a few weeks we'll get together. But right now...." He shook his head. "My feet don't touch the ground anymore."

  He opened the door and got into the car. Desperation time. "Look...Ned, Arrow said you were flying to San Francisco this afternoon. Maybe I could fly up to San Francisco with you, talk to you about my business on the plane." I was shocked at my chutzpah. "Unless you have to work on the plane."

  Ned considered me for a few seconds and I thought he was going to turn me down. Then he grinned his lopsided grin, as if the two sides of his face weren't quite in synch. "Damn it, if you're willing to do it, I am. I'm on a United flight leaving at four. If you can make that I'll see you then." He started the car and drove away.

  Arrow was looking at me with what I interpreted as admiration. She said, "That was quick thinking."

  "Desperate thinking."

  "I wouldn't have thought of it. I'll ask Richard's admin to get you an electronic ticket and a seat beside Ned. Do you want to stay overnight?"

  "Since I just came up with the idea two minutes ago, my planning hasn't reached that far."

  Arrow chuckled. "Once you're up there it doesn't make much sense just to jump on the next plane and come back. Ned's returning on the 10 a.m. flight tomorrow morning. If you take that one it'll give you another chance to talk to him. I'll get you booked into a hotel, too, but not the one Ned's in. It's got to look like you're on your own nickel."

  "Why, is Ned staying at the Mark Hopkins?"

  "You know your father better than that. And Ned's the same way when it comes to company expenses. They even fly coach on short flights like this one. By the way, do you know how to write a business plan?"

  We looked at each other. I had already forgotten about that.

  Arrow continued, "I don't want to intrude, but Richard told me Ned is top priority and to assist you all I can. I'd be willing to help you put one together. After all, you don't want to blow your cover yet." Arrow looked at her watch. "I figure we've got less than two hours."

  I was embarrassed and somewhat miffed that I had to have Arrow's help, but she w
as the one with the MBA. All I had was a degree in Psychology. I said, "Where would we do it? We can't go to your office."

  "You have a computer at home, right? And you've got to pack, anyway. I'll follow you."

  ***

  I drove the Toyota through the electronic gate and into the garage. Arrow parked on the street. I came out of the garage and guided her around the outside of the castle. I didn't want to take the chance of running into Jacie because I would have to introduce Arrow to her as Richard's executive assistant, and I knew that Jacie was the jealous type.

  "Nice pool," Arrow said as we walked by it. "Too bad we don't have time for a swim."

  "Maybe if we work fast..."

  "I don't have a suit."

  "No problem. We're swimsuit optional here. Just ask Jacie. She's Richard's wife."

  "I know who Jacie is. And I've heard stories about her. Wasn't she on the pro tennis tour for a while?"

  "Yes, but she wasn't in the same class with the girls whose names end in ova. She got tired of doing all the traveling, only to lose in the first or second round."

  I unlocked the door of the guesthouse and we went inside. I wished I had made the bed. I led the way up the stairs and to the computer. I pressed the button to boot it.

  Arrow looked out the north window. "What a view you've got! I bet I can see my townhouse from here."

  "You can see most of the civilized world from here."

  Arrow came to the computer and said, "Karl, I have a question."

  "Questions are billable."

  "Richard—your father—has told me things about you. Based on talking to you so far, I gather that some of those things might not be completely accurate. There's one thing in particular...some things you said...I, uh, oh forget it."

  She was tied up in her underwear. The light dawned. "You want to know whether I'm gay."

  She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  "What do I have to do, show you my Playboy collection?"

  "Why does he say that?"

  "A misunderstanding. Which has gotten out of hand. Now it's impossible to correct."

  "Richard is so straight-forward in business. I gather his personal life is not quite the same."

  I didn't want to get into that. I brought up Microsoft Word on the computer and Arrow sat in front of it.

  She said, "I arranged for your plane and hotel reservations from my cell phone on the way over here."

  "No wonder my father likes you. My clothes are downstairs. I can pack in five minutes."

  "If you will help me get started, I can fake it for a while. Are you incorporated?"

  "No."

  "Well, do you have a name for your business?"

  "Karl's Baseball Cards?"

  "We'll have to do better than that. That name connotes a thousand square-foot shop in a mini-mall with dusty shelves and a signed picture of Ted Williams on the wall with a crease in it. And a torn awning outside."

  She made it sound so demeaning. I had a signed picture of Mickey Mantle on the wall in the other room.

  Arrow said, "How about Cards.com?"

  "It's probably already taken."

  "Okay, we'll leave that for later." She started typing. "What are your current sales?"

  I was too ashamed to give her the correct figures so I inflated them. I gave her a few more numbers and then I went downstairs to pack. Arrow yelled questions at me, occasionally, and I answered as well as I could. When I came back upstairs she was working with furious speed.

  Within an hour, without much help from me, she had completed a professional-looking business plan, and even threw in a spreadsheet with sales and earnings projections for five years. My product line had suddenly expanded to include all kinds of sports memorabilia.

  "I can't believe you cranked this out so fast," I said, looking over the printed output.

  "I've had experience. I did some for my MBA classes," she said, modestly.

  "There's only one problem."

  "What?"

  "This is pie-in-the-sky. Any similarity between this and my business is completely coincidental."

  Arrow shrugged. "Anybody who starts their own business has got to be a little star-struck, a little unreal in their hopes and dreams. If they knew what really lay ahead of them, no businesses would ever get off the ground."

  "If you want to know the truth, I'm not interested in running a real business, with all the associated headaches. I'm happy just selling my old baseball cards."

  "I don't believe it. You've got your father's genes."

  "That's what everybody keeps telling me, but I don't see it."

  "You will." She looked at her watch. "Time to go. I'll drive you to the airport."

  As we walked past the pool toward the side of the castle, Jacie came out of one of the sliding doors, wearing a white tennis dress. I'm sure she had seen us come in. She said, "Well, who do we have here?"

  I said, "Jacie, this is Arrow. Arrow, this is Jacie," hoping to cut it short.

  They both said hello. Jacie didn't offer her hand and Arrow didn't push.

  Jacie said, "This is the first time I've ever seen Karl bring a woman home with him. Of course, he's brought lots of men."

  "Jacie, it's great to see you," I said, "but we've gotta run."

  "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She laughed.

  "Not a chance." We made it around the corner before she could say anything more.

  "I take it Jacie espouses Richard's line," Arrow said, as we got into her car.

  "I haven't figured her out yet."

  "I have some ideas."

  Chapter 4 NED

  "Your plan looks very professional," Ned said as he glanced through it. He read some more. "I don't know anything about sports memorabilia. Do you think you can really do all this?"

  "I'll never know until I try," I said, attempting to keep a straight face and making a mental note that if I ever did start a serious business to steal Arrow away from Dionysus.

  We were flying over the coastal mountains of California, climbing to a cruising altitude of thirty-something thousand feet, as the pilot had just informed us. Scattered clouds below us were unsuccessful in blocking the sun's rays, which lit up the harsh brown hillsides. However, at sunset they turned into velvet.

  As the occupant of the window seat, I was getting a good look at some of the many aspects of my native state, the most versatile one in the union in variety of scenery. We had taken off over Santa Monica Bay and then turned right to a northerly heading. Just after takeoff I would have been able to make out my father's castle on the hill south of Los Angeles International Airport if I had had a pair of binoculars.

  Ned and I chatted about starting a business. If I could just soak up some of his knowledge, it would be very helpful, even with my modest aspirations. He was easy to talk to, unlike my father, but my mission wasn't to talk about business. After a while I realized I had to change the subject.

  I said, "I'll be honest with you. The reason I need to be successful in business is to feed my gambling habit."

  "Gambling?" Ned looked concerned. "What kind of gambling do you do?"

  "You name it. Vegas style, sports events, card games, backgammon...if you can bet on it I probably have."

  "You have to be careful with that shit. Gambling can ruin you. Have you run up any debts?"

  Now he sounded like my father. "Nothing I couldn't handle." By tending bar for up to 12 hours a day for three years.

  "You should never bet more than you can afford to lose."

  Something was wrong; Ned was lecturing me as if I were the compulsive gambler instead of him. Maybe I could build on this. I said, "You’ve got to spend money to make money. I'll quit when I hit the big one."

  "And what might that be, the lottery?"

  "I never bet the lottery. The odds aren't good enough. The state only pays out half the money it takes in."

  "At least you've got some sense." Ned looked relieved.

  "But on some of the other games, you
can swing the odds in your favor. Like blackjack. Do you play blackjack?"

  "A little."

  "You win more often with a ten-rich deck. So if you count the cards you bet more when there are proportionately more tens. Of course most casinos play with four or more decks now, which makes counting harder. But not impossible."

  "But if they catch you counting they'll throw you out on your ass."

  I grinned. "That makes it more interesting, doesn't t? So where have you played blackjack?"

  "Oh, here and there. Look, if you want to gamble, here's what you do. I have a meeting that will last until nine, or 9:30 at the latest. I'm going to give you an address. Meet me there at 10 o'clock. Or is that too late or you?"

  The last was said sarcastically. My father was usually in bed by ten and didn't take calls at home after nine.

  "Ten o'clock is fine with me." I had been up since five, but I could always take a nap at my hotel.

  Ned wrote an address on the back of one of his business cards and handed it to me. I glanced at it briefly and put it in my pocket.

  "What kind of a place is this?" I asked.

  "It's a private home, owned by a man named James Buchanan. Have you ever heard of him?"

  "No. Should I?"

  "If you follow the business news you might have. He's wealthy and somewhat eccentric. He has part of his house set up like a casino. Of course, having a real casino in your home is strictly illegal; you'll never see any money changing hands. But if you want to gamble, I guarantee you can do it there. You just won't have the thrill of losing your money."

  I was confused. "But what about the police...?"

  "As I say, no money changes hands. And Buchanan is an influential man. He's never been bothered by the police."

  As we approached San Francisco International Airport, Ned became quieter. I could almost feel his powerful muscles tensing beside me. I asked him about the dinner he was attending, but all he would say is that it was a routine business meeting for Dionysus. As we made our over-the-bay approach to the runway I got the distinct impression that he didn't want to land.