Brief Encounters With Che Guevara_ Stories - Ben Fountain [47]
“Not at all,” said McClure, crossing the tee with a definite spring in his step. “I was just passing by, thought I’d congratulate you on your brilliant deal.”
“Oh, well, I appreciate that. Thank you very much for saying that, Kel.” Hayden smiled, the corners of his lips folding down as if to signify irony, indulgence. Surely he knows McClure is crazy, Sonny thought.
“Pretty soon you’ll be richer than Bill Gates,” said McClure.
Hayden chuckled, a feathery social sound. “I can’t say I’m unhappy with our compensation, but what really pleases me is seeing the deal come together, getting all the pieces to fall into place. For me that’s where the real satisfaction lies.”
McClure laughed. “I bet it is. But I was just wondering, what happened with the golf course?”
“The golf course.”
“Your development, the big course down in Dawei.”
“Oh, that.” Hayden frowned and looked away, gave his club a poky Bob Hope swing. Whenever any of them moved, the turf squelched underfoot like sloppy sex.
“Well, that’s on hold for now. We hit a few snags.”
“Oh my. Tell me about it, maybe I can help.”
“I really don’t think—”
“No, please. I insist.”
They were still cordial, Sonny noted hopefully. You could still pretend it was a normal conversation, though there was an edge to it, a nervy undertone like a key sliding back and forth along a wire. “Well, you know,” Hayden began, “we all run certain risks doing business here, it’s just the nature of the beast. Certain elements of society—how should I put this? What you’d call the gangster element, for lack of a better word. The people who make their living outside the rules. Still, you know, I thought we could deal with that. We took precautions, we thought we had the right people in place. But when we funded the purchase money into escrow…” His voice trailed off; he swiped the grass with a one-handed swing. “What can I say? The deal changed, but nobody told us. The bottom line is the wrong people got that money.”
“The wrong people,” McClure said in a bright voice. “Sonny, do you know who the wrong people are?”
Sonny shook his head. It was like an invasive medical exam, you just wanted it to be over.
“The wrong people, Sonny, those are the guys you and Merrill play golf with. The fucking wrong people were supposed to get that money.”
“That’s not what happened at all,” Hayden objected, trembling, his face turning pale and fierce—it was, Sonny thought, a fairly dead-on display of righteous indignation. “Absolutely not, this was a clean deal. We went over those funding instructions with a fine-tooth comb—”
McClure was laughing. He stood there with his hands on his hips and laughed at Hayden.
“—every step we took we had our lawyers sign off and I’ve got the documentation to prove it. Nobody can claim we weren’t dealing in good faith.”
“I’m sure that’s true, Merrill, I’m sure you jumped through all the hoops. I just wanted Sonny to know he was your window dressing. I think people should know when they’re being used.”
“Nobody used Sonny.”
“Right. You just hauled him out to a combat zone for his own good.”
“We contracted for Sonny’s services in good faith. And he was well-paid for his time, I might add.”
“Well, yeah, that’s true, Sonny did get a check out of it. Good for Sonny, but what about your investors, Merrill? What do you say in a situation like this, how do you make it up to them? Or, hey, maybe you already did. Maybe there’s a bigger picture I’m missing here.”
Hayden was curt. “Everyone understood the risks.”
“I bet they did.” For a moment it seemed as if McClure might grab Hayden’s throat, but then he laughed, a kind of bark like a chain saw starting up. “All right, I’m done. I think I made my point. Come on Sonny, I’m sorry I dragged you out here.”
But he wasn’t sorry, not really; he seemed quite pleased with himself as they started toward the clubhouse. Halfway down the path a thought occurred to Sonny.
“Should I give the money back?”
McClure laughed. “No, Sonny, you keep that money. I’d rather you have