Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [107]
I dressed and headed back in. As I made my way back, I saw a few others who had been at the day’s meetings coming back as well. This was probably not going to be good. I made it up to the Villas and Dave was off in the distance dressed in his pajamas, slippers and even had a cup of tea. Shelly was standing there and told me to go over to the ship and wait for Dave there. I went over to the Star of California Clipper Ship and there were already about twenty people lined up. Some were still in uniform and some were in their sleepwear. I was wearing my uniform, knowing that it was always better to show up looking like you never left. That was a golden rule I learned and adopted years ago. Over the years, people had routinely been picked on for looking like they had just been sleeping at 5:00 a.m. when, of course, it was expected that they had just been working hard at whatever Dave Miscavige wanted.
People continued to trickle in and line up, until I heard the buses pull up on the highway, the loud air brakes signifying a stop and the sound of hydraulic doors opening.
As the flood of new people showed up, it was the entirety of CMO Int. Maybe a hundred or so people, plus a few Gold and CMO Gold staff who were at the meetings that had occurred throughout the previous day. Now the pool area was full of people standing around wondering what the hell was happening. The pool was lit up nicely and whoever had been cleaning it lately was doing a damn fine job. You could see every detail of the bottom of the pool surface and even the lines of the drains, etc. I was not any sort of pool expert, but I was quite impressed with this one right here, right now.
Dave came down the steps, still in his pajamas, slippers and still with his cup of tea in hand. I was amazed to see him like this. I had seen him once before in his apartment at the Hacienda near Flag early one morning in 1995 when I was switching out an amplifier that he did not like the sound of. He was in his pajamas then, too. As COB Asst answered the door in her skimpy nightgown that morning, his pajamas were not really what I remembered most, but now seeing him again reminded me of that. I wondered to myself why Shelly was not now, again, wearing her skimpy nighty, and then thought about how I had not worn pajamas since I was a kid.
Was I supposed to be wearing pajamas? I thought to myself. Could I even afford a pair of pajamas? Certainly not super duper silk ones like Dave had on. Definitely not the fuzzy indoor/outdoor sheepskin slippers Dave was sporting. Those were just over the top. They probably cost more than I make in a month, I thought. They were surely straight out of the latest Hammacher Schlemmer catalog and cost a pretty penny. I was not in the market for a pair of those any time soon.
As Dave made his way down the steps to the pool where we were all standing, he took a sip of his tea. Then he started to explain why we had all been called back in.
He was apparently upset that after the meeting broke, some or most of us had gone home. Here he was, now having to do his entire day’s planned work that he couldn’t do because he had spent his whole day explaining our jobs to us. Now, he was going to be up all night working, while we were nestled snug in our beds while visions of sugarplums danced in our heads.
Dave had decided to vent his frustration on Marc Yager, who lived in a room with Guillaume Lesevre in the Lower Villa, where Dave also lived. However, when Dave got to Marc’s room he was gone. Long story short, Dave would frequently tease and torment Yager and Guillaume about being gay becasue they lived in the same room, even though this sleeping arrangement had been set up by Dave. He frequently told Marc and Guillaume that the only expansion they ever personally achieved was in the rear ends. Well Marc Yager decided that he wasn’t going to take it anymore. He dragged his mattress out of his room, halfway across the property, and put it in a