Lies and Weddings(39)
“Well, funny you mention that. I’m sure you realize…ah…that the expenses have been adding up, especially since we were forced to change all the venues for the wedding at the very last minute.”
“For sure, for sure. Rather unlucky timing, that little jism of lava. But glorious to look at. Mother Nature at her best.”
Francis took a deep breath, deciding it was best to rip off the bandage quickly. “Might there be any chance…you could float me a little loan?”
“A loan? What could I possibly loan to you that would actually make a difference? What I have is a drop in the hat compared to you people. You know Hanne and I are so grateful, so grateful…” Prince Julius selected a cigar from the box and began unwrapping the plastic noisily.
“Yes, thank you. All the same, Arabella and I would be dead chuffed if you might express some of that gratitude in the form of a little loan. Don’t ever tell her I asked, of course.”
“Of course, of course. Say I was able to help out, how much would you need?”
Francis rubbed his chin nervously. “Oh, nothing much. Say, fifteen to eighteen.”
“Fifteen to eighteen…million?”
“Yes. Or twenty to twenty-five. You know, whatever is easiest. Perhaps a round number like thirty is easier to remember.”
“Thirty million…American?”
“Or pounds sterling if that’s easier.”
Prince Julius stared Francis in the eye for a second. “Ho ho ho, you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” Francis laughed politely as the prince smacked him on the back. “Bastard! You had me going for a second there.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“That was a good one! Sk?l! You know, we have been so worried about Maxxie. First he got kicked out of that hippie college for selling illegal mushrooms, and ever since then he’s been totally adrift. He has been nothing but a drain on me, a huge drain, and all his so-called social entrepreneur schemes have done nothing but hemorrhage money. Of course, he is a good boy, with the best of intentions. He hasn’t gotten himself in the sort of trouble that his little brother has.”
“Your son is in trouble?”
The prince took a puff of his cigar. “Don’t you know? My little Tassilo is a junkie.”
“Oh dear…”
“Yes, it’s all those new party drugs…NDA, YMCA, whatever they’re called. Much too addictive, I tell you. I should never have let him spend his summer DJ’ing at all the clubs in Ibiza when he was thirteen. He just came out of rehab in Switzerland—you know the rehab that’s nicer than the Hotel du Cap? Cost me three hundred fifty thousand euros a month. And he stayed for THREE months! My god, can you imagine if he was actually hooked on something truly addictive? I’d be flat broke.”
“You don’t say.”
“I say! And you know, I have not so much left in the kitty these days. I maybe have enough to see myself and Natalia through another ten, fifteen years, and then I’ll have to start selling off shit. I have a pretty decent Diebenkorn and one good Bacon left; the rest are nasty old Rembrandts and Flemish landscapes that no one wants anymore.[*2] Natalia wants to have a baby, and I said over my dead body. What are we going to live on if we have to feed a baby? Sell the Bacon? I can barely afford to pay my crew on the yacht. You know those Aussie yachties are so spoiled. You have to pay them top dollar. I might have to start hiring South Afrikaners.”
Francis stared at him in disbelief. “You’re really running out of money?”
“Of course. Why would I lie to you about such things? We are family now; we have no secrets. I might have to ask you for a loan someday.”
“But what about your wife?”
“My wife? Hahaha! What makes you think Hanne’s got any money? She has a flat in Oslo, one disturbing Munch she inherited from her great-aunt, and a ranch in Ojai, that’s about it. I’m footing all the bills for my whole clan.”
“I thought her family controlled all the oil reserves in the North Sea? For years every magazine has called her ‘the Norwegian oil heiress.’?”
“You of all people should know those magazines are full of ca-ca. Her von Melke av Sjokolade cousins are rolling in billions, those little piggies, they hoarded all the Class A shares starting in the seventies. But Hanne Marit’s father, who ran the oil company for three decades and made his whole family so rich, was too decent to take a single Class A share. Didn’t want to seem greedy. The old fool only had about eight hundred million kroners left when he kicked the bucket, and you know there were four kids to fight over the crumbs. Hanne has barely enough to feed her alpacas. And you know, those alpacas can really eat. They’re worse than locusts, and when they spit, those bastards can blind you in the eye.”
“Can they really?” Francis said, feeling sick to his stomach. All this time, he’d thought Augie was finally safe, that she had finally married money.
Prince Julius poured himself another glass of scotch. “This is why we are so relieved that Augusta accepted Maxxie. My boy is just so goddamn lucky to marry into the Gresham family! That’s one big worry off my mind. He’s your problem now, ho ho ho.”
* * *
?
The wedding banquet was the pièce de résistance of the nuptial weekend. Upon arriving at Bellaloha, the dinner guests followed the torch-lit path into the rain forest, where they came upon one long curving banquet table for three hundred that snaked playfully between towering trees and verdant bushes. Not content with the natural beauty of the flora, Arabella had demanded that each tree be festooned with flowers, and hovering over the middle of the table was a floral sculpture canopy composed of thousands of orchids, dahlias, and Icelandic poppies. At the very center of the banquet was a gigantic banyan tree with thousands of ancient roots descending from the branches, and hundreds of flickering lanterns were entwined in the roots, casting a magical glow onto everyone. As the guests supped on Dover sole à la Augusta on the eighteenth-century Greshamsbury Sèvres that had not been used since Edward VII had come to stay when he was still the Prince of Wales,[*3] Jackie was by the side of the stage, in the midst of fitting a remote microphone onto Rufus’s jacket collar, when Arabella came rushing up.