“Wow,” Jim said slowly since some reply seemed necessary. He wondered why Tisdale was telling them all of this. “Sounds like it costs a lot of money to run this boat of yours.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Matt agreed. “The gooks and the faggots and the frogs only come aboard when we actually take the boat out for more than a day. The wop and the kraut and the beaners, however, they’re full-time on my payroll to keep things running and maintained and all that shit, even if the boat is sitting in dock. And not only do I have to pay them, but I have to pay for all this fuckin’ work comp insurance and their fuckin’ healthcare plan and bullshit like that. So ... yeah, it’s pretty fuckin’ expensive, but hey; I can afford it. Anyway, the reason I’m telling you this shit is that we’re taking the boat out tomorrow afternoon. Me and the boys just finished up with tour rehearsal this afternoon and we’ll be hitting the road for the first show in Seattle in ten more days. Since we got those ten days to kill, we’re gonna scrounge up some slutty bitches here in LA, sail down to my pad in Cabo, maybe do a little fishing, maybe have a few parties with some local gash down there, and then cruise back home. It’s gonna be one long, continuous fuckin’ party.”
“Sounds like fun,” Jim said, trying to picture the drunken debauchery of a Matt Tisdale yacht party. His imagination was not quite up to the task. It was like trying to wrap your brain around the Theory of Relativity.
“Like I said,” Matt told them, “it’s going to be fucking epic. And, since the two of you saved my ass, I’d like to invite you both to come with us.”
Jim was a little surprised to be issued such an invitation, and a little flattered, but his instinct was telling him that this was a jerk-off invitation that Tisdale did not really want or expect them to accept. Not that they could accept it even if it were sincere. “Uh ... that’s very nice of you to offer, Matt,” he said, “but I’m afraid we won’t be able to do that. We just started our work rotation and we’ll be twelve-on twelve-off for the next three days.”
Matt shook his head, smiling. “Nope,” he said. “You’re both off for the next two weeks, starting at the end of your shift today.”
Jim wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “How’s that?” he asked.
“What do you mean we’re off for two weeks?” asked Carla suspiciously.
“I arranged for you both to have some vacation time,” Matt said. “I talked to that corporate asshole of yours and he agreed to grant you emergency leave starting at seven o’clock tonight.”
“You did what?” Carla asked, anger in her voice now.
“Emergency leave?” asked Jim. “I can’t afford that, Matt. I only have about twenty hours of PTO in my bank. I can’t cover two weeks off.”
“You don’t have to cover it,” Matt said. “I covered it for you.”
“Huh?” Jim asked. He had covered it for them? What did that mean?
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Carla.
“It’s simple,” Matt said. “Kind of, anyway. I told that suit that I wanted you two freed up for my boat trip. He hemmed and hawed and started spewing a bunch of corporate bullshit at me, but you know what they say. Money talks and mine was speakin’. I funded a so-called ‘EMS conference’ in Vegas for his ass and just like that, he’s making sure you’re both pulled from the schedule and good to go. Of course, he wasn’t going to pay for you to have those two weeks off, so I’m paying for it for you. I was just going to give you the money—cash in fuckin’ hand, you know what I’m sayin’? —but Mr. Suit said I can’t do that. Some ethical bullshit apparently. But I can donate money to fund your paid time off banks. Apparently that shit isn’t unethical.” He shook his head. “Who comes up with these fuckin’ rules anyway? It’s okay to send him to a first-class hotel suite in Vegas, pre-pay for a couple of hookers to slurp his schlong for him, and call it an EMS conference; it’s okay to donate money to your time off fund; but I can’t just give you cash? What the fuck?”
Jim was still trying to process that he had just been given two weeks off with pay. Was this some sort of joke? Carla, on the other hand, was clearly offended by what she had just been told.
“You ... you paid for us to have two weeks off so we could go on your yacht with you?” she asked, her voice cold and steely.
“That’s right, baby,” Matt said with a grin. “I bet you look smokin’ hot in a bikini.”
She gritted her teeth a little and took a deep breath. “And ... and ... you just assumed that I ... that we would go with you?”
“Well ... yeah,” Matt said. “Why wouldn’t you?”
“Oh ... I don’t know,” she said sarcastically, “because I’m not a fan of being plied with booze and God only knows what kind of drugs and subjected to gang rape by degenerate musicians in international waters?”
Matt chuckled. “Would you prefer to have it happen in territorial waters?” he asked.
Carla actually shuddered for a moment, her fists clenching, her mouth opening to say something that her mother probably would not approve of.
Tisdale headed her off at the pass, however. “Don’t sweat it, baby,” he told her, giving a shrug. “If partying with me and the boys for a few days ain’t your flavor of bongwater, that’s cool with me. Nobody was gonna rape you or anything like that, but I’m not here to try to force anyone to have a good time if they don’t want one. I’m still giving you those two weeks off though, whether you want them or not. I repay my debts, you dig?”
Now Carla was not sure how to react. “Uh ... well ... yeah, I dig.”
“And check it out,” he said. “Since you don’t want to party with us, and since you got the next two weeks off anyway, how about I set you up with something else to occupy your time?”
Carla shook her head, “No,” she said. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Of course it’s not necessary,” Matt scoffed, “but I want to do it anyway. Let’s see ... how about Vegas? You like Vegas?”
“I’ve only been there a few times,” she said. “Really, Mr. Tisdale...”
“Matt,” he corrected. “Call me Matt. And I’m determined that you have some fun for helping to save my ass. How about this? I’ll get one of my limo drivers to cruise you and a guest to Vegas. I’ll book you a suite at that new place they just built ... the MGM Grand on the strip.”
You could see Carla thawing out by the second. “A limousine?” she asked. “A suite?”
“Fuck yeah, a suite,” Matt said. “It’s the only way to go. Four days, four nights and then the limo will bring you back home. Any drinks, any food you want, you just fuckin’ sign it to your room and it’s covered. And how about ... oh ... say twenty grand in casino chips? Ten for you, ten for your guest. That do you for four days and four nights?”
“Uh ... well ... yeah,” Carla stammered, looking a little dazed and confused now. “That should be enough.”
“All right then,” Matt said, smiling at her. “It’s settled. Just let my man Jack over there—he’s that big, scary looking motherfucker that let you in—know what days you want to go, and he’ll make sure it happens.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’ll do that.”
She wandered off in a continued daze, heading over to where the large security chief was standing, his eyes watching over everything.