“So that’s a powerful resemblance,” I said.
“It is.”
“If I wanted to pass Lauren off as Kathleen, who could I fool?”
Lou thought about that a bit. “You wouldn’t fool her spouse or a close friend or relative. Beyond that, you’re probably okay.”
“Good. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”
I asked Lou about getting me a jet. He put me on hold a few minutes while he made the arrangements. He got back on the line and said, “Got one. It’ll be waiting for you at the FBO in White Plains, at the Westchester County Airport.”
“How far is that from where I am?”
“Depends on where you are,” Lou said.
I told him. He hit a few computer keys and said, “Fastest way is to get you a chopper. The flight is only ten minutes, but it’ll take me about forty to set up. If you’re not in a hurry, you can use a driver, but I’d wait a couple hours before heading there, since it’s rush hour now.”
I looked at my watch. “If I leave the hotel around seven?”
“You’re looking at an hour’s drive to White Plains, maybe more.”
I told him I could live with that. I hung up and started packing my gear. My cell rang.
Joe DeMeo.
“You’ve been busy,” he said.
“Jesus, Joe, where’d you find those guys?”
“Ah, what can I tell you? Short notice and all. Look, sorry about today. Your whole thing caught me off guard, pissed me off. You shoulda called me first instead of poking around out there. I’d have cut you in. Now the whole thing’s turning into a mess.”
“You get my message about setting up a meeting?”
“Our phones are secure. We can work this thing out right now.”
“I’d rather meet face-to-face.”
“You got some balls, my friend. I always said so.” He sighed. “Okay, Creed, we’ll meet. You say when, I’ll say where.”
We worked it out for Saturday morning in LA, which gave me plenty of time to do some other things, including having another Maker’s while waiting for my seven o’clock drive to White Plains.
And flying to Cincinnati to meet my good friend, Lauren.
And making plans to meet a certain young model wannabe at a beachside hotel in Santa Monica on Saturday afternoon-assuming I survived my Saturday morning meeting with Joe DeMeo.
