BUYING ME BACK WITH A BUGATTI
All I could think about was Jen, which was crazy, since we’d only talked on the phone and met for lunch once. Sandie had been tapping my phones and running spyware on my computer for years, so she knew my every move right away –– which meant, she already knew about Jen. Sandie avoided confrontation, so she dealt with the new competition the best way she knew how. Good old- fashioned bribery.
She left me a message on my phone early that Friday morning.
“Hi Bobby, it’s me. I have a surprise for you. I am taking you to Malibu for the weekend to buy you a Bugatti. I Love you!”
She knew this was the one car I’d been pining for and that I wouldn’t be able to say no. She was right.
I invited my buddy Tom Green, and my other friend Matt Hewlett and his wife to come with us. I couldn’t stand the thought of being with Sandie alone, and hopefully having guests with us would provide enough distraction to keep her sexual advances at bay for most of the weekend. For the last year I’d had a serious ailment come upon me almost every time she was in “the mood” and so far, it was working. I hadn’t had to put out in months.
We flew into the Burbank airport in the Pilatus, and Sandie’s longtime friend, Mark Roney, was there to greet us. Mark was a tall, handsome guy with graying hair and a stubbly beard. He was always impeccably dressed and fashionable. Mark was the “black sheep” of the Roney Nu Skin empire –– the gay brother of Blake and Nedra, shunned from the staunch Mormon family because of his lifestyle choice. His sexuality wasn’t the only scandal that surrounded him. According to Sandie, Mark was also a disbarred attorney that had lost his license over some business transactions in the Philippines.
Mark greeted everyone and we made the introductions to Matt and his wife. I noticed him whisper something in Sandie’s ear, and they stepped away from the group to speak privately while we lugged our stuff to the limo. As usual, Sandie had over packed for the 3 days we were going to be there. She had brought 6 suitcases and a huge case full of makeup. I had one duffel bag.
“Damn, Adam, did you guys really need to bring that much stuff?” Matt joked as he saw me lugging it all down from the storage compartment on the Pilatus.
“This is less than usual, dude” Tom piped up. “You should have seen what they brought on the cruise. I counted at least 15 suitcases.”
Saturday morning we arrived at the Beverly Hills Bugatti dealership and were greeted by a slick middle-eastern guy wearing way too much musky cologne. He smelled like rotting wood. This guy was quite the ladies man. Sandie had purchased cars through him before, and from the way he eyed me it was obvious he knew that Sandie was the one holding the pocket book.
I was used to being treated like a gold digger. I didn’t give a shit, owning a Bugatti had been an obsession of mine since I first saw the prototype on the Discovery channel. It was the ultimate car and no one else I knew had one.
Nonetheless, the stinky fucker wanted to get the deal done and get his commission, so he let us loose in the dealership with the keys to anything we wanted. The guys and I were like kids in a candy store – we decided to take out a black Spyker C8 Aileron. The Spyker looked like a futuristic space vehicle- the whole roof of the car was glass, and the interior was quilted orange leather and chrome, like the inside of a 1950’s diner. The car was cool as shit. We pulled out of the dealership slowly, and as soon as we were out of sight, I hit the gas and we accelerated down Olympic Boulevard at 120 miles per hour. The car had a top speed of over 200, but screeching it around the traffic of Beverly Hills was exciting enough.
Next we drove the Bugatti. I had researched the car online, seen it at a dealership once, but nothing could prepare me for the experience of driving one. It made my Ferrari feel like a Toyota. This time, I took Tom with me and we peeled out of the dealership parking lot like we’d stolen the thing. The 16 cylinder engine purred and the immense power of the car was a rush. The ride was as smooth as velvet. I blocked out Tom’s idiotic rantings about how many blowjobs he’d get if I let him borrow the thing…blah blah blah.
When we got back from the test drive, Sandie was already filling out the 7 page contract for the Bugatti. It would take a year to custom build and cost $1.2 million. All of a sudden I had the sensation of claustrophobia. I realized that if Sandie bought me this car, she would own me for at least another year.
I pulled her aside.
“I don’t want it. Let’s get you something instead.” She looked surprised. “What? Why not? That’s the car you’ve been dying to have!” she said.
I knew exactly why, but I lied to her anyway. “I have too many cars. I think we should buy you the white Bentley GT Convertible. You deserve it.”
I could tell the salesman was disappointed that I was going to “think” about the Bugatti, but he was still getting the commission from the Bentley so he recovered from his disappointment pretty quickly.
My friends were more disappointed than the sales guy.
“What the **** is wrong with you man!” Tom said under his breath as we walked around the dealership. His blowjob dreams had been shattered, but I cheered him up with the news that we were going to dinner over at Anthony Hopkins’ house. Hopkins was friends with Mark Roney.
Matt and Tom were a lot like me –– a couple of Utah boys who hadn’t been exposed to celebrities and million dollar cars. It didn’t take much to impress them.
We pulled up to Anthony’s cliffside Malibu home. His wife, Stella, greeted us at the door. She was a tiny, energetic Colombian woman who quickly ushered us in and promptly sat us at the dinner table. The food was served in several courses by the chef, and each course was healthier than the first. Introductions were made, and Anthony and I chatted about his new independent film, Slipstream, which he and Stella had produced and were planning to unveil at the Sundance Film Festival. Anthony had a ton of energy and a vibrant personality. He wanted to know all about our ranch in Oregon, what I was building, how I was doing it, what type of wildlife was up there.
After dinner, Anthony showed us part of Slipstream, and we ended the night. We were all a little star struck, but at the same time, surprised at what a normal, genuinely nice person Anthony was.
That next morning, Mark dropped us off at the Burbank airport. There were a few less suitcases than before, which was unusual.
“Sandie, where are the rest of the suitcases?” I asked her, dreading the drive back to Mark’s house.
“Oh, I brought some Nu Skin products for Mark and his friends. I just left them at his house.”
I was surprised that Sandie never brought up Jen throughout the whole trip. I kept waiting for her to say something, but nothing ever happened. Not buying the Bugatti was another step to escaping Sandie’s control over my life, and I couldn’t wait to get home so I could call and see what Jen had been up to over the weekend.