Trump Tower (58 page)

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I can hear it in your voice. Tell me.”

She sighed loudly. “What do you do when your memory starts screwing around with your memory? When you start remembering things you really don't want to remember?”

“Good memories or bad memories?”

“They were wonderful at the time. Sort of. You know . . . but now . . .”

“Him?”

She admitted, “Yes, him.”

Alicia suggested, “Do my television trick. Run the videotape backward at quadruple speed with no sound. You'll be surprised what you see that you didn't see the first time.”

“Like what?”

“Like . . . how he used to wear really thick, really embarrassing geeky glasses. Or how he picked his teeth after breakfast in bed? Or his socks? Everybody's naked except he's still got his sweat socks on.”

Cyndi tried, “Or how he wouldn't make love to you until the first half ended, and then you had to be done before the second half kick-off?”

Alicia laughed. “Or how about when he says, you know what, darlin', I still have fantasies about that night I poured champagne into your belly button and drank it. And you have to tell him, sorry, chum, but that wasn't me.”

Cyndi laughed. “Or how about when you lie awake thinking of some guy who tattooed your name on his arm and years later you bump into him and suddenly the tattoo reads, ‘Harley Hog Heaven.'”

“Really?”

“I swear I remembered my name there.”

“Then how about . . . New Year's Eve in the Laurentian Mountains, that's in Canada, and we were skiing. Here I am, barely old enough to cross a state line, a Miami girl who's never been in really cold weather, and years later I bump into him and tell him, I never forgot that New Year's Eve. And he says, I never forgot it either, and every now and then, every few years, I try to relive it by going back to Bermuda.”

Cyndi began to sing, “We dined at eight, we dined at nine, you were late, I was on time . . .”

“Ah yes,” Alicia joined in, “I remember it well.”

“I loved
Gigi
,” Cyndi said.

“It was
West Side Story
.”

“It was
Bye Bye Birdie
.”

“It was the Laurentian Mountains.”

“It was Bermuda.”

“Ah yes,” they sang together, “I remember it well.”

Alicia asked, “Feeling better?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Cyndi hung up.

Did we dine at eight or was it nine? A chilly September night? A full moon?

She went to her laptop and found a perpetual calendar. She knew the date and she knew the year, and the calendar noted that the full moon had happened . . .

. . . two weeks before?

She couldn't believe it. The beach? The night? The moon?

But there was no full moon.

She started to laugh.

Thank you Alicia.

Fuck you Loic.

“Ah yes,” she sang out loud, “I remember it well.”

A
ntonia opened the door naked, the way he'd told her she had to, and as soon as Tommy stepped inside, he took her right there on the living room floor.

It was the first time they ever actually saw each other. Neither one of them even said hello.

She couldn't get enough of him. But then, after only two times, they went into her bedroom and he fell asleep. She lay there watching him, hoping he would wake up so they could do it again. Eventually, she fell asleep, too.

Now, opening her eyes, she saw it was after nine. She was exhausted and already late for work.

She didn't want to leave him.
Antonia has a Broadway star in her bed
. Then she remembered Belasco's weekly staff meeting. “Tommy . . . Tommy . . .” She gently touched his shoulder. “Antonia needs to go to a meeting . . .”

He stirred and reached for her.

“No Tommy, not now . . . I have to go to work.”

But he didn't listen to her, and it didn't take long before she was moaning, “Antonia wants Tommy.”

“Y
OU CALLED ME
,” the man said. “Name's Renny Regis.”

“Oh, yeah,” David said. “Yeah. I'm an old buddy of Oscar Mack Moore in Houston. That's how I got your name.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Help me find someone who owes me a lot of money.”

“Tell me who, what, when, where and why,” Regis said, “and I'll tell you how much.”

David related the entire story but deliberately left out the fact that the Colombians were Colombians. He referred to them as, “foreign business contacts.”

Regis asked, “Have the police been called in yet?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said. “Five grand a day for the first two weeks, not counting expenses. Saturdays and Sundays are prorated extra. Then we move onto an hourly rate of five hundred, not counting expenses. One week up front. Signed contract by fax. If that's not okay, it's been nice talking to you. If it is, when do you want me to start?”

David said, “Right now.”

After they hung up, David's cell phone rang. The caller ID said, “Private Number,” and David worried that it would be Don Pepe again. He thought about not answering it, but if it was Uncle RD . . .

“Hello?”

A man asked, “Is this Mr. Cove?”

“Who's this?”

“Your new best friend.”

“Who?”

“Your new best friend.”

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“I told you who I am. What I want is to look after your health, and the health of your loved ones.”

David didn't like the tone of this. “Listen asshole . . .”

“Mr. Cove, this is a courtesy call so I will be courteous. A mutual friend wants his money back. If he doesn't get it in the time allotted, when we speak next, it will be face to face . . . and not very courteous.”

“Don't you fucking threaten me,” he yelled.

“Mr. Cove,” the man said calmly, “this is strictly business. Nothing personal . . . yet. Still . . . wherever you go in the next twenty-four hours, look around. You and your loved ones won't be alone. Have a nice day.”

“Fuck you,” David screamed into the phone. “Fuck you.”

In a rage, he went looking for Don Pepe's number, and when he found it he dialed it. But the call went no further than an operator's voice saying, “The number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

“Fuck you, too.” He threw his phone against the wall, smashing it.

“What's going on?” Tina was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. “David . . . I need to know what the fuck is going on?”

“Leave me alone,” he yelled at her. “Just leave me alone.”

She stared at him for several moments, then nodded, “Fine,” and walked away.

W
HILE
A
NTONIA
and Tommy took a shower together, she said she wanted to help him get even with Pierre Belasco for banning him from Trump Tower.

“Antonia has a plan. There is somebody we should meet with. If we leave
now, I can sneak you in. There's a staff meeting I'm supposed to be at. But Antonia can't go now. Antonia will make some excuse later. It runs from ten to eleven. It means Belasco won't be in his office. I can sneak you in.”

He reached for her. “Watch me sneak myself in right now.”

“No, we don't.” She moved quickly away before he got her going again. “I've got to make a call.”

She got Katarina Essenbach on the line.

“This is Antonia . . . you know, Antonia Lawrence . . . good morning. I have someone you need to meet. May I bring him up in, say, half an hour?”

The woman said yes.

“We need to hurry,” Antonia told Tommy.

He reached for her again.

“No, no, not now. Later. Antonia promises.”

“Tommy doesn't like it when people don't keep their promises.”

They got dressed. But before they left her apartment, she worried that if someone spotted him, she'd get into trouble. So she found an old hooded sweatshirt and made him put it on. It was a tight fit but it served the purpose. Then she insisted he also wear sunglasses. He said he didn't have any with him, so she gave him an old pair of hers.

Dressed like that, she walked him through the residents' lobby at Trump Tower and right past Belasco's empty office, without anybody recognizing him or asking any questions.

On the forty-second floor, one of the maids opened the door and brought them into the main living room where Mrs. Essenbach was sitting with a heavyset, jowly man wearing an ill-fitting brown suit.

“Hey, ain't you Tommy Seasons?” the man asked.

“Oh my goodness,” Mrs. Essenbach gushed all over him. “I was there opening night and thought you were far better than Burton. I knew Richard. And you gave the role new meaning.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, not caring what she thought.

“You made that movie,” the man said. “The one where you . . . whatever, I forget, but I saw it on television . . . you were a taxi driver or something in Miami or someplace . . .”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “thanks.”

Antonia extended her hand to the man. “I'm Antonia Lawrence . . . I'm with the Trump Organization . . .”

“Oh?” The man shot a look at Mrs. Essenbach. “Then I think it's time for me to leave.” He stood up. “Nice meeting you,” he said to Tommy, merely nodded to Antonia, then said to Mrs. Essenbach, “I'll be in touch on that matter we discussed.”

“I'll see you out,” Mrs. Essenbach said and escorted him to the door.

“Who the fuck was that asshole?” Tommy whispered to Antonia, then wanted to know, “And who's this ugly bitch?”

“Be nice. She wants to help us.”

“How can she walk around with a face like that?”

Coming back into the living room, Mrs. Essenbach motioned to them to sit down, then confided in Antonia, “That was Clarence O'Bannion. You must know who he is . . . very important in the building trade . . . some sort of inspector or controller or something. I'm not really sure. After you and I spoke about Mr. Belasco, I got in touch with Mr. O'Bannion to see if he could help us.”

“That's good,” Antonia said. “Tommy also wants to help. He's very angry with Mr. Belasco.”

“The more the merrier,” she said. “Just one word of caution, please, Mr. O'Bannion would rather that you not mention his visit here to anyone.”

“Of course not,” Antonia promised. “But what does he have to do with . . .”

“Steel mesh,” she said.

“What is steel mesh?”

“Your Mr. Trump is building all over the city of New York. And in New Jersey. And in Connecticut. He has so many projects all over the place, and he buys a lot of steel mesh. If Mr. Trump doesn't fire Mr. Belasco, then Mr. O'Bannion is going to turn off all the steel mesh that goes into cement that goes into Mr. Trump's various projects.”

D
AVID RACKED
his brains for people he could call.

He knew that the guy who ran the US side of the Trade and Industry Banking Corporation of China lived in Trump Tower. But when he did a fast Google and saw that it was the government's official commercial investment bank, he knew banging on that door was a nonstarter.

Then he remembered someone else in the building.

They'd met in the elevator a year or so ago, and Tina even went to have tea with her once. He knew she was loaded and, he thought,
it's worth a shot even if I only get her to introduce me to her bankers
.

He found a number for Katarina Essenbach and rang her.

“I know this is short notice,” David said, “but Tina and I heard how y'all got screwed by the residents' board the other night. And we think that really stinks. We wanted to commiserate. So when I had a last-minute cancellation for lunch, I said to Tina, how about we see if Katarina can join us downstairs. Y'all up for something light at say, one?”

“How very sweet of you,” she said. “I'd love to see you both.”

He didn't bother finding Tina to tell her.

K
NOWING THAT
the staff meeting was in full swing, Antonia brought Tommy back to the residents' lobby and out onto Fifty-Sixth Street.

“I have to go to the office,” she said. “Antonia is so late. When will I see you again?”

“Come with me.”

“I can't. I've got to . . .”