“Well, for one thing, I insulted him.”
“You’re not the first.”
“I drew a gun on him.”
“A misunderstanding.”
“I caused him serious bodily injury.”
“You called an ambulance afterward.” She smiled sweetly. “That was kind.”
Blake returned with our coffees, along with a cream pitcher and a sugar bowl, all on a tray. He placed it on my desk. “Is there anything else you’d like?”
“Privacy.” Lydia glared at him. Blake’s face flushed and a look crept into his eyes, as if he’d discovered another ouchie. “Okey dokey.”
“Thank you very much, Blake,” I said as he left.
Lydia stirred cream into her coffee. I sipped mine. Blake was right. It was very good.
“That assistant of yours. I recognize him.”
“He used to advertise Dylan’s product on his Instagram account,” I said.
“Gonzo,” she said.
“Yes.”
“We gave Dylan that company, you know,” she said. “He told us he had an idea for an energy drink with twice the caffeine of the strongest blend on the market and twenty-two essential vitamins. Bill and I gave him the start-up money. He’d failed with the dating app, but he desperately wanted to be an entrepreneur. I convinced Bill to provide the funds. I thought Gonzo was a catchy name.”
I looked at Lydia. It was pretty clear she’d been the force behind her husband’s persistent calls and emails. “I’m not a fan of energy drinks,” I said, “but it seems like a popular brand.”
“It is.” She swallowed her coffee. “Especially in the past two quarters. Not because of Dylan, though.”
“No?”
“The COO—an old college friend of his—does all the work.”
“Oh.”
“Just like the dating app and every other new toy we’ve ever given him, he got bored with it,” she said. “Your assistant probably takes his job more seriously than Dylan has ever taken anything. Even Harvard. Dylan went to Harvard, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” In fact, I’d heard all about his Harvard years from Teresa Leone—his girlfriend at that time. “I understand he wanted to go to film school after graduation,” I said, “but his father wouldn’t let him.”
Lydia Welch rolled her eyes. “First of all, whodoesn’twant to go to film school?”
I shrugged. That was kind of true.
“Second, his father wouldn’t let him because he felt it was a stall tactic. And I did, too. Dylan didn’t want to make movies. He wanted to spend another two or three years hanging out in Hollywood nightclubs and spending our money.”
I nodded. “Okay, but this friend of Dylan’s also told me that his father wouldn’t give him the backing for the dating app,” I said, “and that made him turn to some dicey sources.”
“That’s partially true,” she said. “Igave him the money for the dating app. Out of my personal account. When the business failed and I wouldn’t bail him out, he did obtain additional funding from Russian gangsters.”
Wow,I thought.That’s even worse.
“By the way, this friend of his,” she said. “Was this a girl, by any chance? One he was interested in and trying to impress?”
“Yes,” I said.
