Money Child Read online

  Money Child:

  A Romantic Comedy Set in

  Orange County California

  Copyright © 2008 Rosemary I. Patterson, Ph.D

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1-4196-8781-6

  ISBN-13: 978-1419687815

  ROSEMARY I. PATTERSON,

  PH.D

  MONEY CHILD:

  A ROMANTIC

  COMEDY SET IN

  ORANGE COUNTY

  CALIFORNIA

  2008

  Money Child:

  A Romantic

  Comedy Set in

  Orange County

  California

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter01

  Chapter02

  Chapter03

  Chapter04

  Chapter05

  Chapter06

  Chapter07

  Chapter08

  Chapter09

  Chapter10

  Chapter11

  Chapter12

  Chapter13

  Chapter14

  Chapter15

  Chapter16

  Chapter17

  Chapter18

  Chapter19

  Chapter20

  Chapter21

  Chapter22

  Chapter23

  CHAPTER 1

  A Pressing Problem.

  On a one-to-ten, this is a ten-plus day," Fila Enderby said to her executive secretary Alvin, as they jogged along the wooden walkway next to Laguna Beach. Fila stared at the white-caps on the turquoise water off California with approval.

  "If only my employees can manage to function on their own in the office, Alvin."

  Fila appreciated that the wind was keeping pollution away, and that the recent rains were turning the iron-woods, palms and hibiscus bushes back into their verdant green.

  "Oh, the employees will manage somehow, darling," Alvin said sarcastically. His tone irritated Fila. "Remember what's really important in this world," he added. "Running the Los Angeles marathon in style, but how you're going to do that in that outfit is beyond me."

  Alvin glanced at Fila's basic sports top and running shorts in dismay.

  "After all, darling, you are the most successful real estate entrepreneur in all of Orange County. Surely you could reflect more of your success in the clothes you wear?"

  "Alvin, that's all you care about, how you look?" she protested. Fila glanced at Alvin's chic jogging outfit and trendy sunglasses in irritation.

  "But of course, darling? How else am I going to attract the love of my life? And if you ask me, you should be doing the same. If you want to please your father before he dies, that is."

  Alvin's words brought back Fila's most pressing problems. She felt herself lose her customary, smooth, jogging gait as anger and pain towards her only surviving parent flooded through her usually business-focused mind.

  Fila went back in her mind to the sequence of events that had brought her to the lowest moment in her life. Fila remembered that she had been present in the doctor's office when her father was given a death sentence. He had been told that he had less than a year to live.

  Fila had thought that her father would at least try and enjoy the little time he had left and turn Enderby Developments over to her to run. After all, she had already been managing all the company's projects in Orange County, California.

  Instead, her father had ordered her to find a husband capable of running Enderby Developments and, of all things, to get pregnant before his death to produce the grandson who would carry on the Enderby genetic line.

  And as if that wasn't enough for Fila to cope with, he had launched into a severe criticism of her handling of her latest and most important Orange County project. His words came back to her.

  "I want you to stop the takeover of that Seniors Complex, Fila. Every talk show and newspaper column in this state is calling you the Leona Helmsley of Orange County."

  All because a few pensioners had complained that they would have nowhere to go if she bulldozed their decrepit, old senior citizens' residence. Fila went into a frenzy of emotion as she remembered.

  "I can't believe it. Alvin," she blurted. "Why father was the one who taught me to ignore bleeding hearts and compassionate causes."

  "Well, don't tie yourself up in a knot, darling," Alvin's words whipped up even more emotion. "That won't attract the love of your life at all. Believe me, I know. What you really need is a complete makeover. Why, those dreadful shorts you're wearing are creeping right up your crotch, for heaven's sake. And the Los Angeles marathon is only two weeks away."

  "Alvin, there's more to life than marathons," she shouted, pulling her shorts down.

  "And those shoes." Alvin glared at her cross-trainers in despair. "Basic white, if I'm not mistaken. Don't you realize the world has gone psychedelic?"

  "Alvin!" she screamed. "My father is dying from lung cancer. I have to marry and produce a child pronto if I want to become the next chief executive officer of Enderby Developments. My greatest business accomplishment is about to be shot down by grey-power activists and all you can think of is looking good in a marathon."

  "What can you expect from someone whose mother named him after a chipmunk? Lighten up, believe me, the only way out of your predicament is to attract a man as quickly as you can. Do you want the name of my beautician? I'm sure she can do wonders for you, too."

  "There must be another way," Fila shot back. She thought deeply about her predicament. "Imagine my father changing his will to read that the first of his children to produce a male heir will inherit the controlling interest of Enderby Developments," she complained again to Alvin.

  Fila thought of her brother Drew. Her mother had unexpectedly died when Drew was ten and Fila was 16, and since then her brother had sought a surrogate. He had devoted himself to pursuing first teenagers, and now middle-aged women years older than himself.

  "Now I have to marry and become pregnant or there's a chance that the dweeb of a brother of mine will take over as chief executive officer after father's death instead of me," she seethed.

  "Well, I must admit, your father's new will is a shocker. And you do have the strangest brother. Isn't this the third lawsuit brought against him for alienation of affections? Can't he chase unmarried women, for heaven's sake?"

  "Drew prefers older women."

  "But I will never marry," she vowed. "Men are always viewing me as a gravy train or wanting to use me as a stepping stone to power."

  "You do have the strangest problems, I must admit, darling. I only wish handsome men were willing to use me as a gravy train or a stepping-stone. I'd be only too happy to oblige."

  "Alvin," she protested. "Be serious."

  "You know, darling, the will doesn't say anything about marrying. It just stipulates that a living male heir must exist. May be there's some way you can just have a money child. Like Madonna," he advised. Hers wasn't for money I don't think but yours could be.

  "If Madonna can find some fellow with a high sperm count and good genetics, jogging in some park, you should be able do do the same. You are wealthy, young and beautiful, you know. Particularly, if you would take my advice and have a complete makeover."

  "Alvin, be serious," she ordered him. "I've got all these problems and all you can do is joke.

  "I'm not joking. I'm quite serious. It could work, you know. Think about it. Draw up a quick list of attributes you would want in the father of your child."

  "Alvin," she protested.

  "Don't be too fussy, darling. Remember time is of the essence." Fila ignored his sarcasm.

  "Euro-American background, college or better education, an indication of giftedness of some kind, classic good looks, strong physique, above-average height, no evidence of baldi
ng in the family line, and, most important of all, willingness to procreate and then fade from the scene."

  "Now you're getting the idea," Alvin encouraged as Fila slowed her jogging pace and started to look at the men on the beach.

  "I must be losing my rational mind. What you're proposing is starting to make sense to me."

  Alvin pointed at a man jogging towards them in the distance. Fila looked but quickly realised that the fellow was on a skateboard and was carrying the largest boom box she had ever seen in his hands. Her ears were nearly deafened as the young fellow went by.

  "I hope you can find someone more suitable than him."

  "Of course. Really, you don't pay me enough for all I do for you."

  "You can get pregnant, you know, if that's what it's going to take to become CEO. You could have some legally binding contract drawn up that would give you the right to the child, forever. Just like Madonna did."

  "You're too much. Will you be serious?"

  "May be he would do?" Alvin pointed as they jogged around a corner and came into viewing distance of a man. Fila stared in the direction Alvin was pointing.

  "Alvin," she gasped. "That man has tattoos all over his body and he's jogging with a pitbull."

  "Well, if you're going to be fussy, this might take a while. How about that one over there, against that boat." Fila followed Alvin's directions.

  A large-framed, still youngish man with classic good looks and a full head of golden hair, was strumming a guitar and singing on the beach next to the sea walk.

  "Oh, he's gorgeous."

  Fila pointed to the hat from which the man appeared to be soliciting donations.

  "Well, may be he's not perfect, but time is running short. May be that means that the Greek Adonis would be likely to accept a monetary proposition from you with a legal agreement limiting the amount of separation allowance and access to any offspring?"

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  Fila's secretary pulled her down onto the grass just close enough to take a closer look at the fellow Alvin had just spotted. Despite herself, she ran her eyes over the man in her customary evaluative manner. After all, her father had trained her in the "eyeball" test for assessing human potential.

  "He's perfect. I could certainly get it on with him, myself. Look at his muscles. And his hair looks like its been professionally styled. He even dresses well, that is, if you don't mind a casual emphasis. Why, that man can even sing."

  Fila strained her ears to listen closely.

  "Save the whales and the dolphins," the man sang in perfect pitch.

  "Oh, my God, he must be a bleeding-heart environmentalist."

  "Well, I'm sure that activism can't be passed on genetically, darling."

  "And he's straight and doesn't seem to be married?"

  "How can you tell?" Fila gasped.

  "Trust me darling. I have natural radar for this type of thing."

  "Nice day?" Fila turned beet red as the attractive singer put down his guitar and came over to speak to them.

  Fila decided that he had a strong chin line. She noted that her heart rate involuntarily sped up as the man gave her a warm smile and put out his hand. Fila noted that his face was perfectly symmetrical."

  "Rolf Nordquist," he introduced himself. "Couldn't help but notice your interest," he added.

  "Toodle oo," Alvin told Fila as he shook Rolf Nordquist's hand.

  "Alvin, you can't leave me now."

  "Sorry, darling! I've just remembered a workout appointment? Lovely chap visiting from the East Coast. Could be my soulmate. Let me know how you make out."

  "Rolf Nordquist?" Fila questioned, trying to capture a semblance of her rational mind. For some reason, Alvin's outrageous solution to her problem was starting to sound plausible. She decided that it must be desperation.

  "Isn't that a Norwegian name?"

  "Right on," he replied.

  Alvin's list of attributes flowed into Fila's mind.

  "Norwegian, that's Euro-American, isn't it?"

  "Right. I'm second generation American, though. My great-grandfather came to America on a fishing vessel. Who are you?"

  "Fila Enderby," she introduced herself.

  He whistled. "Fila Enderby, the evil vice-president of Enderby Developments that's determined to evict those nice pensioners from their seniors' complex so she can flip the land under it for an indecent profit? I don't believe it. You don't look at all like what I thought Fila Enderby would look like. I imagined you as much older and much less shapely." Rolf looked at her physical attributes with approval.

  Fila realized Rolf must have been watching the television coverage of the whining pensioners.

  "Oh, that's just a bunch of media hype. We will relocate everyone of those sweet pensioners before we bulldoze that old building. To somewhere much nicer than where they are now."

  "Well in that case, can I buy you some lunch?" Rolf asked startling Fila further with the warmth in his voice.

  "Oh, don't worry, I don't always beg on the beach. "I'm just trying to finance my latest CD. It's dedicated to saving the last of the rainforest in the Amazon. I've set up a foundation to save the land next to the Yanomami reservation in Jaranei, Brazil. Any profits from my latest CD will go towards more land purchases. My foundation already has 10,000 acres in trust for the Yanomami."

  "Isn't putting out a CD a rather chancy way to raise money?"

  Rolf told her how generous people at Laguna Beach could be, when they knew the money was for a generous cause.

  "My regular gigs give me enough to live on but I have to raise extra funds to finance my pet projects. And middle-aged ladies along Laguna Beach are always so generous to me. As you can see." Rolf went over and scooped up the large pile of tens and twenties from his hat.

  "I've dedicated my life to saving the Yanomami. Any time, I need extra funds to purchase more land I just resort to serenading the older ladies."

  "Funny, I was just going to offer you lunch." On the spur of the moment she had decided to pursue Alvin's plan.

  "It must be the sun," she told herself. Suddenly, Alvin's advice seemed workable.

  "Oh, anyone as attractive as you doesn't need to subsidize me," Rolf Nordquist promised warmly. "Believe me, I always have a little set aside to romance anyone I find especially attractive. Even if you are the 'Leona Helmsley' of Laguna Beach the media is making you out to be."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I believe in synergy," he explained. "Being in contact with others with opposing views to your own. That way, both people have an opportunity to expand their horizons."

  "How about the pizza restaurant that's just down the street," Rolf suggested to Fila's dismay. She quelled her misgivings and nodded. She hated fast food restaurants. Fila customarily ate lunch in only four or five-star rated ones. But her despair had lessened somewhat as she realized she was seriously considering Alvin's advice.

  "May be there is a solution to my most pressing problem," she thought.

  She decided that Rolf Nordquist must be from hippieville but that Alvin was probably right that he needed money. On the spot, Fila decided that it wouldn't be too hard to get him into the sack. She knew she didn't mean to make the arrangement permanent, anyway. Fila repressed her dislike of social activists.

  CHAPTER 2

  Rolf Nordquist.

  Ican't believe my luck, I mused as I placed my arm firmly around the shoulder of my new found acquaintance, Fila Enderby, one of the wealthiest women of Orange County, and shepherded her over to the pizza place.

  I think she's sympathetic to my project to save the Amazon rainforest and the Yanomami, I decided, ignoring the lady's slight look of distaste as we entered the pizza restaurant. I didn't think she hung out at fast food restaurants much, I chuckled to myself. But my first priority was to check out just how much the wealthy lady was attracted to me.

  On an attraction scale of one to ten, I would say she's close to a ten, I decided, noting Fila attempting to hide her look of
revulsion at the decor of the pizza place.

  I had better sweet-talk this woman into something special, I warned myself. I need another 13,000 for my new CD by Friday at the latest or the deal is off. There's no hope I can collect that much from infatuated, matronly donors so quickly. I can't believe discs cost $14,000 to produce at the minimum these days.

  Oh, there's my little buddy, Zot, I sensed an opportunity to check out the level of Fila Enderby's infatuation further. If the lady isn't highly attracted I'm going to have to dump her quick, I told myself, even if I do find her quite personally attractive. I noted my own attraction with surprise.

  It's not often that I find flirting with these wealthy Orange County matrons pleasant, I thought, but this one is still young and very beautiful. I mentally reminded myself that my first prioriy was my Amazon CD.

  I led the lady over to a rather slight, oriental man in his twenties wearing glasses with thick lenses. Zot was wearing his usual cherry-red and orange robes. He was sitting by himself in one of the large nooks overlooking the bay. An anguished look appeared for a second or two on Fila's face but she quickly changed it to a forced smile.

  I imagine she's reacting to Zot's shaven head, I thought. I'm on a roll for sure, my spirits picked up considerably as I anticipated the look of pleasure on the face of the manager of the recording studio.

  She's a ten plus for sure, I gloated. I detected a slight gasp as the lady was forced to sit down between Zot and myself.

  "Zot, this is Ms. Fila Enderby. She's a real estate tycoon. Tell her what you do," I ordered.

  "Tycoon? Wat tycoon," Zot asked.

  "Tycoon sell land, buildings, Zot, on large scale."

  "How you do?" Zot bowed politely and spoke in his fractured English. "I Lama Tsot Rinpoche."

  "A pleasure, I'm sure," the lady answered. "Tell me what is a llama? I thought they were an animal species from South America." Fila looked perplexed.