Chapter 61: Money Problems?
A few days had passed since I talked to Alex. I was in Malibu watching football with Charlie and Jake.
"The kick is up, it's long enough... The kick is no good!" the commentator announced on TV.
"Yes!" the three of us shouted in unison, high-fiving each other.
Alan, who had just walked into the room, asked, "Who won?"
"Who cares? We covered the spread!" Jake replied excitedly.
"Charlie, call me an old-fashioned dad, but I was hoping my son wouldn't start betting on sports until he was old enough to have a drinking problem," Alan lectured.
Charlie waved it off. "He didn't really make a bet. I just gave him a taste of my action."
"Nor do I want him tasting your action," Alan countered.
"Dad, without action, there's no juice," Jake explained matter-of-factly.
"See?" Alan said dryly, "All of a sudden, he's Frank Sinatra."
I joined the conversation, "Relax, Uncle. We just bet pocket money."
"And how much is that?" he questioned.
"A grand each," I replied casually.
Alan's eyes nearly popped out. "You're betting a grand?!"
The doorbell suddenly rang
"I bet that's the pizza," Charlie said.
My cousin asked eagerly, "What's the spread?"
"Pepperoni," Dad grinned, ignoring Alan's outburst.
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The next morning, Alan and I were already having breakfast.
"Morning, Berta. Need some help?" My uncle offered as she entered with a grocery bag.
Berta gave him a flat look, "Yeah. Come to my house and explain to my daughter that we don't post bail for cute guys with Costa Rican passports."
I smiled. "Nothing like starting the day with good humor."
"Morning," Dad greeted as he walked into the kitchen.
"Got your groceries, Charlie. You owe me seventy-four bucks," Berta informed him.
"Why didn't you just use my credit card?" he asked.
"I tried. Funny story," She pulled a handful of tiny fragments from her pocket - the remains of what used to be a card.
"My platinum card. Look what they did to my platinum card." Charlie stared in disbelief at the shredded pieces. "They decapitated my holographic eagle."
"Here," I handed Berta a hundred-dollar bill. "Keep the change."
Berta smirked. "Do I need to hook up with every bimbo and pass out drunk in alleys for God to bless me with a son like that?" she quipped, throwing Charlie a sarcastic glance.
"I'll pay you back, son," Charlie said while still staring at the shredded card.
I dismissed, "No need. And Berta, I'll pay you in full - just keep everything spotless."
I don't mind helping with the household bills. I would do the same in Brentwood too, but Jay never lets me help, so I just buy him nice drinks and gifts instead.
"Gentlemen," Berta looked at Charlie and Alan. "If you had any doubt before, now it's crystal clear who I work for."
"Finally, I've got a very smart boss," she muttered loudly as she walked away.
Later, Dad called the bank and found out that several bills were overdue, and his cards were blocked. He and Alan went to see the accountant who handled all the payments, while I stayed home and called a few contacts I knew.
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After taking an afternoon nap, I went to the kitchen. When I got there, several boxes of documents were spread across the table while Alan was inspecting some of them.
Charlie was beside him, doing absolutely nothing.
"So, how's the situation?" I asked, already reaching for a cup of coffee.
Alan began explaining, "The good news is that a substantial amount of royalties is going to come in over the next couple of months."
"Great. Problem solved. Let's go out to dinner," Charlie suggested enthusiastically.
"No, problem not solved," Alan replied dryly. "It's going to take a while to pay off all the bills your accountant ignored. Until then, you're going to have to cut back."
I grabbed the compiled expense sheet Uncle Alan had prepared and asked, "Dad, what are 'miscellaneous cash expenses'?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. Go see a movie, buy a hot dog, stuff like that."
Uncle Alan frowned. "It was eighty thousand dollars last year."
"That! That's women and gambling," Dad admitted without a hint of shame.
"Okay, from what I'm seeing, you really need to manage your finances better, Dad," I observed. "Your expenses are all over the place."
I tossed the papers on the table. "Come on, let's have dinner at that restaurant nearby - I'm starving too."
"Francis, we need to cut expenses," Alan repeated firmly.
"Hello?! Did you both forget that I also have a source of income? I can lend some money to my dad," I replied, unfazed.
Charlie patted my back. "Thank you, son, but I can't accept that."
"Hey, if we don't pay the bills, soon we won't have power, internet, or anything else," I pointed out, looking at Charlie. "And Dad, you can pay me back when you get the Royalties. Otherwise, I'll just take your Jaguar," I joked.
Charlie thought for a moment and said, "Okay, I'll accept," sounding a bit resigned.
Uncle Alan quipped, "You could also lend me some money."
"Yeah, fat chance. Unless you start giving 'happy endings' in your massages, I don't want to be paid in years," I replied sarcastically.
I wouldn't lend money to someone I didn't deeply care about, let alone to someone I have little to no respect for.
"Hey," Dad said, touching his chin thoughtfully. "Now I know what to get you for Christmas, Alan. Baby oil, so you can make more money," he smirked.
"Shut up, Charlie," Alan shot back.
We went out for dinner. Later, Alan and Charlie returned to the Malibu house while I went to meet Summer, who helped me pick out Christmas gifts for everyone.
A few days later, Charlie's former accountant was arrested for import and export issues and for embezzling from some of his clients (not Dad, though - Charlie spent money faster than the guy could even get his hands on it).
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