The Deal (3 page)

“How’s life in Siberia?”

“Oh Jonah, you owe it to yourself to get to Russia. Our country is truly beginning to thrive again. It’s such an exciting time.”

“No doubt that fares well for Prevkos—”

“I can’t complain. We’ve worked hard at positioning ourselves for the future.”

“Listen to you, you sound so serious,” I said. “It’s a bit frightening.”

“I am serious, Jonah. I have to be. If you don’t mind my asking, when did you become so easily frightened? You wouldn’t last one second in the Russian business world.”

“That’s a little more like it.”

“Seriously though, Jonah, it’s not like I’m the only one who’s been taking things seriously.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’ve been following your career. You’ve been putting together some pretty incredible deals.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Come on, you think Americans are the only ones on the Internet?”

“Point taken.”

“I’ve printed out all of the articles about your business conquests. And I must say, it looks like you are in a prime position to make a run at surpassing the real-estate legacy of your father. Which I must add would be no simple feat.”

This comment resonated with me. Love him or hate him, my father was a real-estate beast. I couldn’t help but feel complimented by the comparison.

“Easy there, Stalker,” I shot back. “Why the fuck you so interested anyway? I make tollbooth change compared to you.”

“It’s not about the money, Jonah. I keep up with you because it helps me feel connected. It’s like e-mailing without actually having to e-mail.”

I didn’t quite get the analogy. Still don’t.

“How’s your mother these days?” I asked.

“She’s terrific. Thanks for asking. Tell you what, I know it’s last minute, but why don’t you clear your schedule and we can talk over dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“I’m in New York, Jonah.”

I quietly motioned to Jake to close the door. Then I sat down.

“What are you talking about? You’re here?”

“I got into town last night.”

“Business, I take it.”

“As a matter of fact it is business. I came here to talk with you.”

“About what?”

“Let’s for now just say that my firm is looking to branch out in some new directions that concern your industry. It’s not that I desire to be so vague, but I’m not comfortable discussing the matter over phone lines so early in the process.”

“Fair enough.”

“I hate to impose, but I promise that it will be worth your while.”

I leaned forward and glanced at my Outlook schedule: Drinks with M. Tate were slated for that evening.

“I know you’re a busy man,” he continued, “but how often do I get to—”

I cut him off. A guy of Andreu Zhamovsky’s stature and influence is the type of individual you do your best not to disappoint.

“Don’t be silly. I’m looking at my schedule right now. I’m fine for tonight.”

“Excellent. That’s just great. I don’t want you to have to go to any trouble so I’ll pick the place and call you back this afternoon.”

“That’s fine. I’m actually going to be out of the office all afternoon so just leave word with my assistant, Carolyn. I’ll tell her to expect your call.”

A few seconds later I hit the speaker button again and he was gone. Jake and I blankly stared at one another.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked.

“I have no idea. Is Carolyn in yet?”

Carolyn was often in extra early — something I rewarded her generously for at the end of each year. She did this for me because she knew it helped me to organize my day.

“I think I just saw her walk by, toward her desk.”

I hit speaker and dialed Carolyn’s extension.

“Good morning, Jonah.”

“Good morning, sunshine. I need you to call Tate’s office for me. I need you to let him know that I can’t meet him this evening. And when you can, check Perry’s, Jake’s, and Tommy’s schedules for me. I need them all to be free and clear first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I already see that Perry has an eight o’clock breakfast with Jerry Winkler.”

“Reschedule it. I have a feeling we’re going to need a closed-door session.”

Chapter 5

At 8:15
p.m.
I walked into Sushi Samba on Park South, between 20th and 21st. The place was a bit passé, but I figured I’d give my foreign friend a break. Anyway, the joint was packed.

“May I help you this evening?”

“Jonah Gray. There’s going to be two of us tonight. Has—”

The hostess cut me off.

“Of course, Mr. Gray. The rest of your party is having a drink at the back bar.”

My eyes made their way past the centrally located sushi bar all the way to a small gathering at the back of the room. The wet bar unfortunately consisted of only five stools with thirty-five young hotshots looking to get a drink. Andreu was waving to me. He was sitting on the first stool in what seemed to be the exact farthest point away from me in the entire restaurant.

The space was colorful. Shades of orange and red were the cornerstone of the décor, a dance of Far Eastern and South American culture. Waiters floated around with ice blue, pink, and crystal clear drinks on trays, which became tiny prisms as the room’s light energetically raced through them. Wooden planks with colorful pieces of fresh fish were scattered throughout. A wide, thin chandelier of smoked glass bubbles covered the ceiling.

I carved a path through the crowd. When I almost reached the bar, Andreu stood up. Someone unaware of my approach stood in my way.

“Please, excuse my friend here—Excuse him, please.”

Andreu immediately began shooing the guy aside.

“Please, don’t you know who this is?” he said.

All of a sudden, all eyes were on me.

“You’ll have to excuse my friend,” I said jokingly to the small crowd. “He’s from out of town.”

“I may be from out of town,” he continued in his Russian accent, “but you must not be as famous as I’ve been told. It doesn’t seem like anyone recognizes you.”

“Then they must not read the business section very often.”

We laughed. Then, we hugged.

“You look great,” Andreu said. “What are you drinking?”

We had the bartender’s attention, so I ordered straight away.

“Sapphire and tonic. Three olives.”

“Still with the gin, I see.”

“How about you, little girl? What are you going with, Kir Royale? Like some little topless model running around St. Tropez?”

Andreu looked good. He was, as always, clad in European fashion. He wore a navy Versace suit with a lime green ETRO shirt, no tie. His skin was tanned. His brown hair was getting long, yet he wore it sort of messy a la Hugh Grant.

“Fuck you, my friend. Bourbon tonight, a man’s drink.”

Andreu took a long swallow of the rust-colored liquid that filled his glass.

“Really, though, it’s good to see you,” he continued.

“It’s nice to see you too. You seem...content.”

“I am content, Jonah. Things have been great.”

“I imagine they have. From the looks of you, all day is spent lying in the sun.”

“I was just in Antalya.”

Antalya is a Turkish ocean-side resort town.

“I’m allowed holiday, aren’t I?” Andreu asked innocently.

The bartender placed my cocktail in front of me. I picked it up and we clinked glasses.

“Anyway, sounds like you’re working hard enough for both of us. You’ve become a superstar.”

“You get fired by your board of directors or something? You looking to land a job as my publicist?”

“You’ve always known what you want, Jonah. I have always admired that.”

“Seriously, do you owe me money or something? Or did you really just come all this way to kiss my ass?”

He started laughing.

“I remember you saying it to me, man.”

My expression became serious. This comment confused me.

“You remember me saying what?”

“It was the summer between your two years of business school when you and your father met us in Antibes. It was a few years before my father died. We were sitting by the pool at the Hotel Du Cap, overlooking the Mediterranean. You had just been talking to some gorgeous blond girl in a white bikini. When she excused herself you took a sip of your Domaines Ott and closed your eyes, putting your face right in the sun’s rays.”

“The detail here is a bit eerie, my friend,” I said jokingly. “Have you been noticing me from afar or some shit like that?”

“Shut up, won’t you? Anyway, that was when you said to me the strangest thing. You go, eyes still closed as you faced the sky, ‘I need to get back to school!’ ”

“I said that?”

“You said that. And I remember thinking to myself, ‘How the fuck can this guy be thinking about school at a time like this?’ So, I asked you. I said, ‘Why the fuck would you want to be back in school right now?’ ”

“Yeah? What’d I say?”

“That the sooner you could get back to school, the closer you would be to taking New York City as your own.”

I thought for a moment.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I definitely could have said that.”

“I know you, Jonah. I know that even though you come from cash you had dreams you wanted to fulfill on your own. How does that feel?”

“You must need something from me. Is that why you’re in Manhattan?”

“You’re damn right. I do need something from you. I promise you, you’re going to love me for it!”

We were seated in the corner of the dining room at the most secluded table available. Immediately, the waiter approached us and we ordered another round of drinks. As I glanced around, I noticed what a varied bunch we were amongst. At the sushi bar was a fifty-something Italian looking guy with slicked-back hair and way too many rings on his thick fingers. He was wearing jeans, a white button-down, and some type of black leather vest. With him was a physically gifted black woman, who must have been almost six feet tall, sporting a shaved head. She too was in jeans, and a lavender button-down shirt open to her navel as her large chest basically jumped out of her bra. Two tables down from us was a group of four—two couples. The two girls were playing games under the table while the two guys were doing the same. I pointed.

“New York City in the summer. I love it.” Andreu exclaimed.

“How’s your mother? Still at it with the art?”

“Every day. And your father? Still scaring the shit out of everyone?”

“Every day.”

We laughed again.

“She still as interested in the company as she used to be?”

“Nah. Once my father died she went from art and Prevkos to just art.”

“How about you? Tell me about the natural gas business.”

“Ahhh, Jonah, all we have done over the years is grow and grow. We are as big as we have ever been. Not to mention the...how do Americans say...perks for running a company so vital to our country’s success. I’m Mr. Worldwide. More access to people and places than Putin!”

“I do my own reading from time to time about you and Prevkos. You seemed, I don’t know, so casual about everything when you took over for your father. I never doubted your intelligence but you were so young for such a huge role that I can’t help saying I was concerned. I’m happy to realize that I didn’t need to be. Your father would be pleased with the job you’ve done.”

Andreu appreciatively tipped his near-empty glass, and then the waiter appeared with our fresh drinks. He told us the specials. We, in turn, told him we needed a few more minutes to decide.

“Who you dating, these days? Or should I ask first how many there are?” Andreu went on.

“Please, as if you’re not the future poster boy for bigamy.”

Andreu clutched a fistful of the shirt covering his chest and hunched forward over the table.

“Ouch, right into my heart. Please, stop twisting.”

“Being serious here for a moment, Andreu. What really brings you to New York?”

Andreu took a sip of his drink.

“Were you surprised to hear from me this morning?”

“You might say that.”

“I’m here because Prevkos has decided to expand their business.”

“How so?”

“We’ve been having serious internal discussions over the last six months or so, and we want to get involved here in the United States.”

“In the natural gas business.”

“Not exactly.”

“Then I’m not sure I follow you.”

At that moment the waiter appeared.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Sure,” Andreu said.

We quickly grabbed the menus and scanned.

Andreu continued, “I’ll start with a spicy tuna roll and a green salad. Then I’ll go with the filet mignon cooked rare. Tell me about the sauce it comes in. Spicy?”

“Quite. It’s a Brazilian—”

“Good then, that’ll be fine. The spicier the better.”

The waiter was without pen and paper, as all good New York City waiters are.

“And for you, sir?”

“I’ll start with the blue-corn crusted calamari, followed by the Arctic Char in the tomato salsa.”

“Very good, gentlemen.”

The waiter walked away.

“Like I was saying, I’m not following you.”

“Real estate, Jonah. We are looking to get involved in buildings.”

“Excuse me?”

I looked at Andreu as if he were kidding.

“What do you mean get involved with buildings?”

“What the fuck do you think I mean? We want to buy some buildings. An entire portfolio perhaps.”

“Oh, an entire portfolio perhaps? Listen to you. Andreu, you guys don’t know the first thing about real estate in this city.”

“But you do. And we understand good business. It’s no secret what has happened to the real estate market over the last couple of years, especially since 9/11. We feel there are definitely valuable opportunities out there and we want to invest in something solid. Something we truly feel will grow in value over the course of the next generation.”

“Very nice. Capitalize on my country’s misery.”

“Don’t be a dickhead,” Andreu said, acknowledging my twisting of his words. “It’s part of our diversification and risk disbursement strategy for the future. There are too many growing threats in both the physical and economical climates surrounding the world’s natural gas environment for us not to get involved with other industries. It’s a simple situation of trying to throw off some risk.”