The Deal (19 page)

Pop walked me to the front door.

“You look like shit. Why don’t you hunker down in your old bedroom for a few hours and sleep it off.”

“Andreu’s got me on a tight leash. I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m ever going to put this deal together.”

“You ever going to tell me the full scope of what you’ve got for him?”

Why not, I decided. Archmont’s boy had agreed to meet with me, which meant the buildings were in play. Give the old man something to help him fall back asleep.

“Four Ninety and Four Ninety-five Madison. Lloyd Murdoch couldn’t keep up because of some problems he’s having. The bank took them back as R.E.O. properties after keeping their foreclosure status under wraps. Apparently Murdoch found some new money partners then let them swing back to Gallo thinking, after making sure the bank was whole, he would just purchase them again for prices that reflect this market. I’m thinking he had already made a deal before he even defaulted.”

“You’re going to steal them out from under him?” Pop deduced.

I winked.

“Slimy fucker deserves it,” he went on. “I like it. But he’s as much brains as he is asshole, Jonah. He’s a smart man with the resources and guts for a good fight. It could get thorny so you need to move on him from the opening bell. You need to trust your
reactionary instincts, let them guide you. There’ll be time for cleaning—”

“— Up the mess later,” I finished up. “I know, Pop.”

“You’re one hundred percent sure the buildings are within reach?”

“Perry and Jake have each come up with equally attractive scenarios. Because of the time constraints Prevkos has put us under we’re working each deal as if it is the only one. We want each principal to engage with us as if they’re negotiating with themselves, not each other. Once we’ve got our diamond, we simply discard the rocks.”

“Can be a dangerous game, Jonah.”

“Yes, it can. But not if the three potential prospects never get wind of each other.”

“Who are the others?”

“Cantrol Petroleum and the Slevin clan.”

“All heavy hitters. Just be careful here. Any of these people get wind of the fact you’re playing with them, you could find yourself neck deep in—”

“Pop,” I cut him off, looking at my watch. “Too early for anything that even approaches a lecture. Besides, haven’t I made the right decisions so far in getting where I am?”

“And where’s that, big shot? You let that kind of mentality stick around, you keep looking down at the ground from your little nest instead of looking up at the rest of the tree, you’ll be knocked off faster than you can say ‘has-been’.”

“You’re right, Pop,” I agreed. “You know what I’m saying; I’m just tired.”

Pop put his hand on my cheek, sighed, and gave me a gentle, affectionate pat.

“You’re a good kid,” he said.

Then he turned and headed for the stairs.

“Now try and get yourself some sleep. Sounds like you’re going to need it.”

Chapter 21

Neo and I took in daybreak on the terrace. It was a beautiful summer morning, not a white trace in the sky. Having simply tossed a couple of the donuts to make room in the box, I couldn’t remember the last thing I had eaten, but I wasn’t hungry. I hadn’t slept, but I wasn’t tired because I wouldn’t allow myself to be. I simply had too many uncertainties circling. My laptop was open and files were everywhere. I was doing everything to keep my head in the real estate game, in the deal. Neo was curled up in my lap, twitching every so often as REM sleep took over.

I couldn’t understand why no one had come looking for the egg. Frankly, it was making me uneasy because it just didn’t seem possible. Had Robie or Hart or whoever the fuck he was, dumped it off on the wrong person? Was this even plausible? Had the authorities taken him into custody? Was he acting alone, which would mean I was the only one who knew the item’s whereabouts? No way. A work of art like this doesn’t get lifted by some poor schmuck who miscalculated. There had to be more, but I couldn’t put my finger on any of it. All I knew was that the more I looked over my shoulder, the more I realized I was alone. Eerily alone.

I looked at Neo, envious of such innocence, and took in every whisker on his adorable face, every slow expansion of his breathing stomach. Something then occurred to me sending an unexpected jolt of reassurance, comfort through my veins. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t plotted, schemed or planned any of this. I hadn’t stolen anything.

I heard a ping. I looked at my laptop. Outlook had put up a reminder on the screen. It read, “Bungalow 8. Pinner’s Bash. 11
p.m.
” Paul “Pinner” Luckman was L’s pin-thin younger brother. He had snubbed the family business, but the two were close. “He’s too smart for meat,” L always said. Pinner had been an aspiring writer since we were kids and now his first novel was being published. The bash, being thrown by his publishing house, was to celebrate the book’s release. Everything had gotten so crazy during the last week that I had completely forgotten about it. One thing was for sure. L would have killed me had I missed it.

11:45
p.m.

After a quick “what’s up?” to Teddy, the bouncer, I headed inside Bungalow 8. Immediately, the jungle vibe enveloped me, and I dove in to the sea of hot women and top-shelf liquor. The lighting, purposely tricky, gave way to sexy shading and intriguing, inviting perspectives. Actresses and Page Six regulars were scattered about. I could feel eyes licking me, but not in an unusual way. I surveyed the area, and before even looking for Paul went straight to the bar located in the back of the space, giving the entire span of the lounge a good once-over. When I was satisfied, I went through the plan in my mind one last time. Say “hi” to Pinner, have a couple drinks, blame work, and get the fuck out.

I found L’s brother seated at one of the tables lining the room’s margins.

“Jonah,” he yelled, jumping up from the huge couch that appeared to be swallowing him, extending his hand, and pulling me in for a “guy” hug. “I fucking knew you’d make it.”

“Look at you, Mr. Goddamn Writer Man.”

“Please. This business sucks. This publishing house is so fucking nervous right now about taking a chance on me. The last time they—”

We continued to chat for a few minutes. I went on telling him what an accomplishment this was, though I couldn’t help laughing inside at the fact I probably made in an hour what he made in a year. All the while I let my eyes casually drift around the room. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw L.

After a few more minutes congratulating Pinner, L and I headed to the bar. We got a fresh round of drinks.

“What’s doing? I’ve barely spoken to you since I saw you the other night.”

“I know it. My fault, it’s this deal I’m working on.”

Keep it loose, real. Act normal.

“I haven’t even been able to see any of my women.”

“I’ll bet you run into a few of them here,” L responded.

He wasn’t kidding. Definitely a possibility.

“I imagine, knowing you, the deal’s going great. Am I right?”

“I don’t know about great, but it’s definitely going.”

My phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Unavailable number. I didn’t answer it.

“You’re not taking a call? That’s a first.”

“I was in the Hamptons Thursday night for this wedding, and—”

“You were where?”

“Don’t ask. Anyway I end up meeting the hottest, most seemingly unbelievable girl, getting wasted, and having unreal sex with her in one of the upstairs bathrooms. Crazy.”

“And that was her?”

“I’m not sure, but I think so. I can’t see her number. She’s been calling all day.”

I wasn’t kidding. My phone hadn’t stopped ringing since around noon.

“And, I’m sorry, what was the reason again that you’re not getting that on the first ring and inviting her over?”

I noticed someone looking at me. It was some guy who looked about my age, sitting at a table with another guy and a few girls. He was dressed in a navy, three-button suit, but something wasn’t right. He looked strangely out of place. If there’s one thing I know it’s suits, and his wasn’t exactly befitting of Bungalow 8 clientele. The cut, the fabric, it was all too—cheap. Once I looked in his direction, he slowly turned away and rejoined his conversation. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but something about him was familiar.

“Turns out she may be just a wee bit psycho.”

“Ah. The lovely psycho. Let’s have another shot,” L suggested.

“Why not.”

We threw down another Patron. I continued on in conversation, although everything had perhaps changed. I could feel my senses sharpen, get angry. Was it possible someone was not only tailing me, but watching me from such close proximity? When I found an appropriate opening I looked again for the same guy. Though I couldn’t be 100 percent sure, again it seemed like he was watching me. Our eyes locked for a millisecond then he joined in with his table.

I wanted to be pissed. I wanted to walk right up to the guy and shake whatever truth may have pertained to me right out of him. But I couldn’t. Not that night. If I was right, if this seemingly ordinary guy was in fact on my tail, I was in even more trouble than I knew. He was a huge question mark, and possibly an even greater exclamation point, all wrapped up in one.

“I’m gonna break in a few minutes. I shouldn’t have even come out for this, but I didn’t want to disappoint your brother.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Jonah, it’s Saturday night. Since when can’t you party till five in the morning and still get the deal closed?”

Since never. But, unfortunately, this wasn’t only about the deal any more.

“Please, save it. Peer pressure isn’t exactly the way to go with me. Anyway I’m going home to work. I’ll be hammering away through the night.”

Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Jonah Gray?”

It was a tall, knockout brunette whom I had never seen before. My defenses immediately kicked in.

“Perhaps. You are?”

“Jordan Ross. I’m a broker with Penchill Group. I don’t mean to be so queer, but I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ve read a number of articles about your team. You guys really do some great work.”

“Thank you,” I said, eyes hunting.

“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked.

“Actually, Jordan, you caught me almost on my way out. But hopefully we’ll run into one another again soon.”

“Oh, well.”

“Say hi to Ronnie Winger for me,” I continued, referring to the CEO of her firm as I turned away.

Jordan, bruised ego and all, moved on. L was staring at me as if my face had just blown up.

“What in God’s name is the matter with you? Did you, for some reason, not see how hot that girl was? That girl who just offered to buy you a drink, which, by the way, has still never happened to me once?”

“I’ve got to get going.”

“Jonah, is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Since you need to be up all night, at least share a bump with me in the john.”

“No thanks.”

“Then tell me all about the psycho girl.”

She was the least of my problems.

“Tell you what,” I responded. “Let’s go for that bump.”

The line for the individual, unisex bathrooms wasn’t too long. Once inside, L turned on the water, pulled a small, brown glass vial from his pants, and unscrewed the top. He then grabbed a tiny, Lilliputian-sized spoon from the same pocket and jammed it into the tiny jar. In one quick motion, L took a healthy scoop of the fine, happy white powder and held it under my left nostril. Using my finger I closed my right nostril and inhaled. The quick blast shot through my nasal canal, leaving behind its sweet, synthetic taste before settling in the back of my now-numb throat. L followed suit with a couple of his own quick shots to the brain.

“So I’m on the phone with my annoying mother yesterday, and for a change I’m not paying attention. She tells me she wants the whole family to have dinner next week. Like I’m talking to you or something, I blurt out ‘go fuck yourself.’ ”

We both cracked up.

“Quick,” L shifted gears, “best cab driver name you’ve ever seen.”

I realize now that L was never a good influence when it came to my drug usage. But as I stood there, staring at him in a funk, I realized that times like these were one of the biggest reasons I was so grateful for him. He was always able to get me to laugh or smile at the times I needed it most.

“Baljinder Fingjammer,” I responded, zero hesitation.

“Please, I’ve seen a million of those. Baljinder, Sukwinder—that’s nothing compared to what I saw today—”

L, enjoying the drama, stopped short.

“Which was?”

“Suchinct Pratoomtang. Fucking Pratoomtang! And he was singing Elton John, turban and all, at the top of his lungs. Where do these fucking guys come from?”

“Very nice,” I sliced into him as I checked my nose in the mirror. “You’re a modern day Archie Fucking Bunker.”

“What’s the deal with the turbans anyway? I mean, are there nice turbans and not-so-nice turbans? Can one Muslim walking down the street take a quick look at another Muslim’s turban and be like, ‘I used to know that guy. He must not be doing very well.’ ”

L turned off the faucet and we exited the bathroom to a couple curious stares. As we reentered the bumping belly of the club, we stopped at the bar at my suggestion for one final shot. I needed one last chance to evaluate the guy possibly tailing me. Two more shots of Patron were immediately placed on the bar. I slammed one down then took one more subtle look at my target. Sure enough, there it was. He started to look in my direction, only to be surprised by the fact that my eyes were already locked in. He awkwardly immersed himself into his table’s conversation.

Then came the shockwave as I realized why this guy seemed familiar. He was sitting next to us the previous night in Pangaea. I remember because someone at his table knocked a drink over and we all looked over at the commotion.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Fine. Just promise to get this deal wrapped up ASAP. I need our partying schedule to get back on track.”

I looked at L. He winked.