This Little Piggy (23) “Phil, you’re right, that’s not my style.” “Well…” Scarborough paused. Nachman looked at Edleberg. Edleberg eyes bulged at as if to say, don’t you dare! “Marty, I can live with the deal we’ve struck. Let’s just sign the papers.” “Are you sure you want to do that?” glared Edleberg. “I’m sure.” Kugle passed the contract across the table. After Nachman’s signature dried, Scarborough turned to Tothson. “Now Fred, I also have to appeal to your sense of fairness. You’ve stripped Mansfield bare. We’ve accepted that. But to ask us to pick up all the liabilities for the barter credits you previously issued to get the money we gave you…” Fred was not about to budge. Edleberg knew that. “Phil, this is a deal breaker. Fred feels strongly about this.” “Marty, you’re being a damn pig,” said a short-tempered Scarborough. “Phil, that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” Kugle knew nobody was going to get anywhere with Edleberg or Tothson so he tried and end-run by appealing directly to Sam “Sam, you were gracious enough to accept what is fair. Can’t you…” “Tom,” glared Edleberg. “Don’t go there.” “Don’t go where?” glared Kugle back. “Fuck you,” said Edleberg rising from his chair. “Fuck you too,” said Kugle, ready to climb across the table. Nachman broke into a cold sweat and started to rub his chest. He was visibly uncomfortable. “Marty, let’s…” “Sam be quiet! This is none of your affair.” Nachman was enraged. Nobody talked to him like that, least of all his own consigliore! “How dare you…” yelled Sam as he bolted out of the chair with his fist clenched, gasped for air and collapsed on the floor. Christine ran over to check his pulse. “Jesus Christ, his pulse is beating a mile a minute and it’s irregular as hell! I think he’s having a heart attack. Quick somebody call 911!” The place was in chaos. Christine remained by Nachman’s side, keeping him calm and relaxed. The emergency paramedics arrived in a matter of minutes, placed an oxygen mask on the fallen Nachman and began a series of tests. Minutes later the medics provided a comforting prognosis. “This man didn’t have a heart attack, he had an acute panic attack. I don’t know what you folks are doing here at this hour but the stress got him. I’d suggest you folks stop whatever you’re doing and we bring this gentleman home so he can get some rest.” “Why don’t I go with EMS back to Sam’s hotel,” said Christine. “I’ll stay by his side. We can talk about tomorrow later. Call me at the hotel when you finish.” “Fine,” said Kugle. “Let’s take a break.” Kugle, Scarborough, Bob and Michael retreated to a separate conference room. “What the hell kind of firm do you run here?” said Scarborough. “How can Marty do this to us?” “Phil, I agree Marty’s behavior is outrageous but at the moment we have bigger fish to fry. Tom, how do we get out of this mess?” “I’m afraid Fred has you over a barrel,” said Tom. “Either he gives or you give. My impression is, you lose or he walks.” “Bullshit.” screamed Scarborough. “I demand you call Sefton Delano. Tell him if he doesn’t get this deal resolved right now, Whitlaw & Company will file a professional ethics complaint with the American Bar Association tomorrow morning. We’ll shut down your whole goddamn Firm!” “I guess after three million dollars in legal fees we’re about to find out who’s got integrity and who doesn’t, eh Tom?” chided Michael. Kugle calmly walked over to the phone, knowing his career and Edleberg’s career could be in jeopardy. The phone rang five times. A voice answered, “Hello, hello…” Kugle paused. He was silent. The voice continued, “Hello, who the hell is this? It’s four o’clock in the morning.” Kugle took a deep breath. “Sefton, this is Tom Kugle. I’m sorry to wake you at such a god-awful time, but we’ve got a situation here that needs your attention. Do you mind if I put you on the speakerphone? I’ve got the Whitlaw & Company Managing Director Phil Scarborough and the ITI Company principals here with me.” “What the hell is going on?” “As you know, the ITI financing is scheduled to close tomorrow, I mean later today at ten a.m. Well, Nachman and Tothson have made a number of material last minute requests. We resolved the Nachman matter but Tothson won’t back off or compromise. He is threatening to walk.” Delano was very unDelano like. “Fuck that! Tell Marty to tell their attorney to go fuck himself. How dare they? From what I recall, the Company has already taken off its pants and spread its legs for these bastards.” “Sir…the other attorney is Marty.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “He’s representing both Tothson and Nachman.” “I thought he was ITI’s lead counsel for the closing?” “He is.” “You gotta be shitting me! Put Marty on the phone and take me off the goddamn speakerphone.” Kugle walked into the other conference room. “Marty, Sefton is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.” “Sefton, I …” (Sefton interrupted and spoke. Marty just listened. Kugle had executed a double reverse right under Marty’s nose.) Edleberg put his hand over the phone, and glared at Kugle. “You disloyal little shit, I’m going to have your ass fired after the closing!” Moments later Marty returned to the phone taking orders. “Yes sir. I understand sir.” “You better figure out a fair compromise, otherwise I’ll make sure you never practice corporate law in this City—ever! Do I make myself absolutely clear?” Magically, thirty minutes later a compromise was struck. ITI agreed to assume barter credit liabilities for those deals completed since the original acquisition term sheets were drafted eleven months prior. * “BABY, SORRY TO CALL SO LATE.” A groggy Sandra rolled over in bed. The alarm clock read 3:15 A.M. “Where are you?” “Believe it or not, we just finished the final negotiations. I’ve gotta be back here at 10 A.M for the closing., so I’m staying at Bob’s.” “Is everything alright?” “Oh yeah, it was just a typical ITI evening,” said Michael sarcastically. Sandra wanted to hang up. She had her own problems in the morning. A major heart transplant. Michael needed someone to share. “Marty found out I screwed him. Then tried to fuck me, and, screamed at Sam for not telling him. Sam had a mild heart attack. Once the ambulance left, Fred threatened to pull out of the deal unless he got another million. Phil called everybody disgusting pigs, and I believe Sefton, Marty’s boss, made a decision to fire Marty after the closing.” “Oh my god!” “But I didn’t tell you the worst part. I had a double-decker pastrami and corned beef sandwich at 2 A.M., and I’ve got a serious case of heartburn with no Pepcid in sight.” * 10 A.M. ARRIVED. IT WAS LIKE nothing ever happened. The conference room was festive and congenial. Michael counted thirty-six people, including representatives for the seven investors, the acquisition principals—including Nachman and Tothson—and their families, lawyers, accountants, the public relations people, two photographers and three caterers in the adjoining conference room setting up a lavish banquet table. “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Kugle, who had been instructed by Battle to chair the meeting. “After we get pictures, I’d like everybody to take a seat so we can execute the closing documents. We’ve got enough paper in this room to sink the Titanic.” Moments later, each investment group signed their particular documents and handed a total of $75 million in bank checks to Kugle. “I’ll make sure not to spend all the money in the same place,” joked Kugle. Scarborough rose after all the documents were notarized. “Certainly, this has been one of the more complex closings of my career, but then who could expect anything less from the one and only Bob Goldstrom.” Everybody smiled and applauded politely as Bob took a modest bow. “Bob and Michael, would you come up here,” said Scarborough. “In commemoration of this important event in the Company’s history and as a thank you for appointing Whitlaw & Company as your investment banker, we would like each of you to have a little gift.” Scarborough then gave each of them an engraved gold desk clock from Tiffany’s. Bob said a few words—his typical bullshit about increasing shareholder value. Michael and Scarborough had heard the speech so often they could repeat it word for word. “Now that the business side of business is complete, we’ve got champagne and some lunch in the conference room next store. Just fill your plates and enjoy the afternoon,” said Kugle. Sefton Delano entered the room and whispered something in Kugle’s ear. Kugle nodded and walked to the front of the room, “Could I have everybody’s attention for one more minute? My boss, Delano Mondrain Hudson’s Managing Director, Sefton Delano, would like to say a few words.” “Like Phil,” said Ted, “we’d like to thank everybody for their contributions in making today’s closing a reality. I’ve decided to close our offices for the day, so there’s no need to rush on our account. Besides, I think that’s a Dom’87 in those buckets, compliments of Phil Scarborough.” The group applauded. “I also wanted to make one last announcement. In recognition of all his years of service and hard work on this particular transaction, the board of Delano Mondrain Hudson elected Tom Kugle a senior partner earlier this morning.” Edleberg was shocked. So was Kugle. But for entirely different reasons. ######### Chapter 21. Celebration Time, Come On! “HONEY, THE LIMO’S OUTSIDE. What a nice surprise! I assume the deal closed today.” “Let’s put it this way. You are now officially filthy rich! Fifty million changed hands, the stock is rising, and we open for operations first thing tomorrow morning. I figured the least I can do for the girl of my dreams is to sweep her off her feet. “Again,” smiled Sandra. “What has Price Charming got planned?” “Nothing special. Just a romantic little dinner at your favorite spot in New York. Georgés has saved our corner table at Le Perigord for about eight. Then I figured a carriage ride in Central Park, capped off with a little you-how-what at our suite in the Plaza, the same one we stayed at on our wedding night.” “Sounds like a full night. Did we forget I’m a working girl, and I’ve got a meeting at 8 a.m.” “No problem. I’ve already talked to Margaret.” “About what?” “She a very efficient administrative assistant. We moved your eight with Dr. Walker to ten. Margaret said, under the circumstances, Dr. Walker was delighted to help.” “You’re unbelievable.” “And, just to be on the safe side, I’ve hired the limo for the evening and the morning. When you’re ready to go, your sleek black chariot will drop you right at the front door of the hospital.” “You think of everything. I’m so lucky.” * A LIGHTENING BOLT STRUCK SANDRA as she entered the limo. Tomorrow was Michael’s birthday! “Margaret,” said Sandra on her cell phone. “Something came up. Be a dear and cancel my day. Apologize and reschedule. Tell Dr. Walker, I’ll bring him some homemade cookies as a piece offering tomorrow.” “Sounds like we’ve been baking,” smiled Margaret. “But, I don’t think its cookies.” Sandra decided to do a little shopping….for an apartment in New York City. She rationalized if Michael was going to spend so much time in the City, so was she. Besides she enjoyed the twenty-four hour-a-day action and the infinite variety of choices, and the kids were old enough to baby-sit themselves. Not unimportantly, they could now comfortably afford a second residence. Sandra’s motivation was also defensive. She knew they now had lots of money. She also knew Bob had lots of money, and a black book full of women who liked to spend it. She didn’t want Michael to share. “Mrs. Martini,” said Fredericka Allen DuVoe of Douglas & Elliman, Manhattan’s elitist real agents who specialized exclusively in the East Side. “After listening to your requirements, I would recommend we focus on full two-bedroom, two-bath units with a convertible den. You and your husband would have plenty of room during the week, and the place would be more than comfortable when the kids or friends visit on weekends.” “Sounds good to me,” said Sandra. “We just happen to have a unique listing in The Horizons on east thirty-seventh. Are you familiar with the building?” “No.” “”It was voted the number one condo in New York last year. Quite exquisite. A white glove building with all the amenities. Pools, health club, full time masseuse and tennis courts. There’s even a room-top lounge with wet bar and a full kitchen where you can entertain one hundred and fifty to two hundred people. Plus, the building is in a very quiet area, just a short cab ride to Grand Central and less than twenty minutes to LaGuardia. So it would be very convenient for you and your husband.” Sandra was already to close right there. “The unit I’m thinking of is on a high floor with panoramic views of the city and the river. The current owner is the Secretary General of Thailand. It’s tastefully decorated and furnished down to crystal, china and artwork.” “What price range are we talking about?” said a skeptical Sandra and expecting the worst. “That’s the good news. The Secretary General has been recalled to Thailand and there is a limited call for fully furnished apartments of this size. I think we can absolutely steal the place for about one point four million, which is almost nine hundred thousand under the appraised price. Six months ago, Sandra would have said ‘impossible, but now she was worth over $200 million; $1.4 million was chump change. The apartment was exactly as billed. Spectacular and then some. The comfortable, contemporary furnishings suited Sandra perfectly, including the art, which was mostly Michael DeLaCroix, and Thomas McKnight signed and numbered serigraphs. There were even two original oils from her favorite contemporary artist, Thomas Pydansky of the French realist school. A week later, the offer was accepted and contracts drawn. All that remained was funding the deal. Sandra wanted to surprise for Michael so she called her new financial buddy, Jesse Dothan, for advice. “Jesse, I’m not totally sure how this whole thing works. But can I sell some of the ITI stock to buy Michael an apartment for his birthday?” “Wow. You must love the guy like crazy!” “I do,” blushed Sandra. “Dearie, I don’t know how we can do it without him knowing, since the stock is in his name.” “Actually, he transferred the stock into my name. He said it would be ‘safer that way,’ whatever that means.” “Dearie, you have a gem there. Ray wouldn’t transfer squat into my name. Not in a million years.” Sandra didn’t want to go there. She just wanted to buy the birthday present. “So, can I do it?” “You’re in luck. Michael’s stock just came out of the one-forty-four registration period.” “The one-forty-four what?” “It’s not important. All you need to know is that he has held the stock for two years, so it’s all yours. Today’s closing price was twenty-five dollars, so we only need to sell seventy thousand shares.” “My goodness, seventy thousand shares,” said Sandra getting cold feet. “Maybe we shouldn’t.” “Don’t be silly. That’s less than three quarters of one percent of your total holdings. It’s so miniscule Michael will never even know they’re gone. Where are the shares?” “In our safe deposit box.” “Here’s all you have to do. Get the certificates and messenger them to me. My firm will take care of breaking them up and getting new certificates issued. I’ll place a sell order today. In three days we can wire the money to the escrow agent and presto you’re a Manhattanite! * SANDRA WASN”T THE ONLY ONE who had decided Michael should spend some of his new found wealth. “Michael, I’m looking for the right words.” “About what?” “The way you dress,” said Bob, fork waving as he mutilated a rack of lamb at the Four Seasons. “It sucks! Your suits suck…your shirts suck…your ties suck.” “But how do you really feel?” chuckled Michael. “My tailor, Edmund Sexton is in town for the week.” “You mean that guy from England? “One and the same” “I thought you and Orem were just blowing smoke in LA.” “I’ve made an appointment for you.” “Where and when?” “My house, this evening about six. “Makes house calls eh…any relation to your buddy Vedderman? I can see the print ad now, ‘Free skewer of coke with every suit purchased.’” Michael thought the comment a tasty bit of black humor. Bob didn’t. Michael called home. “Honey, I’m going to be late this evening.”
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