“What’s that?” she asked.
“Well ... the fact of the matter is that ... uh ... you know ... that that nine hundred and fifty thousand is really only ... uh ... the down payment.”
Her hands stopped the motion of drying. She slowly turned and looked at her husband. “The down payment?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, fighting to keep his eyes on hers. “It’s uh ... twenty percent of the agreed upon price.”
Her eyes widened and then bored into him. “Nine hundred and fifty thousand is only twenty percent of what the plane costs?” she asked him, a little steel in her tone. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
He nodded. “Yeah,” he admitted. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Then the actual price of the plane is ... is...” She could not do the math in her head. “How much is it, Jake?”
“Uh ... four million, seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” he said.
“Four million, seven hundred and fifty thousand?” she nearly screamed. “Please tell me you’re kidding, Jake! Please tell me this is a fucking joke!”
“Well, it was originally priced at four million, eight hundred thousand,” he said, “but I won a bet with the owner playing darts and got fifty thousand off.”
This time she did scream. “Darts! You gambled fifty thousand dollars playing darts?!”
“I won,” he said defensively.
She shook her head rapidly. “Forget the darts,” she said. “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you agreed to pay almost five million dollars for an airplane you told me would cost around half a million and you didn’t talk to me about it! How long have you known it was going to cost that much?”
“Well ... uh ... pretty much since I heard about the plane from Jill in the first place,” he admitted.
“That was months ago!” she said. “Months! And you never mentioned it to me a single time!”
“You were on tour for most of...”
“We talked on the phone all the time, Jake!” she yelled. “At least three times a week! And I did ask you about it multiple times if you’ll recall! And every time I did, you said the price wasn’t decided yet and changed the subject. What the fuck, Jake?”
“I’m sorry, hon,” he told her, “it’s just that ... well ... you know?”
“I do not know,” she said. “You lied to me! You knew the whole time it was going to cost almost five million and you lied when I asked you about it!”
“Uh ... yeah,” he said miserably. “I guess I did.”
“Why, Jake?” she asked. “I know you are the one who makes the money around here. I know that! The only money I make is what KVA pays me for touring and recording and royalties and KVA is owned by you, so even my money originally comes from you, but we are married! Aren’t married people supposed to talk about things like five-million-dollar purchases before they happen?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “They are.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Well ... truthfully, because I thought you might try to talk me out of buying it.”
Her eyes continued to glare into him for a few moments and then softened a bit. “You decided it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission?”
He nodded. “That’s as good a way as any to put it,” he agreed.
She shook her head again, this time seemingly in bewilderment instead of anger. “I probably would have tried to talk you out of it,” she said. “Five million is a lot of money.”
“Four point eight million,” he corrected.
“That’s still a lot of money.”
“True,” he had to agree.
“But if you had just told me that it was something you really wanted, Jake, and if you had just showed me that we could really afford this thing—we can afford this, right?”
“We can,” he said. “The monthly payments will be around twenty-seven thousand. Insurance will be another eight hundred a month. California use tax—which is sales tax essentially—will be three hundred and eighty thousand, but that won’t be due until next year and it’s a one-time deal. And then there’s the one percent per year personal property tax that California will charge. That’ll run around forty-eight grand a year, gradually going down as the plane depreciates in value. A lot of money I will agree, but yes, we can afford it. As of the last quarterly meeting, I ... uh ... I mean we are pulling in more than nine million dollars a quarter in income when you add up the KVA disbursements, instrument endorsements, and Intemperance royalties. And that’s even before the next Brainwash album is factored in.”
Her eyes softened a little more. “That’s good to know,” she said softly. “Anyway, my point is that if you would have impressed upon me that you really wanted the plane and that we really could afford it, I would have said yes. You really didn’t need to go through all of this deception.”
“Well... now you tell me,” he said.
She sighed. “Jesus fucking Christ,” she said. “What am I going to do with you?”
He smiled, sensing the argument was now over and feeling a large weight of stress falling off his shoulders. “I think a good punishment would be to make me watch you have lesbian sex again.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” she agreed. “Only this time, you don’t get to touch me, or even jack off.”
“Well ... I can live with that, I suppose.”
“Until the next day,” she added.
“Okay, now that’s just cruel and unusual.”
She smiled then, and now he really knew the argument was over. And he had learned something fundamental and profound from it. It really was better to ask for forgiveness than permission—just a little more painful in the immediate confession period.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said.
“All right,” he replied. “I’ll get breakfast going.”
While Laura headed naked to the main bathroom just off the entertainment room, Jake went and relieved his own bladder and had his morning BM. After washing up from these activities, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and walked into the kitchen, shirtless. He opened the refrigerator and rummaged around for a minute. Their supplies were getting low, but he had what he needed to make them a couple of Denver omelets and some buttered toast. He got the coffee going and then began his construction project. Laura emerged from the bathroom, naked and fresh smelling, and walked back through the kitchen on her way back to the stateroom to get dressed. She returned five minutes later wearing a pair of denim shorts and a plain t-shirt over a bikini top (she still would not wear the bikini by itself anyplace she might be seen by someone other than Jake, but would wear it beneath a shirt).
“Looks good,” she said as Jake put their breakfast plates on the table.
“Naturally,” Jake replied as he poured each of them a cup of Jamaican Blue Mountain.
They sat down and dug into their meal.
“Anything on the agenda for today?” Laura asked. “You know ... besides spending five million dollars on a bathroom?”
“Four point seven five,” he corrected. “And we’re starting to get low on supplies. I don’t have anything to make for dinner tonight, we’re all out of eggs, almost out of cheese, and we’re down to one bottle of wine.”
“That will simply not do,” Laura said. “Where can we get these things?”
“That little town where we gas up the jet skis,” he said. “Rockwood. It’s just a two-mile ride and they have that little grocery store there just a block or two up from the docks.”
“Won’t things be hideously expensive there?” she asked. “You know? Like the four dollar a gallon gas?”
“Undoubtedly,” he agreed. “But you gotta do what you gotta do, right?”
“I guess you’re right,” she said. “And besides, if we’re going to spend four point seven five million dollars on a plane, why scoff at thirty dollars for a bottle of ten-dollar chardonnay?”