Here’s a logistical template for any Palm Beach mistress wannabes out there. This is how it’s done. (Well, not always, but in this instance anyway, this is how it was done.)
Some years back I had an acquaintance who was the mistress of a European gazillionaire. (Such women as she can’t really afford the luxury of friends in that cutthroat milieu.) He was, of course, a lot older than she. Twice her age, in fact.
Once, she and her boyfriend were dining and drinking at a famed Palm Beach restaurant on Worth Avenue. Her boyfriend went to the bar for some reason and started buying champagne for an attractive blonde. His mistress got antsy and went to retrieve him. He resisted. She told him it was time to come back to the table. He did not comply quickly enough.
So she grabbed him by his hair, spun him around on the bar stool and decked him with a single punch. She was only protecting her turf.
Her advice to me?
“When you want to get a balding man’s attention, grab his hair.”
Words to live by. I guess.
One day this woman picked me up at the airport in the Mercedes her boyfriend had purchased for her. (It was only a “C” class though, so he couldn’t have been totally in love with her at the time.) On the way home she was just bubbling over with happiness because, she said, she’d inherited a bunch of really high quality jewelry. I’d never seen her so happy.
Well, turns out she hadn’t really inherited the jewels, her boyfriend had. His wife had committed suicide because he–a Catholic–wouldn’t give her a divorce despite the fact that he was living with his mistress in his oceanfront mansion in Palm Beach. That’s where the jewelry had come from–from the woman who’d killed herself because of the mistress.
Sound cold? Palm Beach mistresses don’t always have the luxury of morals, ethics and human emotions. As I said, it’s a cutthroat profession.
One day we were going for a walk on the beach. She giggled and said that the boyfriend had defaulted on a $120 million loan. I was aghast and pointed out that someone was going to have to absorb that loss. She giggled again and said that she was amazed that no one had come after them yet. (People can get pretty hot under the collar over $120 million.)
Something clicked. I’d been getting mail addressed to her boyfriend at my business. Suspicious, I looked up his company on the Florida corporations website.
He had listed my business address as his! Visions of scary people with weapons. or the FBI, or worse, crashing through my office door—over the $120 million–with guns drawn or blazing danced in my head. I’d seen not one penny of that money since I had no business ties to the couple.
I put a stop to that easily enough though. Every piece of mail that arrived I sent back with “no such person” or “addressee unknown”. That got the boyfriend in a lot of trouble. Probably people he was dodging were pretty unhappy to learn that he wasn’t where they thought he was.
Palm Beach mistresses can get ya in a lot of trouble too, if you’re not paying attention.
This woman thought she was a lot smarter than she really was. But she was like a Svengali with the boyfriend. She started taking over his business in fact, and began giving him financial advice. Of course she had no education, no knowledge of finance, economics or the industry he was in, but she thought she didn’t need it because she was just soooo smart.
She was smart enough to get him to sign over all his assets to her–as a hedge against losing all of them because of the aforementioned $120 million default. My advice to her was to leave him flat and cash out all his assets before he could move to recover them.
Then she got him to marry her. They had a nice little fleet of Mercedes vehicles in the driveway, expensive Persian rugs on the floor, fine art, a pool, and all the bells and whistles in the kitchen.
First he lost the Palm Beach mansion and they had to move to a golf community. Then he lost his business. Then he lost the house in the golf community to foreclosure.
Then the couple got a nicer home in another country club community in a town where no one knew them. How? The closing documents included an affidavit from the husband that, although he had the same name as the one on their previous mortgage, he was not the same person. I have little doubt about whose idea that was.
Now, the last I heard, she’s divorcing him. He’s broke, really old, and has reached the end of his access to money in any significant sums. She’s taken him for everything he had. It’s obviously time for her to find a new mark, uh, boyfriend or husband. She has to hurry though, because her looks are fading fast.
In all the time I knew her, she never had a job, never really worked a day in her life, had no money of her own other than the proceeds from the sale of her $68,000 condo on the mainland, and had no assets other than a beautiful face.
That was all she needed to live the high life in one of America’s most storied upscale communities for a long time. Even after that, when they had to move from Palm Beach because he’d lost the mansion under hazy circumstances, she still lived high on the hog.
She’s still got some assets though–the jewelry, whatever she managed to stash away from the husband and his partners, a Mercedes, and her cold, cold heart.