Joanna “Joey” Beretta strolled into her husband’s empty office. Her short, green and white dress displayed tanned and perfect legs which she crossed politely as she sat on a black leather couch opposite his desk. Moments later Frank Berretta walked in to be greeted by her dazzling smile and sparkling, ice green eyes.
“So, Beretta, what kept you? Does your old Ford need a tune-up?”
Tossing a soft leather satchel on his modern teak desk he turned to face his beautiful young wife. At sixty his movie star looks were intact and though his dark hair was streaked with silver he looked fifteen years younger.
“The ‘old Ford’ is fine,” he said referring to his black ’65 Cobra. He added, “Unlike you, however, I like to keep my driving under control and my license unblemished.”
“Yeah, right. You fear my superior driving skill and the fine German engineering.” She kissed him on the cheek.
“Your ‘fine German engineering’ was a helluva mess before I put all the pieces back together.”
Joey’s ’85 Turbo Carrera, like Frank’s collection of ‘60’s era convertibles, had been one of his personal restoration projects. The cars, big game fishing and Joey were the passions of his life, but definitely not in that order.
“You did a wonderful job, sweetheart. Between my Porsche and professional driving lessons you created a monster.” She gave him a flirtatious smile and sat provocatively on the corner of his desk.
Frank sighed in faux exasperation, “If I’d only realized!”
Joey was an “honors” graduate of Bob Bondurant’s driving school: a birthday gift five years earlier. She swiveled toward him, in full flirtation mode, letting her skirt ride strategically up her thighs, but Frank put a hand out in the universal sign for “stop”.
“Joey, this isn't the time to fool around. Besides, we’re at work and I’m your boss.” As if anyone would believe that. They tried to be discreet, but the urges they roused in one another often stopped just short of uncontrollable.
“OK.” Joey feigned disappointment and stood demurely beside the desk.
Even in a jaded town like Palm Beach, Frank Beretta was much envied, though not for his successful business, car collection, new sport fisherman, or classic bungalow near the north end of the island. No big deal. Everybody in town had stuff, only Frank had Joey. Most men and probably a few women lusted after her. While he admired her intelligence, courage, and competitive drive, her looks never failed to take his breath away. Joey turned heads everywhere, but remained very low maintenance. She considered time spent primping in front of a mirror as time wasted. Despite an age difference of thirty years, she and Frank were happier than either ever expected to be.
Together, the Berettas ran a company Frank started after he left the military. Known as "S3", Silver Star Security grew to become one of the premiere private security firms in the world and served a select group of high-end clients on three continents. Joey managed the domestic Personal Security division while Frank ran the Corporate and IT Security business. He sat on the board-of-directors at Legacy International, a global corporate support firm. Since 9-11, S3’s client list expanded almost geometrically.
“So, Joey, what’s on your agenda?”
“Marlie Stevens called. She asked me to come to California to meet a friend of hers, Persephone Andreadis. Have you heard of her?"
“The singer?”
Joey was surprised he knew and Frank went on sorting papers from his ‘in’ box. Maybe a sign of his age, some habits refused to die.
“Yes, the same.” Joey walked back to the couch and reclaimed her seat.
“Can’t you get someone from your LA office to meet with her?”
“You know Marlie. She wants me to come out in person.”
“Pretty soon you’ll need to pay her a commission. Since she and Barry hired Silver Star she’s doubled your client base in the entertainment industry to say nothing of the division's gross income.”
“Fair enough, and I’m the one who didn’t want to get involved with performers, but so far things are working out. If I had to live in LA full time it would be a different story. Even Marlie doesn’t do that.”
The popular entertainer and Joey’s close friend still called Nashville home. She and her hedge fund manager husband spent every possible moment in Tennessee.
Frank laughed. In the past year a young beauty named Jemima Burck had become famous as an actor and as the girlfriend of rocker Brian Stone. The press sophomorically called them “JemStone” and dogged the couple everywhere they went. Unfortunately for Joey, she and Jemima may as well have been twins and now her life was miserable whenever she visited LA or New York. In Palm Beach people were either too cool to care or pretended to be. Like Frank’s name. Everyone assumed him to be a part of the Italian gun making family, but nobody ever asked. C'est la vie.
“So when are you headed to California?”
“In the morning, if Jill can get everything scheduled.”
“Good timing. Billy’s taking the boat to the Big Game Club early tomorrow then I'm meeting with someone from Washington on board. We’re going to try to do a little fishing afterwards.”
“Fishing? Sure, Frank.” She rolled her icy green eyes and continued, “I’ll be on the west coast while you and your buddies are having a wild party.”
Frank’s new seventy-eight foot Rybovich would make a fine party boat, but nowadays, the only girl he partied with was the one locking her feline eyes on him. And, everyone knew he’d named the boat Une Belle Femme, ‘a beautiful woman’, in her honor.
“Busted, sweetheart, what can I say? I do what I must to keep those government contracts coming in.” Frank faked a sheepish grin.
“Do I need to go along to keep you out of the tabloids?”
“Sweetheart, if you went you’d be the one in the tabloids, not us.”
“Don’t remind me." They both laughed.
“Don't worry, Joey. There will be no evidence.”
“No evidence or no crime?” Joey gave her husband a snarky smile.
“Anyone ever tell you, you should go to law school?”
“Yeah, you do constantly. You also failed to answer the question.”
“Or, I succeeded in not answering. All in how you look at it, my love.” Frank laughed out loud as he finished aligning stacks of paper on the desk in front of him. He'd organized his day’s work and was prepared to dive in.
Jill Kline, Joey’s executive assistant, popped her head in the door with a bright, “Morning Mr. B.”
“Good morning, Jill.”
“Joey, I need to confirm your flight for tomorrow. Delta leaves Palm Beach International at about ten AM?”
“Perfect.”
“You’re flying commercial?” Frank asked.
“Yes. I’m trying to keep costs down these days.”
“Admirable. Let me know how it works for you, Jemima.”
She gave him a peck on the cheek and walked out with Jill to start her own day’s chores.
3.