The Deal (6 page)

“Jake,” Tommy jumped in, “I’ll handle the Seven Eighty-nine Seventh Avenue closing this afternoon by myself. This way you can get started also.”

“Not a problem, Tommy.”

“Don’t kid yourselves,” Tommy went on, reminding us, “these three upcoming weeks are going to be a motherfucker. You’re going to need every second you can get.”

We all nodded.

“Now, any ideas for exactly how we should proceed since we have three weeks to come up with the perfect, half a billion dollar block of property for these people?”

“Absolutely!” said Perry, without hesitation.

I sat back down.

She continued, “We all have a very good idea as to the pulse of the market right now, and we all know exactly where the owners’ minds tend to be. Not just owners as a whole, but many owners individually. Each of us takes the next twenty-four hours to come up with the ideal, feasible possibility that’s out there. Something that with the right offer, and some solid massaging, is in your mind at least eighty-five percent viable. Something that combines the right piece of valuable space with the right ownership who, given the right circumstances, would be more than happy to sell.”

Perry was sharp. She was right on.

“Given the time frame, it has to be at least eighty-five percent possible. Twenty-four hours. We compare what each of us has come up with.”

“I’ll handle what I can with all of your other deals,” continued Tommy.

“Captain?” I asked, puzzled.

Tommy’s basically semiretired. He’s put a lot of hard years in, and has earned the right to just supervise us and collect cash accordingly. Every once in a while he’s needed to push a deal past the finish line, but not so often anymore. The fact he was willing to get back in the trenches to help pick up the slack spoke volumes.

“I’m pretty clear on what stage each of your deals are at, and I’ll handle as much as I can. Get me all appropriate contacts: opposing counsel and brokers, vendors, consultants, everyone. Then give me all of the current leases with the final term sheets.”

A term sheet simply highlights the most important negotiated items in a lease. It’s a nice tool for double-checking attorneys’ work.

“Give me floor plans, financial analyses, whatever you think I may need. Any objections?”

There were none. How could there be?

Chapter 7

12:55
p.m.

Perry and I were in Au Bon Pain, on East 43rd Street, having lunch. She was sipping her lemonade through a straw as her eyes stared at something behind me. I was eating a tuna wrap.

“What’s going on, Per?”

Without moving her head she brought her eyes back to mine.

“What are you staring at?”

She took her lips from the straw, leaving a bit of her lipstick on its tip.

“That little girl back there. Sitting with her mother.”

I turned around. There was an adorable little blond girl, wearing a pink dress and a white bow in her hair, sitting at a small table with her mom. She was more interested in the chocolate chip cookie on the table than the sandwich her mother was trying to get her to eat. When I turned back around Perry had returned to her lemonade.

“Cute little kid,” I said.

Perry was quiet. Her gaze had returned to the child. I was getting annoyed.

“Perry, seriously, do you want to talk about what’s going on or do you want to stare at the little girl all afternoon?”

Perry became angry.

“Can you not be such a fucking dick? God, I can’t take one moment to myself to look at a child without you feeling as though this means the big Prevkos deal doesn’t mean shit to me?”

Then the sarcasm.

“Don’t worry, Jonah. I promise not to let you down.”

Like I said, Perry and I are close. Which at times like this means I unfortunately get to see a side of her that no one else in our professional lives even knows exists. The Perry that has so much trapped inside, so many personal demons she struggles with each day, just as we all do. They all just see organized, simple, intelligent, and conservative Perry. Even Tommy and Jake. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all close too. But for some reason Perry has always felt comfortable and I guess safe opening up more to me.

“I see an open table by the window. Maybe I’ll just pick myself up and—”

The right corner of her mouth turned up ever so slightly.

“— you know, since I must be such a prick.”

“Stop it, Jonah. I know, I’m sorry. I’m being a bit crazy.”

I put my sandwich down and took a sip of iced tea. I leaned back comfortably, enjoying one of the only times I get to relax, even for just a few minutes, each day.

Perry continued, “It’s just that, you know—”

“What?”

“I just wish I could go back and be five again. Like that cute girl over there. Even just for one day.”

“Yeah? I don’t think I would. Life at that age is entirely based on counting on everyone else for anything you want or need. Half the fun of getting older is you get to learn about all of the things you had been sheltered from. And, unfortunately, a lot of those things turn out to be some of the best parts of life.”

We both chuckled.

“Seriously though, Jonah. When you’re that young it is so much easier to be happy all the time.”

She was looking at the girl again.

“During the summer, when we were kids, I remember Ryan and I used to take anything we could find in the fridge and make it into a popsicle.”

Ryan is her younger sister who lives in Seattle.

“Orange juice, lemonade, grapefruit juice, you name it. We’d just pour it into a Dixie Cup and throw in toothpicks or plastic spoons or whatever we could find. There was nothing like going back to the freezer a couple hours later to get them. We were so excited. We’d just tear the cup off in one continuous swirl and there they were. We’d take them outside and race to eat them before they melted.”

“Wow. Sounds great.”

She looked at me with an expression that acknowledged the validity of my returned sarcasm. She had asked for it.

“No, really, especially the part about the toothpicks. It must have been crazy fun trying to hold those big, oblong popsicles on those wimpy little sticks. Let me guess—when you two were feeling really slick, you went for some iced tea. Maybe cranberry juice. And you even threw in a bit of vodka for good measure. Which, unfortunately, made them take a little longer to freeze.”

Perry threw her napkin at me.

“You know what I’m saying, Jonah!”

“Yeah, I do,” I conceded.

We sat for a moment in silence. I leaned forward over the table on my elbows.

“What’s going on with you today, Perry?”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you haven’t made one mention of the deal we just had dropped in our laps. Potentially one of the biggest deals of our careers. Or maybe it’s all this talk about popsicles and plastic spoons?”

She didn’t respond. I leaned back again in my chair.

“I know you, Perry. You get excited by the challenge of a new deal no matter what size it is. You usually won’t shut the fuck up about it for the first three days. Your strategizing, your constant brainstorming and thinking out loud—we usually have to throw you out of our offices. In walks the deal we’ve all talked about so many times and you don’t say one thing about it. Not one thing.”

Her eyes fell to her lap for a split second before she consciously raised them back up.

“I think he’s doing it again.”

She was referring to her gynecologist husband, Brian. A year and a half earlier, when she was pregnant with their kid, she found out the dirty bastard had been cheating on her. Not only is he a scumbag, but he’s not the smartest guy either. She had a sense it was going on, but he really got busted when Perry’s best friend walked into Peter Luger’s only to find the moron all over one of his patients at a corner table, the two of them dripping adultery onto their shared porterhouse steaks. During his “coming clean” to Perry, he admitted going to the legendary New York Steakhouse because it was in Brooklyn, out of the way of their mainstream lives. I’m sorry, did someone forget to mention to this guy that if you put Peter Luger’s in Dallas, it would still be the most popular restaurant in New York City?

“Who?” I said innocently.

She rolled her eyes.

“Per, what makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I just have this feeling. And it absolutely pisses me off.”

“That you feel paranoid all the time?”

“No. Well, yeah, but I was thinking more along the lines of the fact that I ever allowed him to stay.”

This was the only truly weak thing Perry could ever recall doing. Keeping Brian around. And it tormented her, knowing that she had to give up so much of her pride in order to at least give her child the chance of growing up with a father. She hated him for putting her in that position. She loathed him for playing the father-figure card as he groveled. Almost as much as she hated the fact her father-in law, as she learned post-marriage, was a childhood friend of a certain figurehead of a family in the waste management business.

For a while it had seemed things had gotten back pretty close to normal. I was a bit surprised by all of this.

“Well, there must be something that would make you think so?”

“It’s just the way he acts. It’s—I don’t know.”

“Perry, do you have any concrete evidence about this?”

She thought for a second. Perhaps even looking for something she could reference as a stretch.

“Uh-uh. No.”

“Then I really think you need to give him the benefit of the doubt here, at least for the time being. I mean after all, it was you who allowed him to remain in your life.”

Yes, I was being a good friend. But equally important, I needed her to get past this for now. Quickly. There was work to be done.

“Am I wrong?”

“No. I know, I’m probably just acting crazy. But it’s just this sense I have. I know when he’s not acting like himself, when he’s up to something.”

“Perry, why make yourself nuts like this? You two have been through a lot in a short amount of time. I imagine you’re not always exactly the same person he married either.”

She looked at me sharply.

“Again, am I wrong?”

She grabbed her lemonade and took a long sip.

“I guess not. You may be right.”

Manipulating her in a way I often used to with people, almost as a personal challenge, I could feel it. She was ready to talk business. Which brought me to my next challenge, the game at hand for approximately the next twenty-four hours. Until the next morning in Tommy’s office, it was Perry, Jake, and I against one another in coming up with the perfect prospect. Why was I looking at it as a game? Because I knew Perry and Jake were also. We all love outdoing one another. We all appreciate the fact that it is this type of friendly, competitive behavior that always brings out our best. As much as we all love to impress Tommy, we love to impress one another.

“So, any ideas about who may fit the bill?”

“Absolutely.”

“Let’s hear it?”

“I don’t think so, Jonah. I think it’s best if we all stay on our own until tomorrow morning.”

“Why? Let’s get a jump on some strategy.”

Perry laughed.

“Please, I know you Jonah. You probably worked on this last night, even though we hadn’t talked about it, and already think you’re the only one to have it figured out. So you think, I must add.”

“So I think?”

“That’s right, smart ass. It would be foolish of you to think that no matter what’s on my mind, I’m not focused here. I knew who our top prospect in Manhattan was for this type of deal the moment you laid it all out on the table.”

“Is that so?”

“Damn right. My mind may be doing some serious juggling right now, but that doesn’t mean I’d let anything get in the way of a deal like this.”

It was nice to know her killer instinct was intact no matter how torn up she was inside. I was sure Perry was dead serious when she implied she had thought of the perfect prospect.

Chapter 8

At 7:30
p.m
. I met my father at Harry Cipriani, a tiny, East Side Venetian power spot in the Sherry Netherland Hotel, for a drink. I was meeting some friends on the Upper East Side for dinner a bit later, so figured I had some time to catch up with Pop. We sat at the bar amid the diamond-dripping, air-kissing clientele. He had already placed our order with Sonny. I had a Sapphire and tonic coming while he went with his usual Jameson on the rocks.

Our drinks were placed down in front of us. My father took one look at his, pointed his finger at it and called to the bartender.

“Sonny.”

The barkeep swung his eyes back to us.

“Sonny, what the fuck is this? How about pouring me a little booze over this ice?”

Sonny picked up the drink.

“Of course, Mr. Gray. I’m terribly—”

“Get us some fried zucchini out here also. I haven’t eaten a goddamn thing all day.”

“Of course,” Sonny cowered, “right away.”

Pop returned his attention to me.

“Fucking crooked—”

Without asking he reached out and adjusted my necktie. I checked out the vintage Omega Seamaster on his wrist as he did.

“You ever going to let me try that watch on?”

Pop smirked. It was the only one from his collection I’d never touched. The truth is, after so many years of asking, it wasn’t the watch I was interested in anymore. It was if he’d say yes. As usual, he changed directions.

“What did Andreu say when you accepted?”

“That he knew I would. He said he’s been following my career and that my track record shows I’m up for the challenge.”

“They’ve been looking to do something like this for a long time?”

“According to Andreu they’ve been shaping their new risk-management strategy for a while. Overseas real estate is just going to be one of the pieces.”

“Sounds like they’re looking to make a powerhouse of a deal, Jonah. You just make sure you do whatever it takes to get them what they want. And don’t fuck this up. A company as big as Prevkos only gives you one bite of the apple, no matter who you are. Remember that.”