The Devil's Analyst (6 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Party Time

Josh hired valets
for the evening gala. Because it was a big night for the company, he wanted everything to go smoothly. The red-jacketed boys were quick to take the keys from the arriving drivers, speed out of the circular drive, stash the cars, and dash back to await the next expensive car to experience.

Tonight was more than important; it was a turning point. The house would be filled with heavy hitters who might make a real difference in the forthcoming success of Premios. Josh knew you had to play the part to be the part, and, by god, Josh was determined to give an Academy Award winning performance tonight. He yearned to be a player in this world of new media, and he was sparing no expense to prove it. Appearances mattered: the lighting, the flowers, the music on the terrace, the best valet company in town—it proclaimed that Premios was a company on the rise. If you portrayed it, it would become true. After all, this was Hollywood.

The starting point was the right collection of guests. Josh hadn’t hesitated to trade on the notoriety of the mansion’s past to attract certain celebrity types. He added an up-and-coming sleight of hand magician from the Magic Castle to provide a close-up show. (Josh convinced him to do it for free just because the guy was so excited to be working in the old director’s secret lair. It always paid to turn people on, but to do that one had to know their hot buttons.)

Some of his decisions for the evening might not turn out to be the best. For example, he let Danny convince him to hire Wally and Stephen to cater the party. Even though they were old friends and he was a part owner of their café, they had fallen off the cutting edge. If he were honest with himself, he knew the pair’s small chain of restaurants was nearing its end of life and he should find a way to cut his ties. But the two chefs had a certain fan base from their low-rated show on that cooking channel—plus they would bring along their good friend, Francesca Petroff. She was the restaurant reviewer for the
Los Angeles Dispatch
, known as much for her perky and feisty persona as her prose. That was the kind of talent Premios needed to foster. Premios users wanted more than the recommendations of fellow users; they demanded the acerbic approvals of authorities. Even if Francesca wasn’t yet a signed contributor to their editorial content, guests could be forgiven if they assumed otherwise. A party was like a house of cards, each person supporting another, building a buzz that made everyone think they were having a good time—whether they were or not. In the end, true feelings didn’t matter. Given the right elements, everything seemed important and therefore unforgettable.

Danny just couldn’t master this calculus of promotion; it would be a miracle if he could even feign interest. Josh loved the guy, but he could never understand why Danny became so obsessive over minor things. Like their flap earlier in the week over Jesus Lopez. That would have been prevented if Orleans hadn’t tried to cover up Josh’s meeting with Jesus. Everyone knew that Danny didn’t like the professor, but Josh wanted Jesus at this party and at Premios. Jesus was like Francesca—another link in the chain of energy. Everyone understood how Jesus’s writing program could be a great way to identify early new writing talent. Investors wanted to see just that kind of edgy people associated with Premios. Even better, Jesus’s latest novel was being seriously shopped around Hollywood for a major picture deal. Jesus had clout and he could draw in more of the Hollywood crowd. After all, Premios wasn’t just an information site about restaurants and entertainment or a referral site for reservations and shopping. Josh was shaping it into the destination for those in the know.

He needed this party to bring some of that buzz, and he was counting on Kenosha and her connections to do their magic. The game plan was simple: deliberately mingling different worlds, while engaging people that could generate gossip for the Internet crowd and the old-line press

What Danny didn’t understand was that you didn’t need to worry about whether you liked your guests. Earlier in the evening Danny finally bothered to review the guest list, and he had a fit. Even though he knew it was a business event and had made his recent resolution to be more involved, he hadn’t bothered to prep to host the event. Danny was a Premios star too and Josh needed him to play his A-game tonight, but Josh’s prediction for this evening was that Danny would try to seclude himself in the kitchen with Wally, Stephen, Francesca and the catering staff. But he would lure them out if for no other reason than Jesus wanted to talk to Danny tonight.

A new car arrived
, and Josh smiled in satisfaction. It had happened—the arrival of a much-sought-after guest—Barbara Linsky, the star of his evening. Surprisingly, it was the promised presence of Francesca Petroff that had lured Linsky. Who would guess that a tired old tech guru like Linsky would be infatuated with food? It always paid to know those hidden hankerings.

Linsky was a goddess to venture capitalists and the tech press. Ever since her advisory firm, Barbara Linsky, Incorporated, started the BLINK conferences four years ago, her star had risen higher and higher. Each September, her annual conference in Boston attracted nearly two thousand of the country’s most influential minds. Attendance was by invitation only, and few turned down the opportunity to attend (although their motivation might tilt more toward mingling with the influential guests than being inspired by thought-provoking lectures). People with an agenda would kill for an invitation to speak. And Barbara was here tonight, and he had all evening to work his magic.

When his primary investor Colby Endicott heard about Linsky’s attendance, the man went crazy. Frankly, Josh found Colby a third-rate hanger-on when it came to the tech investment community. But he had inherited money and the right kind of friends. Knowing the money man wouldn’t ask too many questions, Josh persuaded Colby early on to bring big money into Premios. Truth was, with the proceeds from the sale of
InnerEatz
to AOL, Danny and Josh could have funded the first and second stages of financing themselves. But why put their money at risk? Josh believed in letting others share that excitement.

Admittedly there was more to getting an outside investor involved than playing it safe. Over the years, Danny had given Josh a lot of himself, and that had made Josh’s life fuller and more meaningful. He shouldn’t risk Danny’s share of money on something that was really Josh’s dream. He owed Danny more than that.

God, success was so tantalizingly close. Internet companies were going public left and right at huge valuations and making their founders rich beyond sensibility. Who could say what something was worth in this new world? Maybe some claimed it was all a bubble, but bubbles could float high and far. One just had to escape the bubble before it burst.

Tonight he had gathered everything needed to fan a little hot air that would raise the Premios bubble ever so gently, ever so higher. Financiers like Colby, analysts like Barbara, celebrities like Jesus and Francesca—just tinder to his fire of expansion.

Standing on the small musician’s balcony that bridged a view of the entry and the large living room, Josh realized he had removed himself too long from the main action of the party in the room below. In the original architectural plans filed with the city, the living room was labeled a ballroom. Whatever its function, tonight it was aglow with people and stemware. It was time to join them. As he reached the bottom of the steep staircase from the balcony, Orleans walked up. “Have you told Danny yet?” she wanted to know.

“About Jesus? Yes, I have. And next time he asks questions, just give him direct answers.”

“That’s not what I meant. Have you told him the real source of Colby Endicott’s money?”

Josh shut her down with a single look. “He doesn’t need to know. I’ll take care of it.”

Danny was so pleased
to hear Francesca Petroff laugh. Frankly, it gave him goose bumps to hear such unrestrained joy. Lately she had been far too depressed, but that’s why people had friends—to help one another laugh.

Even if they were secreted away in the mansion’s kitchen gossiping among the din of the catering staff, Danny was happy to be with his friends. At least Stephen and Wally could claim a reason to be in the room. Technically the serving staff reported to them and all of the food came from their restaurant’s kitchen. For a typical Hollywood catering job, the restaurant would have sent out a lead. Neither Wally nor Stephen would have been anywhere in sight. On the other hand, the two of them would never have been on the invitation list.

Not only were they here at his party, but they also brought Francesca with them, which Danny knew made Josh happy. But Danny was also happy. Francesca needed to get out of her house and away from depressing thoughts. What she really needed was the presence of good friends, although the music and glitter might also help.

Josh tried to explain why this party was so important, but now Danny found that he couldn’t even recall the reasons. Somehow Josh saw the event as critical to taking the company public. How having a bunch of strangers drink fancy wine and eat expensive canapés could affect decision makers on Wall Street was a mystery to Danny. He regretted uttering aloud that fleeting thought about a New Year’s resolution to better understand the business. He really didn’t care to understand the company. All he needed were his friends.

They were important to him. Years ago, Wally had taken a chance on Danny when he gave him a job as a busboy at his restaurant in the little town of Thread. He had always looked out for Danny, and that job had led to his knowing Stephen—and in turn Francesca. Friends mattered, and they made him happy.

How could he care about the kind of people Josh invited, especially Jesus Lopez? A few days earlier, Josh finally admitted that Lopez had been in Premios’ office, but Danny had no idea why Orleans first lied about it or why he had to force the information out of Josh. But he was over the incident. What did it matter how the company recruited new writers? After all, Josh would never have known Lopez if Danny hadn’t enrolled in the man’s writing course—and if he hadn’t done that, their business probably wouldn’t even exist. Truthfully, though, Danny wanted to write fiction, not offer arch reviews of restaurants or gossip about chefs. Let Francesca be the master of such work. There was a rumor that
Vanity Fair
was trying to lure her to Manhattan as their restaurant reviewer.

The party unsettled Danny. He felt a need to turn his life around. He was letting other people decide key directions for him. He had a mind of his own and he should use it. On this night his instincts told him to revel in friendship and let the party rage without him. Let Josh worry about business.

Danny and his friends
were seated around a small breakfast table in a nook of the kitchen. The table held four flutes, along with a near-empty bottle of Taittinger champagne. The nook’s windows overlooked the large swimming pool and a lawn terraced into the east side of the hillside lot. Below the terraces, the yard dropped steeply to the street below.

Stephen motioned to one of his waiters, “Bring us another bottle, and also one of those duck breast pizzas.”

Around the table, everyone was laughing. Wally was being the indiscreet raconteur and recalling every oddball movement of any celebrity that ever came into their main restaurant in East Hollywood. He had just finished flamboyantly describing a situation involving a B-level starlet and her malfunctioning wardrobe.

Francesca wiped the tears from her eyes, “How I wish I could use a tale like that in one of my reviews, but the paper is so staid. Now, Danny, he was the lucky one when he still had his ‘zine. People only read his rag to get dirt, and he could use whatever he heard.” She smiled to show she wasn’t serious, even though Danny knew the critique was totally true.

“But who was the one at this table hoovering up all the filth to pass it onto me?” Danny asked.

Even as he laughed in agreement, Wally held up his hands to deny it.

“It is so good to be here with my gay guys tonight,” Francesca said. “For the last month, I felt like I forgot how to laugh.”

For a moment, the three men were somber. They all knew about Francesca’s situation. Though single, she desperately wanted to be a mother. An opportunity arose when her young cleaning girl Maria became pregnant. The girl was single, Catholic, not yet twenty-one and the father had vanished. When Francesca offered to pay Maria’s expenses through birth and then adopt the child, it seemed an ideal solution for all. Those who knew Francesca were overjoyed. While the woman lived life large and her past was wild, no one doubted that she would be a fantastic mother. Wally, Stephen, Danny and Josh attended Francesca’s baby shower and oohed over the sonogram showing the soon-to-be-born baby girl.

But disaster struck in an unexpected way. An INS agent arrested Maria because she was in the country illegally and working without papers. Despite the best efforts of Francesca to provide the woman with legal help, Maria was deported. Later, after the baby was born in Mexico, Maria sent a letter saying she would remain living with her parents and raise the baby in their home outside Mérida. Francesca was left with only the sonogram and a room filled with baby furniture and supplies.

Danny sometimes thought life was a pinball game. Full of chance, unexpected turns, and bumpers you couldn’t avoid. He regretted the loss of Francesca’s dream, but knew better than to suggest that she try adopting again or to note that at age 39 she still might get pregnant herself (even though he had toyed with the idea of offering his sperm).