May 5 , 2003

Part VII - The End of the Endless Summer - Don Laing 1952 - 1985

Most of the structural and hull repair work that Donny was so good at was completed by late summer.  Port San Luis was almost void of any craft in the boatyard and the semi-protected harbor was dotted with boats.

The owners that were devastated by last winter's storms were back enjoying the peak of the sailing season.   Donny had sold his 25' day-sailer Cerci, for reasons unknown to me.  I think his obsessive use of his American Express Card may have been a factor, but he was one never to let on of any financial difficulties.

He said he wanted to spend more time with Jules in Santa Barbara, but I suspected he was really looking for the next big job.  The easy money from the storm's rage had made life comfortable for us all.  Of course we plowed through our temporary fortunes just about as fast as we made them.  It was becoming all too clear that the money trail was coming to a dead end.  We just didn't know when.

Yvette and I continued to live at Donny's SLO bungalow and had work to complete on a large wooden motor yacht owned by a guy named Marty.  Marty was cashing in the the construction of the nuclear plant as a mid-level manager that was paid overtime.  As the plant was plagued by protesters and lawsuits, and years behind schedule, Marty would gladly work 90 hours a week to support the repair of his motor yacht.  His plan was to milk all the money he could from the construction job until it ended.  Then start a charter fishing business with his newly refurbished yacht. 

Rumors were that Marty had a little illicit sales business on the side -- and that is how he really financed the restoration of his yacht. This was, after all, the sizzling eighties and 5,000 construction workers had far more money than they needed to send back to the wife and family when payroll was issued every Friday night.

Don considered Marty's boat a piece of trash, but gladly took his money to repair the numerous gashes that the hull took last winter.  Don cut the deal to have Yvette and I work for him.  He was happy to have us as we were cheap labor relative to the skilled shipwrights.

'Vette and I did all the minor stuff.  I became expert at laminating and repairing all the wooden deck work.  My girlfriend-by-decree became quite good at brightwork and was varnishing throughout the cabin.  We worked from about eight until five each day and headed home for a quiet evening -- something new to both of us.  We did see the old gang from time-to-time, but with Donny now absent much of the time, his entourage disappeared as well.

For a few weeks we experienced something totally new to each of us -- living as a couple.   I, of course, did all the cooking - our pick of fresh seafood from fisherman we knew by name, fresh herbs and vegetables from the farmer's market and a well-stocked wine store a mere block from the bungalow.   I was consciously trying to groom 'Vette off of burgers & beer -- a diet she seemed to be on for years, yet never gaining so much as a pound.

And of course this was a time when we could talk -- mostly of our dreams.  Mine were clearly in transition -- LA and the aerospace community seemed something I could never go back to.  She shed her wilder-than-a-rock-star persona to reveal she never felt so secure.  The irony was that I never felt so insecure, knowing full well we'd be waking up from this dream when the money stopped flowing.

A week before labor day Marty announced that next week his monstrous motor yacht was leaving dry dock in Port San Luis and making her "maiden" voyage to a mooring in Morro Bay.  As the crow flies, that was all of about thirty miles.  Yet by water, given that only one of the two mighty Perkins diesels were running, it was a perilous trip around Point Buchon in some very deep water and a beachless jagged coastline.  Should that one engine fail, it would be a crap shoot if the coast guard could reach Marty before his yacht was smashed into bits.  Even Donny refused to go on the short voyage.

We left that day thinking that we'd just been given our last weeks notice.  Back in SLO, I was surprised to see Don's red Audi parked in front.  He was home alone and must have had a fight with Jules.  He was noticeably glum, yet a spate with Jules never upset him.  In fact, he saw that as an opportunity for a little new female adventure.

So, something else was wrong and he wouldn't tell me -- that is until Jules called.   I answered the phone and she said she was really sorry, but her bother was coming back from a summer in Europe and did not want to stay with their mother.  He was, after all, a senior.  So she gave Donny's bungalow to him.  We would have to leave.

Donny was so apologetic, that I thought he'd start crying.  It was no be big deal for me -- I still had a home in Palos Verde's -- with stacks of unpaid bills in the mail box.   Well, I figured it was time to head back to LA and grow up.  It was fate sending me back and not my decision. 

Would Yvette come with me?  She wouldn't say -- she was having trouble processing the loss of our job and home all in the same day.  The three of us got really drunk that night and I recall waking early the next day to Donny snoring away right in bed with the two of us.  We all were fully clothed so I don't imagine the night ended in a drunken orgy. 

I walked outside to pick up the paper and it was so chilly I ran back to the house.  Summer indeed had ended -- bluntly.  Back in the living room I noticed someone had called last night and left a message.  As we had the Donny's massive Sherwood stereo ramped to ten last night, I guess we couldn't hear the phone. 

It was Marty.  After Labor Day he was traveling on business for a month.  He'd like Yvette and I to stay on the motor yacht moored in Morro Bay while he was gone. And he needs us to finish the job!

I was so relived that I crawled right back into bed and fell instantly asleep.  We all woke up about noon and I told Don and Yvette the good news.  We were all elated.  Don insisted we drive back to Santa Barbara to enjoy the weekend with Jules.  

Summer had not quite ended, but I knew it was time to start preparing for a return to reality.