I flew back to Arizona that night, other more prominent investments on my mind. Necessary changes had been made during that lunch to her original and most lovely concept. Even though gold and burnt orange had been an inspiration for her fall wedding, she was not having a fall wedding. Sarah was getting married in June. Even though she fought me on such a big change (scene here? remissness about fight) she needed more time to plan a perfect wedding, she gave in. Not in her nature but I reminded her that none of my pennies were getting waisted, and no special day of hers would either.
When breakfast goes well the day goes well. And there is no way that breakfast can go well any time before 9:30 A.M. Most people are early worms and have a problem with digging in the dirt from eleven to eight. Especially when most of their weekends are spent cleaning up parties until sun rise. For the last four years I have catered to this complaint by doubling breakfast as a conference call with whatever office needs my expert knowledge. On this particular morning the Eastern ,Southern, and Midwest representatives of Ace Events needed to go over some general policy issues.
"When the barmy old people want to plan for their ninetieth five years ahead a time! I have never planned anything five ears ahead and I won't do it for some geezer who thinks their going to live forever!" My blackberry was balancing on my fork as Linda's voice came small and yet so so angrily out of the speaker.
"Linda, get a commission, plan it. That is the policy. I don't even understand this dispute. I planned an opening after party for a show that never even opened. We got compensated."
"Jerry," I held the phone up to my lips, it's a power trip thing. "The business isn't about compensation it's about making sure that people have the day, night, weekend of their lives. even if 5 percent of the projects turn into compensation projects we lose a great deal of profit and reputation."
"And when our reputation goes our costumers go." My Father is a suck up, if the family dynamic wasn't already American enough. "Aviran has a new policy to fix all that right."
"Alvin always has some blindin' idea to get us out of some rut doesn't he." Being ignored is part of the charm of these calls. And apparently being called a chipmunk has also been added to the list of conversation to expect.
Calling myself the boss has never been a responsibility I relished. To solve this problem I hired three people that would never consider me a boss anyway. Jerry one of my college professors held the East fort down, and Linda, a lovely British woman who believed she could see right through me had the South. My Father had the responsibility of the Midwest. Those parties never really got bigger than a rodeo or a tea party on an oil field. And once you got that down each one was pretty easy. My Father really wouldn't be able to handle anything else. But as a result almost all communique with them consists of my being called names that would make great business owners turn in their graves.
"Rockefeller!" One day I will miss Linda's voice. "let us know that brilliant compromise yeah hun?"
"Linda, while your concerns are valid and while I hate to admit it we are running a business so increase in income is an increase in income especially when we don't have to do half the work so..."
"Aviran?"
"Father."
"Aviran, you told me all about the new policy, can I draw up the contract?"
"I need to explain it to everyone else first."
"Can't I?"
"Terri will be explaining the proposed policy and once he is finished we can vote on how fair you all believe it is. Terri."
"Aviran and I decided that we are going to add a 'reservation fee' to all events planned further than nine months in advance. This will cover twenty-five percent of the anticipated event cost and is to be payed again for each half of planning is complete, then at the party finish the additional fee of a normal event will be added. Since most supplies are not purchased until event we would make a considerable profit on any event canceled."
My Father continued pitching my idea to my staff. We voted, we drew up a contract and we set up a follow up meeting; I finished another pot of coffee.
Jessica. Jessica, Jessica, Jessica. I chose Arizona for it's beautiful women. On our first date I had asked the frail runner up for Miss Arizona 2008 to go horse back ridding. When Jessica showed up with her voluptuous brown hair and her milk white Cowgirl hat cocked to one side I knew there had to be a second date. Girl can't ride horses for diet pills but she looked like a candle lit dinner would do her some good.
Date number three is always something I attempt to avoid. Attempt is a rather shaky word as it turns out. The girl asked me out on our second date, and potato's a gotten were not anywhere in the arrangements. No matter how pretty a woman may be I with a Frisbee date, especially when the planner forgets the Frisbee.
A gentlemen doesn't discuss what sort of things a millionaire and a beauty-pageant contestant do when a mid afternoon date is disrupted so rudely but it was enough to make me remember that candle lit dinner thing.
The dress she wore on that night made me sure that someone had made the wrong choice for winner at the state pageant, that was until she said howdy. She was walking into a five star restaurant and called howdy halfway across the hall to some neighbor she hardly knew. Then she tucked her napkin into the front of her dress and ate prime rib. Some strange mood that I was in that night forced me to eat the salad. I had a chicken salad...
Jessica wanted a fourth date and I told her I was seeing someone else. And really I see a lot of people throughout the day. I am not cruel I am slightly honest. Shallow interests are not beneath me. People who ignore the external characteristics of a person are ignoring all the years of hard work their mothers and teachers did to keep the elbows off the table and the hours a woman spends on her hair. No I do the honorable thing and pay just as much attention to a woman's external as she wants me to. That just very rarely leaves room for much other thought.
I was driving home alone. Car time is good planning time; pick the music for a sweet sixteen, ponder seating arrangements and wonder why the heck anyone invites their relatives to anything. That night I began planning on Sarah's wedding. I was one week away from meeting her and her fiance' to drive around to different locals. Meeting the man is always important. Often that's when I get fired or have to delegate the job to one of my female planners. The men just can't stand that dashing young Ace is spending more time with their betrothed then they are. Other men just assume I am too excited about the pretty colors to look too closely at their wife. Some men don't even care. What kind of man would Sarah's man be?
I have one of those houses that gets right down to what is necessary right away. No entry way or porch swings just what is absolutely necessary. I walked into my front room it was dark and warm. Only the gigantic highly decorated fireplace gave off any kind of light. The licking flames gave my maple red walls a dangerous glow. Maybe I perceived it that way because Father was sitting in one of the arm chairs. Dangerous glows just seem to follow him when he comes into one of my houses. I shut my front door making the wood thump like a dead body.
Father jumped in his seat but refused to admit to himself that that is how he realized my presence. He had a double take over the chair then stood to greet the prodigal son.
"Another date with Jessica?"
I nodded my head.
"Son, interest in s girl like that is just, is just..."
When Father uses the word Son a parental pretence is about to ensue. And in the case of women such a lecture is always to be expected. He'll start out with something that sounds as if it could be sensible.
"Son, she has a very narrow mindset, she, she wouldn't really understand the partying that you have to do."
Then he may try to back it up with some personal experience.
"As a sports fishermen all the women that I dated..."
But of coarse he has no personal experience.
"If I had ever had a girlfriend when I was a sports fishermen they really wouldn't understand the bond that I had with my rod."
Then he would stop making sense.
"The jealousy they had, would have had, with me and my rod, or as a consequence of my rod would be something like Jessica's jealousy with, in consequence with, of consequence of..."
And then he would start to realize it.
"You know better than I do what I'm getting at! You, you have seen this with your clients!"
The final piece of constructive advise would then be an emotional mess of bias.
"Jessica just can't think up to your level son! A a a model,"
"She is a beauty contestant Terri."
"WHATEVER, just don't get caught up in all that beauty and witty joking she is just another one Aviran! She is just another one!"
Once my Father caught his breath I invited him out of my house and watched him leave, shutting the door gently behind him.
The click of the door echoed in my mind, my Sunday shoes clicked along a mahogany landing overlooking 30 square feet of unused floorspace. the orange light was streaming in from the tall windows. I flung my backpack over one shoulder and felt the weight bounce as I ran down the spiral staircase I ran because I was taring myself away from something. the pull was tangible. A car horn honked outside and I could hear Fathers voice shouting something. A tall women in a dark suit met me at the door. she smoothed my hair back against my head and looked down at me with dead eyes. I pulled the large door with all my strength and headed toward the running Mercedes in the driveway.
That was the first right decision I had ever made in my short little dorky life. So what had I been pulling myself away from? I remembered a rose pedal, but why was it in pieces...
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