"Hamp, come on," says Newport. "Go downstairs. Play some black jack, slots. That's why we moved here, hot as hell, and bought this place?"
"It's too early in the day. I was at the crap table 'til two last night. And what, win a couple of grand. What is that?"
Newport reaches into his terry cloth robe, pulls out an iPhone, and waves it in the air. "Let's call Pepper and Cinnamon. They're real nice. Stress release. They never say no."
"They're off in L.A. doing their thing with some movie star people.*
"Well, my friend, remember yesterday when we talked about investing big with our money?"
"Investing, yeah. About the only thing that gets me excited...you know...at my age."
Two ladies swimming past look up and snicker.
Hampton looks down at them, and shrugs ."It's true, ladies. I'm not eighteen anymore."
"Age is just a date, you know," says one. The other nods.
"Skippy's coming over, " says Newport. "Hey," he points, "here he comes now...talk to us about Newport Hampton International."
A young man in Florsheim and Armani, carrying a thick briefcase, strides into the pool area.
The two ladies, middle thirties, micro bikinis, one Honey blond, one Hazel blond, raise their eyebrows. They float over, elbows over the side, chins on their arms. This could be interesting.
"So, Skippy," says Newport, "What do you got for us?"
"Hello, gentlemen," he says.
He pulls up a plastic deck chair, opens his briefcase, and pulls out single sheets of paper. "Got what you wanted," he says. "I spoke with some friends. Did my due diligence. Bottom line: It's a bad idea."
"Geez," says Newport. "That was quick. Real sure about this?"
"In effect, you want to start up your own NASCAR Circuit. But I think your money's better off in the bank?"
Honey and Hazel look at each other, and smile. Skippy looks down at them, their bikinis, and adjusts his horn rim glasses.
"But," says Hampton. "They got no real competition. We can compete. Just takes some money to get it started."
"Okay, guys. You're unconcerned about cost. You wanted to do more than just invest, you wanted to start something new. At least 9 figures. You suggested creating a new NASCAR. Three year plan, build seven to ten new race courses, bring on TV coverage."
"Me and Newp were watching the 500," says Hampton. "We saw all the crowds, and Wa-La, all the advertising possibilities."
"You want the bottom line?" says Skipper
"Not a good idea?" says Hampton.
"It's a mistake."
Skipper offers copies of his one page analysis. Hazel waves her hand. Hampton shrugs.
"Go ahead," he says. "Give the ladies a copy. We'll get some independent corroboration."
Skippy hands one to each. They both flash their lashes up at him. He breathes deeply.
"Okay," he says. "You're paying me by the hour, so here it is. Without further Government intervention, NASCAR gets $100 million a year in tax breaks, and a substantial decrease in ticket prices, they will cease profitability. Getting involved would be financial folly. Daytona has lost more than 40 percent of its ticket revenue, since 2005.
Advertising should make up for it," says Newport. "All those ads on the hoods, and those jump suits. Don't even have to be car stuff either. Tide, National Guard, M&M's, even GoHampton, our Internet Escort thing..."
Hazel raises her hand. "Real sad to say, but when Dale Senior left us, he was the last of a long line of drivers who made NASCAR. It's not the same anymore. We used to watch him on TV when I was real little, me and my Dad."
Hazel is right," say Honey. "Guys that drive today can't drive like the good ol' boys, The Allison brothers, David Pearson, Cale Yarborough, Neil Bonnett, Harry Gant. They used to fight each other, remember?"
"That's your problem, guys," says Skippy. "It's...how should I say it...Boring. NASCAR is owned by the France Family. They blame the economy, but there's more. Sky high ticket prices, cost of travel, getting a hotel. Who can go anymore?"
Honey smiles up at the three men. "I like car racing. Used to anyway. You got plate racing now, restricts the power, otherwise insurance cost are through the roof. And those phantom debris cautions. What is that? It's not the same anymore."
They all look at Honey.
"What? I used to date this pit crew dude."
"Precisely," says Skippy.
Newport waves his hand. "We'll just reduce the ticket price. We’ll do discounts for folks, the four-family-packs and the six-family-packs. Lunch included in the ticket. We'll get fans. Lots."
Skippy looks down at the two ladies. "Your right ladies. It's boring to watch, the drivers are boring, heck, even the sponsors are bland. The drivers are look-alikes, clean shaven white guys in tracksuits, and their cars, they're interchangeable."
Skippy shakes his head. "Coke Zero 400 had 57,000 seats in the backstretch empty."
"NASCAR drives need to get crazy," says Honey. "It's like cookie cutter. Get Jerry Springer behind the wheel. That'll bring in the fans."
Hampton raises his Mojito, and a man in a bow tie scurries over with a replacement. "Maybe we could run shorter races, without all the rules? That'd be more exciting."
"Stop Gap, sir." says Skippy.
"I got Hillbilly roots," says Hazel. "I get the biggest charge watching figure 8 Demolition Derby. That's my favorite." She giggles. "Daytona, the last ten laps, only part that's any good. $75 is too much to hear an announcer say,'And another left turn' 40 to 50 times in one afternoon. No me."
"Yeah," says Honey. "Let's bring back Richard Petty in one of his Plymouth Super Birds."
Hampton looks over at Newport. "I like these ladies."
Hazel and Honey breast stroke to the shallow end, and wriggle out of the water. They both put their towels around their necks, and walk toward the men. Skippy, the gentleman that his is, tries to stand but his knees buckle at their sheer presence, a tad stunned, and he falls back into the chair.
"Sorry," he says. "Ah, well, thank you ladies for your input."
Hampton and Newport beam.
Honey extends her hand. "I'm Honey. And this is Hazel. We're on vacation. We're kinda all alone."
"It's our pleasure, ladies," says Newport. "We should continue this discussion...over Champagne? After all this is Las Vegas?"
"We'd be delighted." says Honey.
"So Skippy," says Newport. "I think our money will be fine, sitting in the bank today. Good job. You probably saved us a ton."
"Just doing my job, sir." He stuffs the papers into his briefcase and waves as he leaves. "You all have a nice day."
"I'm sure we will," says Hampton.
Honey takes Newport's arm, smiles and winks. "Me and Hazel've been dying to try the dice table, but it's kinda scary..."
"Ladies," says Hampton. "Please, let me stake you. I know a little about this place. Brunch is sounding terrific. All of a sudden I'm feeling real lucky."
"Me too," say Honey and Hazel in unison. They bump fists.
The four laugh, and arm in arm, stroll toward the elevators. Being with two nice ladies, who will help them spend their money? Sounds exciting. And isn't that really what they wanted all along?
................................................
Help comes from:
* NCAA Throws the Book at Cal Tech, StiffLeftJab.com, (July 18,)
Autoracingdaily.com/news/nascar-sprint-cup,
bizjournals.com/charlotte/news/2010/11/04/nascar-hall-attendance-revenue-take.html,
thatsracin.com/2011/05/04/61498/speedway-motorsports-reports,
WikiPedia/NASCAR, readabilityformulas.com
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