I had an old stainless Submariner, which had cost me a littleover three grand about fifteen years ago. No way this kid had spent a dime of hard-earned cash on his watch. Doubtful he’d ever worked hard enough even to get a blister.
“Is that the fiftieth-anniversary model?” I asked.
He seemed resistant to my line of questioning about the Rolex, so I figured I’d go in a different direction to boost his ego just a tad.
“So, what areyouin for?”
“I wrecked a car,” he said curtly. Then, echoing my emphasis: “What didyoudo?”
Touché, asshole.
“Well, I got into a fight with a state trooper. Or maybe a local cop—not quite sure. Apparently, because of those love taps, I got flagged as a threat to someone important—a senator, I think. Some asshole who’s staying in the house next to mine. What are the odds?” I shrugged my shoulders and raised an eyebrow.
“Senator Harrison?” The kid was pretty astute.
“Yeah, that sounds right. You know him?”
“He and his wife have a house up here,” he said sullenly.
Switching gears, I asked, “The wreck—anyone get hurt?”
“No,” he sighed. “And I didn’t really wreck it, either.” He placed his head between his hands, rubbed his temples, and breathed deeply, as if deliberating how much he wanted to share with me.
“Well, what’s the issue, then?”
He lifted his head from his hands and stammered, “Okay—Jesus—alright, I took my mom’s car out for a ride with some friends.”
“Then what happened?”
“We went to Madaket to see some girls. We had a few beers and then drove out on the beach. I got it stuck in the sand, and the tide came in. It’s ruined.”
The scene was getting more dramatic by the second.
“I hate it when that happens. What kind of car?”
He scowled and shook his head mournfully. “It was a fucking Porsche, okay? A Cayenne.” He hung his head back down in shame.
I took a moment to consider the disconnect. This kid with the $6,000 watch had just ruined his mom’s $100,000 car, while I’d gotten my ass kicked by a bunch of cops just for walking into my own house.Classic Nantucket.
I straightened up a little and tried to sound serious. In my best older-brother voice, I said, “Well, listen, man, seriously, no one’s dead. Trust me, that’s always a good start. And second, no one is shooting at you. A car is a car; your mom will have to get another one, right? Sure, I bet she’s pissed right now, but deep down she’s pretty psyched that you’re still alive, I swear. Where do you live, anyway?”
“Summer or winter?”
It was the ultimate gentrifiedFuck you.But this pretentious little asshole clearly had a wiseass streak, meaning the kid had potential. I decided to play along.
“I’ll takeWHERE YOU WINTERfor $200, Alex.”
“Palm Beach, Florida. We come up here in the summer. Our place is over on Cliff Road.”
Of course it was. Cliff Road is probably the most expensive real estate on the island. People who live there don’t worry about sunken Porsches. It’s budget dust. They’ll laugh about it at theyacht club or at the next commodore’s ball or cotillion or whatever these people do for fun.
“Phillips?” said the desk sergeant at the cell door.
“Nathan R., that’s me,” I said, standing up.
Time for me to make my phone call. I gave my new buddy a knowing nod, stood, and walked toward the door.
The group of officers and curious onlookers had grown to half a dozen, including a pair dressed in business suits. Federal types, I assumed. I was about a foot taller than any of them and in far better shape than the entire group. While everyone watched me for signs of dementia or some other category of lunacy, I politely held out my wrists for the officer to cuff.
