When his phone rang, Nathan was in his bedroom at his mother’s house, lying flat out on his bed. After the reading of his mother’s will, he decided to stay, and not return to Miami. What was waiting for me there? Nothing that couldn’t wait another few weeks, whereas here I might be able to break the trust my mother had set between me and the rest of my inheritance.

Nathan looked at the caller ID: Haskell — his lawyer. What the fuck does he want now? Since moving to Miami, I’ve used this cocksucker to handle my affairs, and all the fucker has done is entangle me in ventures that have turned into nightmares — and huge legal bills.

“The bank won’t wait, Nathan; they want their money.”
“I haven’t got it,” Nathan told him.
“Didn’t you tell me you were expecting a large inheritance?” the lawyer asked.
“There’s a hitch. My mother put mine in a trust — and the trustee is her fuckin’ lawyer,” Nathan told him.
“I suggest you find a way to break the trust,” his lawyer advised.
“I’ve tried; I asked the fuckin’ prick to hand the trust over to me—but he refused.”
“Well, I strongly urge you to be a little more assertive. Isn’t there some way you can convince the lawyer to be reasonable?”
“What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing, Haskell,” Nathan yelled into the phone. “Short of finding him in bed with some broad other than his wife, I can’t think of what to do. You know how I stand. You’ve handled my real estate investments for the last fifteen years. I wouldn’t be in this shithole if you’d been more careful and not put me in the crap that the bank is demanding I now pay back — loans you arranged when I purchased them.”
“You didn’t think they were crap — as you put it — when I showed them to you. You even put some of your kids’ money in them, remember?” the lawyer reminded Nathan.

Holy shit; I hope Casa doesn’t go there. If she finds out I took funds out of Stephanie and Oscar’s investment accounts, she’ll have me by the balls.

“Listen, Haskell. I’ll see what I can do here. The estate lawyer might agree to transfer his
trusteeship to my brother, Aaron. If he agrees, I’ll have the money; my brother won’t stop me.”

After he finished speaking with his lawyer, Nathan thought about what Haskell had said.

If the bank calls in the loan, I’m ruined. In today’s market, the property might fetch what I owe the bank, but real estate is risky; you never know what price you’ll get — probably a few million less, and the bank won’t care as I’ve personally guaranteed the bank loan.

Why did Haskell have to remind me I’d invested my kids’ money in it? That, too, would be lost. I can handle the kids, but not their mother. Casa will have me hanged, drawn and quartered — the bitch.

First, I have to get my mother’s lawyer, Elliot, to hand the trust over to Aaron. Then I’ll remind my brother of everything I’d done for him when we were growing up. Aaron will agree to hand over the trust to me. After all, we’re brothers.

Fuck! I just remembered. I convinced my mother — okay, I lied … a little — to put money in a couple of those fuckin’ leasebacks, and she even put in some dad’s money too. Shit! Was there anything in the will about paying it back? Fuck! I’ve been in such a funk thinking about my problems that I didn’t listen carefully when that dickhead of a lawyer was reading my mother’s will. Maybe she didn’t put in her will that I had to pay it back. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she didn’t put in her will that I had to pay it back. Maybe she forgot. Maybe …

….

Nathan spent all day juggling accounts.

If I transfer funds from Linda and Celine’s trusts — their mother is in a memory care facility so she won’t realize what I’ve done for months — to cover the money I’ve taken out of Stephanie and Oscar’s trusts, maybe Casa won’t notice anything. By the time Linda and Celine realize what I’d done, I’ll have funds from the trust my mother set up for me. I’ll cover the missing money with funds from my own trust.

But on the other hand, that’ll mean I’ll have nothing left. How can I impress Marcia — that dumb bitch? I need the money from my trust to live like my mother’s cousins. Marcia expects at least that much from our relationship; she told me that that’s what she expected before she agreed to sleep with me.

Well, I fucked her real good, didn’t I? She’s a good piece of ass, I have to admit that much.

Wait. I’ve already drained the balances in the funds Mira and I set up for Linda and Celine. Fuck! There’s only the 50 bucks I left in the accounts so the bank wouldn’t notify Mira. Fuck! Wait — she’s got dementia; that’ll save me.

If I can convince that shit-for-brains Elliot to relinquish being my trustee and hand over that responsibility to Aaron, well, I’ll have enough to stall the banks from foreclosing — at least until I can persuade Aaron to hand over the entire trust to me.

And the Mirò my mother left me. As soon as I can lay my hands on that fuckin’ painting — off to Christie’s.

Nathan looked at the spreadsheet that he’d just created.

When I purchased the shithole Haskell got me into, I owed the banks $15 million. I screwed my mother into forking up $1 million from my father’s estate, and another $2 million from her own assets. And what did I have to do to persuade her? Lie and deceive — that’s how it works with every investor. With the $1.5 million I took out of Stephanie and Oscar’s trust accounts — leaving $50 so the bank wouldn’t close the accounts — and the additional $1.5 million I deducted from the trusts Mira and I set up for Linda and Celine, I’m left owing the banks $9 million. Shit! Why the fuck so much?

Nathan checked his numbers once more; he was positive he didn’t owe those motherfuckers $9 million. He came up with the same figure: $9 million fuckin’ bucks.

Well, my trust will cover that. You don’t have to be a fuckin’ genius accountant to figure this out.

But where will I get enough to pay for that fuckin’ bitch, Marcia?
 
Later in the day, Nathan went over to see — and fuck — his girlfriend, Marcia.

“I don’t think it possible to go now,” Nathan told her. “Can’t we wait at least until things settle down around here?” Ever since her divorce, Marcia had been urging — nagging — Nathan to take her to Hong Kong.

“What’s the big deal, Nathan?” she asked. “Shiva’s over, your sister Rachel and her little bastards have returned to New York; Linda and Celine are back in Miami; your other sister Hannah is busy counting and recounting her money; and Aaron—who knows what he’s about? — but at least he’s not after you for anything; and Casa, well, she’s so predictable that it’s best to count on her to try to stop us — if she finds out — and plan for it. So why can’t we go? You promised,” she whined, in her most seductive way.

It’s true; I told Marcia I would take her, but then my mother died — inconveniently — and I had to play along with all the mourning shit. And I don’t have the cash. I’ve already max’d out my credit cards. There are the bitcoins I’ve stashed away — but no one knows of them except my brother — and if I to cash one, someone — and I know who that would be: Casa — would find out, and then where would I be? Back in deep shit. So, no, I won’t touch them — not now — not to take this bimbo to Hong Kong to shop.

“You promised,” Marcia repeated as she sidled up to Nathan, sitting on his lap, one arm casually draped around her lover’s shoulders, her able fingers going through strands of whatever was now left of his hair in which women swooned — in the past.

“I know I promised, darling,” Nathan choked, “and I will. We’ll go.” … as soon as I get hold of some cash from the trust my mother set up for me. “In the meantime, how about ….”

He couldn’t finish. Marcia’s eyes were piercing. He felt transfixed.

The following day, Oscar got into his silver Mercedes convertible and drove over to his grandmother’s house, to meet with his father.

“Dad, I need half a mil,” he told Nathan as he entered the house.

“Excuse me for asking, son, but what the fuck for?” Before Oscar called, Nathan had been mapping out how he was going to proceed with the spreadsheet he had made. Now this idiot son of mine comes asking for money — after Marcia tells me she expects me to take her to Hong Kong to shop. Shit; when will I ever get a break? Maybe I should just buy an island somewhere? Others do it. Lie on my own beach, basking in the sun, and have the locals bring me daiquiris and shrimp cocktails. Get away from these kids and Marcia and their demands. Away from Casa and her scheming mind. I’ll call Haskell. That fucker must have some poor slob who needs to get out of a little piece of real estate. This time, though, I’ll be the wiser and not have him sucker me into another fuckin’ nightmare—like an island that’s in the path of a hurricane or the first one predicted to sink from the effects of global warming.

“One of the guys in my class ….”

“You mean, one of the shit-faced losers you hang out with?” Nathan interrupted his son, to better understand exactly where Oscar’s request originated.

“Some of the guys I hang out with really know their stuff,” Oscar told his father. “Can you give it to me?”
“I don’t have it,” Nathan told his son. And if I did, I’d be sitting on the beach of my private island somewhere in the tropics.
“Listen, Oscar, I can’t get my hands on that much — not at the moment, anyway. Give me a few days, okay?”
“You could get it from the money in the account you and mom hold for me. I could ask her?” Oscar said.

Assuring his son he’d do his best, Nathan jumped in his Aston Martin and drove to his sister-in-law’s — Jeanne’s — apartment, only a few minutes from his mother’s house. Aaron told him he would be there having lunch with his wife and invited Nathan to join them.

“How was your meeting with Elliot?” he asked Aaron, after greeting Jeanne and sitting at the table.

“Fuck — excuse me Jeanne — I haven’t had a decent meal since the last time you had me over. Mom never learned how to cook, you know, yet she thought she could teach every cook she hired how to cook — her way, and insisted they only use her recipes that must have been conceived to turn people off eating.” He forked a shrimp, looked at it suspended on his fork, then popped it in his mouth, closing his eyes as he began chewing.

“As expected,” Aaron told him. “I won’t bore you with the details, Nathan, but your ex- has a case. We’ll have to come up with something that will satisfy her greed. I wish you hadn’t married Casa.”

“I do too, but it’s too late now for regrets.” Nathan forked another shrimp, looked at it on his fork, then popped it in his mouth. “She can be sweet and charming ….”
“Please, Nathan, not while we’re eating. She’s got a one-track mind, and she wants to fill her train with pay dirt. And where do you think it’ll come from?” Aaron asked.
“Beats me,” Nathan replied, resting between forkfuls. “The estate, would be my guess. Jeanne, is there any more of this simply delicious shrimp scampi?”
“It’ll, of course, mean that we’ll all — you included — receive less ….”
“Why? Aaron, I can use everything I’m entitled to,” Nathan said as he reached for the wine.
“That may be true, Nathan, but where do you think what we settle with the grandchildren will come from? Mom’s estate is finite; we can’t stretch its boundaries. We’ll all receive less — and that includes me, you, Hannah, and Rachel, as well as all of the grandchildren.”
“What you’re telling me is good news and bad news, Aaron,” Nathan said, holding his glass of wine to the light. “For me, the good news is that Oscar will get a share equal to what mom left Rachel’s kids in her wish list …” … and will get him off my back and keep Casa ignorant of what I did regarding Stephanie and Oscar’s account s…. “… but the bad news is what you just said — that I’ll be paying for part of that out of what mom left me.” Placing his glass of wine to his mouth, he tilted his head back, allowing its contents to slide down his throat.
“Nathan, you have to look at it this way: we’ll all be contributing to what the estate — with Casa’s agreement — decides is fair. Your share will only be an eighth of this. That’s good news too,” Aaron added, in an effort to cheer up his brother.
“Perhaps, but what I’m about to ask of you is, well, delicate, I guess you might say,” Nathan began, helping himself to more of the shrimp scampi.
“Well, what is it? Do you mind if Jeanne hears?” Aaron asked.
“I need the funds from my trust,” nodding to Jeanne that she could stay, if she cared to, “soon.”
“What do you mean by soon?” Aaron asked, but he knew his brother to be technically — if not in reality — financially bankrupt.
“Like … yesterday,” Nathan blurted out, lifting his eyes to meet his brother’s.
“Well, that is quite soon,” Aaron replied — without intending sarcasm. “I don’t know if that will be possible ….”
“Do you mind speaking to Elliot for me, and ask — I would say, plead — when I could expect funds from my trust?” As he spoke, Nathan placed a shrimp in his mouth and began to chew.
“I will,” Aaron told him, “… but, I know he’ll want to know the reason,” Aaron advised.
“You don’t really want to know ….”

“I don’t, but Elliot will,” Aaron told him.
“Okay.” Nathan rested his fork on his plate, and looked at his brother. “The main reason is that I personally guaranteed the bank that lent me money to buy the last leaseback. (I won’t tell him about Marcia and Hong Kong.) “My lawyer in Miami who sold me on the sucker, called to tell me the bank is calling in the loan ….”
“Nathan, I can see where you require funds. What about your house in Miami? Surely it’s worth something. Why not put a mortgage on it? That way you might have enough to at least stall the bank.”
“I mortgaged it a few years ago when I needed funds to buy another of those shitty — excuse me, Jeanne — shitty leasebacks Haskell put me in. The mortgage on the house exceeds anything I might be able to get, were I to sell it.”
“Don’t you have any other assets you could sell?” Aaron asked, thinking about his brother’s bitcoins.
“If I did, do you think I’d be here today asking you for help …? (I’m glad he didn’t say anything about the bitcoins.) “So far I’ve managed — barely — to put off the credit card companies.”
“I was just about to ask you if you could find a way to increase your credit limit on them,” Aaron said.
“Do you think I haven’t thought of that? Months ago. They all refused. They said I was a credit risk. Me — Nathan Livitski-Herz — a credit risk? It’s unbelievable, Aaron. They all must think I’m some kind of crook. Well, the next is a little embarrassing.” Nathan’s eyes wandered off.
As if your entire life hasn’t been? Aaron thought.
“I took funds out of the accounts that Casa and I set up for Stephanie and Oscar, and funds from the accounts I set up with Mira for Linda and Celine ….”
“I take it that you did all of this without the knowledge of either Casa or Mira?” Aaron asked.
“Yes, and that adds to my embarrassment — because neither Casa nor Mira know, still. (I wonder if he knows that Mira’s in a memory care facility and wouldn’t know-for-shit if told.) I invested the funds I took out of the children’s accounts in this same leaseback the bank is now calling in, and I don’t have shit-all — excuse me, Jeanne — shit-all to pay off the bank, let alone pay back the kids. If Casa finds out, she’ll have me hanged, drawn, and quartered — if I should be so lucky.”

After leaving Aaron and Jeanne, Nathan hopped back in his Aston-Martin and drove over to his sister — Hannah’s — house. He had to find funds to replace what he’d misappropriated from the accounts he and two of his ex-wives had set up for their respective children.

“Hannah, be a good sister and help me out.” Nathan paused, but his sister maintained her silence, sitting in one of the designer chairs in the living room of her home.
“Perhaps Aaron told you — but I screwed up,” Nathan told his sister.

Again? Will Nathan ever face facts? He’s a total fuck-up. Wherever he goes, whatever he does — nothing succeeds.

“If I don’t replace the funds I invested for Stephanie and Oscar in that lousy leaseback, Casa will string me up and quarter me.

Well, that’s one solution to his problems — and to ours, too. Is there anyone he hasn’t ‘touched’ for a loan? When he wanted to buy the tool company, dad had already signed a deal with someone else, fortunately. Then there was the photo album company for which he borrowed three million — which he never paid back. He ran that one into receivership after the plastic it used caused the photos to disintegrate after sixty days. The beverage company that he bought — with borrowed funds — went bankrupt when the FDA discovered that some of the soda contained lead leaking from defective bottling equipment. I’ve since lost count, but by now his business failures have exceeded his failed marriages.

“You know I’ve always been straight with you, Hannah. (About as straight as a Francis Bacon painting. His whole life has been one distortion of reality.) I’m a Livitski-Herz, and we Levitski-Herzs are leaders, successful, and resourceful. (What is Nathan talking about? He’s delusional.) Did I tell you the latest about Marcia? She wants to go to Hong Kong. Yeah, I thought we would hire a driver and stay at the Peninsula. (Has Nathan really lost it? He’s broke. He’s max’d out his credit cards. He can’t pay back the bank that’s calling in his real estate loan. He owes his kids the money he stole by withdrawing the funds from their accounts. He borrowed from mom to invest in other real estate ventures. And now, he wants to show off — as though he had the wherewithal of our cousins.) I’m thinking about starting a financial advisory service. Maybe you’d be interested in having me invest some of your funds …? (He’s unbelievable! I’m beginning to wonder if we’re really related. Did mom have an affaire and he’s the result?) Marcia thinks I should run for office, you know, Mayor of Miami, that sort of thing. (I can’t listen to any more. I’m beginning to sympathize with Casa.) I could use a little loan, Hannah, you know, just enough to see me through until the estate begins to distribute our inheritance.”

“Listen Nathan — carefully.” Hannah leaned forward, her arms resting on her thighs, and looked her brother in the eye. “Who financed your last seven divorces? I did. Did you pay me back — or even attempt to repay any of it? No. Why would you even imagine I would give you a loan? For what? To act like a big shot, to take your latest — whatever — shopping in Hong Kong? My answer is, No. I suggest you start a messenger delivery service — and be the messenger yourself. Maybe all the assholes you’ve suckered into your failed ventures over the years will use your services, just so they can get repaid some of the funds you misappropriated from them.”

Later that week, Elliot informed Aaron that the estate had received an offer on his mother’s house. Aaron then called Nathan, as his brother was still living in the house. Aaron knew his news would not be entirely welcomed. Would Nathan rent an apartment? Or return to Miami?

“Aaron, how can I rent an apartment when I can’t even pay off my credit cards?” Nathan told him. “I’m being honest with you, because I always have been. You’ve never reproached me for my lifestyle. You know what a total disaster my life has been, and what a total shit I’ve been to my kids.
I’ve never hidden anything from you. While the whole world sees the iceberg, you’ve had glimpses of what’s beneath the surface.”

“What will you do, Nathan?” Aaron asked, concerned that his brother now might not be stable enough — mentally — to make the right decision for himself.

“I’ll move in with Marcia.”

Nathan did move in with Marcia.

“I don’t feel safe,” he told Aaron, afterward. “Marcia has a violent temper.”
“Nathan, you’ve been seeing Marcia for, what is it, nine months? Weren’t you aware of this before?” Aaron asked.
“Between us, Aaron, when you’re fucking, a violent temperament helps.” Aaron could hear his
brother chuckle when telling him this. “I get hard just thinking of it.” … chuckle … “The climaxes are a-maz-ing.” … chuckle …
“Nathan, perhaps you shouldn’t stay in her apartment?” Aaron suggested.
“And miss the climaxes?” Nathan chuckled.

It was a week later. At just after 3:00 in the morning, Aaron was awakened by a text message:
“Aaron, please call me in the morning.” It was from Nathan.

Before he had an opportunity to call his brother, Elliot called.

“Aaron, someone I know who works at the airport, called earlier, saying he saw someone resembling your brother board an Air Canada plane.”
“Did he tell you the flight’s destination?” Aaron became anxious, remembering his brother’s
message during the night.
“San Juan,” the lawyer told him. “I need to reach him, to discuss a little matter. The New York State Securities Commission has issued a subpoena against him; they want to question him for fraud.”
“Elliot, I’ll call you back later.” As soon as he hung up with the lawyer, Aaron called Haskell, Nathan’s Miami lawyer.
“I was expecting your call,” the lawyer said. “Your brother told me that, if you called, I should give you a message from him, that during the week he closed on a private island in the Caribbean, one that’s been on the market for a while.”

The lawyer didn’t have to explain further. The bitcoins. Nathan cashed them in and bought his island. He wondered if Marcia was with him, so he called his sister.

“Hannah, have you heard from Marcia?”
“I was just about to call you, Aaron. She’s been admitted to the hospital … in the psychiatric unit.”