Storymania - This Little Piggy by Matt Crisci

This Little Piggy (28)
Matt Crisci

“Bob, do what you’ve got to do. I’d like to update you on first quarter deal status and revenue flow. It looks pretty good.”
Bob had no interest in discussing anything with someone who had just challenged his authority. “Let’s do it later. I’ve got a couple of telephone appointments with analysts right now.”
Bob closed his door and called Singleton’s cell phone. “Jerry, got a minute? I’d like to make you an offer.”
“That’s great Bob, but I’m in the middle of Park Avenue and 54th, crossing the street.”
“So, get to the other side of the street and let’s talk,” said Bob.
As Singleton made his way through the crowd, a perennial street preacher, fondly named Reverend Wacko by the lunch crowd, was making a religious pitch to all within earshot from the edge of the pedestrian divider between north and southbound traffic. Resplendent in a black and purple robe, Jesus-like sandals and a long golden beard, he sounded a warning up and down Park Avenue.
      "Do not be misled. Money is the currency of the devil. All who seek it shall find only hell. Repent ye sinners before it's too late."
Five minutes later, the two struck a deal. Base, bonus, stock options, expense account, and promises of founder’s stock in the Barter Bank. “Jerry, I think you, Marc and I will make a great team.”
Jerry went for the kill. “Bob, does Michael agree with the offer? I’m not sure we hit it off.”
“Don’t worry about Michael. Just do your best to make your bones with him in the short term. I’m going to make some changes around here after we complete the Barter Bank financing.”
Bob called Phil to announce the hiring of Singleton. “Phil, remember the résumé I sent you?”
“Refresh me.”
“The CFO candidate recommended by Croft Rockman. Jerry Singleton.”
“Vaguely.”
“He’s terrific. Michael and I interviewed him. We both loved him. So I made him an offer.”
“Jesus, Bob, I thought we had an understanding?”
Bob attempted to bullshit his way around Scarborough. “I know Phil, but the guy had two other offers. Michael said ‘let’s not lose him.’”
Scarborough knew Bob was lying, but there was no point in being acrimonious because Michael and Rockman had strongly recommended the guy.
*
“WHERE DO YOU WANT to exchange ‘presents?’” whispered Astrid into the phone.
“Babe, I want to show you off. I just became the Cosmopolitan Club’s first Jew,” said Berger. “Can you believe that, the first Jew? And this is fucking New York!”
The Cosmopolitan Club had been an elite WASP bastion for more than a century. Anybody who was somebody or aspired to be somebody craved membership. Berger’s ‘first Jew’ pronouncement had absolutely no significance to Astrid. A Swede by way of Paris and Aspen, she didn’t have a clue about the Club’s illustrious history, or the irony of Jews who controlled the city’s economy and press, being denied entrance.
“Where is it?” she asked matter of factly.
“Sixty-third, between second and third avenues.
“Does six p.m. work?”
“Fine. Fine. Gotta go. Bob’s coming.”
Several hours later, carrying a package wrapped in green foil with a gold ribbon, Astrid searched up and down up 65th Street for the Cosmopolitan Club. No awning, no sign, no nothing. Berger had obviously given her the wrong street or wrong avenue. She approached a policeman patrolling the neighborhood.
“Officer, I’m looking for a place called the Cosmopolitan Club. I’m supposed to meet a friend there. He said it was on sixty-fifth near Park Avenue but I think he was mistaken.”
The cop responded in classic New Yorkese. “Naw lady, the guy was right. It’s one of them fancy private joints. About half way up da block up on the left side of the street. Ain’t no signs, just a small brass plaque engraved with the letters ‘CC’ and the numbers ‘eighty-six.’ You’re supposed to know that means da Cosmopolitan Club, founded in eighteen eighty-six.”
Astrid’s inner urges couldn’t pass on the opportunity for a promiscuous little flirt. “Officer, thank you for assisting an out-of-towner.”
New York’s finest salivated. “Madam, my tour’s done in about fifteen minutes. Maybe I should wait around in case your friend’s a no show?”
Tease time was over. “That’s really sweet of you. But I’m sure he’ll be there.”
Astrid walked up a curved, wrought iron staircase etched with flowers to an oversized mahogany door with a large antique brass knocker. A balding, gray haired gentleman in a tuxedo with tails answered the door as if guarding KGB secrets at the Kremlin. “Good evening, madam,” said the daunting voice. “You’re here to see whom?”
“Mr. Berger.”
“Ahhh yes, our newest member. You must be Ms. Fundland. He’s awaiting your arrival in the second floor mixed lounge. May I take your coat?”
   The butler turned and accidentally stepped into the bathroom vestibule as he strained to discretely scan Astrid’s sumptuous figure wrapped in a skintight mini-shirt and a sheer black see-through sequin top that featured two erect pink nipples. “My goodness, we keep moving these rooms. Must be more careful,” he smiled lasciviously. Astrid made his day with one of her patented ‘see you later in bed’ stares.
As Astrid entered the mixed lounge, a euphemism for a Club’s only bar that permitted women, every man gawked uncontrollably while their matronly female companions projected conceit and envy.
“Astrid, dear. Come sit,” said Berger, clumsily impersonating old money. Before long the two had downed four chocolate martinis, a concoction of Bailey’s Irish Cream, Kailua and Absolut Vodka. Every eye remained focused on them as Berger took a small gift-wrapped box out of his pocket. “Happy birthday dear, and many, many more,” said Berger, as he kissed Astrid on the cheek. “This is from Mum and me.”
Berger’s birthday present was the nourishment Astrid needed to feed her increasingly ravenous habit—three ounces of premium quality cocaine which was about a two months supply. Berger fantasized his generosity might translate into a ‘bonus’ fuck. But as he would discover, Astrid never mixed pleasure with business.
Astrid continued the charade. “I had lunch with your sister Molly yesterday. She wanted me to give you this. She sends her regrets about being out of town for your anniversary party next week. Unexpected business. You know those Germans…when they want to consummate business, they want to consummate business.”
Astrid’s ‘anniversary present’ was a copy of her little red spiral bound notebook replete with numbers, projections, summaries of confidential conversations, observations about everything and anything to do with ITI.
“Anything else you want to tell uncle?”
Astrid whispered, “Jack, there are a few recent items I didn’t get a chance to include in your gift.”
“Such as?”
“I’m not really sure what’s been going on at the office the last few days, but there has been a lot of raised voices behind closed doors. Best I can tell, Bob did some kind of deal for additional lines of credit lines with somebody named Steinberg.
“You don’t mean Sol Reinberg?” gasped Berger.
“Yes,” said Astrid. “That was it.”
“Baby, that’s big time. Sol is loaded. Bobbie must be ready to kick into high gear. Anything else?”
“Just that I overheard a conference call where Kugle told Bob the company had some kind of material event that had to be disclosed.”
“That makes perfect sense. New lines of credit, new acquisitions. Good thing I’ve got you otherwise I’d never hear about all the good shit.”
*
   SCARBOROUGH, CONCERNED THE STOCK was rising too fast, called Bob
“Bob this is crazy. We haven’t prepared, much less issued our first quarterly report and the stock’s over fourteen dollars. The markets too far out ahead. I’m concerned we’re going to release a good earning report and take a huge hit because of analysts’ inflated expectations.”
“Phil, relax. We both know whispers and rumors are the currency of the market.”
“Bob, my sources also tell me there’s a ton of ITI ‘prospective’ data flying around The Street.”
“Like what?”
“Like a list of round two acquisition candidates including estimated revenues and income.”
Bob knew there was ‘Trouble in River City.’ Other than he and Ray Dothan, nobody, not even Michael, was privy to that information. Bob expressed complete ignorance. Scarborough assumed, like always, Bob was flat out lying.
“Bob, what do you know about a little red notebook?”
“A what?”
“Apparently, there is some goddamn little red notebook making the rounds.”
Bob narrowed the likely suspects to Janet and Astrid because none of the boys took notes much less carried a notebook.
“Phil, let me do a little discreet investigating.”
“Bob, you do that. I also want to remind you again that under the terms of our agreement, you can forfeit your entire stock position should you be found guilty of violating SEC statutes and practices.”
Scarborough’s comment set off alarms in Bob’s twisted Machiavellian mind. Janet was the traitor in the ranks. Why? She was immensely loyal to Michael. It was part of a cleverly choreographed power play by Michael to steal another hunk of his founder’s stock.
Goldstrom worked himself into an emotional frenzy. He had to screw Michael first. But how?
*
WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE Melrose signed his Barter Bank contract with nary a peep out of Bob. The silence concerned Melrose, as did the recent string of conflicting ITI news bulletins from his personal pipeline, Jack Berger.
Melrose called Kugle to do a little friendly snooping.
“Tom, it’s Marc. I just thought I’d check on the status of the Barter Bank prospectus, since I haven’t gotten a final draft yet. I assume you’ve been buried?”
Melrose appeared to know nothing about the credit line and cash flow issues and the SEC’s attitude toward ITI.
“You haven’t heard?” said Tom.
“Heard what?”
“We may have a temporary hold on the Barter Bank?”
“A temporary hold? What the hell is going on?”
“Marc, I think it’s more appropriate for you to hear it from the Company. I’ll be happy to fill in the gaps later.”
Marc quickly called Bob. “Bob, I’ve been speaking to Tom Kugle who tells me there’s some kind of hold on the Barter Bank. What’s going on?”
Bob went ballistic. “That stupid fuck. Why would he make such a dumb statement? It’s patently untrue, you have my word.”
“But…”
“Let’s get Kugle on a goddamn conference call right now!”
Bob went right for the jugular. “Tom, this is Bob. I’ve got Marc on the other line. He thinks there’s a hold on the Barter Bank.”
“Michael and I discussed the matter yesterday. I believe he was going to talk to you about the material events that need to be released.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Kugle attempted to be discreet. “The press release requirements.”
“Fuck that bullshit! I’ll tell you the same thing I told Michael. We are not issuing some ludicrous ‘materials events’ press release. We are moving full steam ahead on the Barter Bank and we are going to file a new secondary financing. I’m the fucking client, not Michael. I pay your bills. You work for me, got it? Now get into gear and get Marc a final draft of the prospectus. Do we understand each other?”
Melrose was appalled at Bob’s rudeness to a fellow attorney.
*
“MICHAEL, THIS IS MARC Melrose. Since we’re going to be working closely together on the Barter Bank I thought we should get to know each other. How about bringing Sandra over to the house for dinner Friday evening. I’ve heard nothing but nice things. I’m sure Marion will enjoy her company. From what I gather, the four of us may have something in common.”
Michael realized Bob had shut him out of the Barter Bank. Period. Dinner would be a chance for him to ‘catch up.’
“What’s that?” said Michael.
Marc smiled. “We may be the only normal people in this whole deal.”
      *
     PURCHASE, NEW YORK, WAS a very discreet enclave for the super-rich, just thirty minutes from Manhattan. The Melrose driveway was the length of a passenger jet runway and lined with enough shrubbery and flowerbeds to fill the Bronx Botanical Gardens---twice. The house, a Palace of Versailles knock-off, was vintage Melrose. Elegant and not garish. The walls were casually adorned with exquisite art and artifacts. Marion Melrose was a wealthier, more polished version of Sandra Martini: gracious, genuine, beautiful and extraordinarily feminine. They quickly bonded after a few minutes of superficial chitchat. Marion was disarmingly blunt. During cocktails Marion began asking the questions Marc had not or could not answer.
“Sandra dear, this whole Barter Bank adventure is a bit of a mystery to me. My sweet darling Marc has been extremely tight lipped. He assumes I’m content with generalities such as, ‘Don’t worry dear, this new Bank will reap significantly greater rewards than the International Monetary Fund position.’ As the wife of one of the Company founders, perhaps you would be kind enough to fill in some of the blanks.”
Sandra answered with a question. “How long have you and Marc been married?”
“Thirty-three years. He robbed the cradle,” joked Marion.
“We have been married virtually all our adult life too. Perhaps that explains why Michael and Marc are so dismissive. Marion, to tell you the truth, until you just mentioned the Barter Bank I’ve never even heard of it. All I know is the company has had two quarters in a row of positive earning since the financing closed, and the stock has risen to twenty-five dollars. I’m not complaining, but it seems a little crazy that we’re already worth a fortune. Companies like Lucent have billions in revenues and the stock is priced at five dollars. Somehow it doesn’t make sense.”
“Do you mind if I’m a little nosey?” said Marion.
“Not at all. We have ten million shares after the recent reverse split,” said Sandra turning towards Michael. “ See Michael? I’m learning the lingo.” She paused and smiled.
“Actually, we have nine million nine hundred and twenty-five thousand shares. I bought Michael an apartment on the East side for his birthday next week. Happy birthday, dear, ” smiled Sandra smugly.
“Wow! The Queen of Gifts has outdone herself this time.”
Marion gasped privately after calculating that Sandra had spent around a million and a half dollars on Michael’s birthday present. What else was there to know about the Barter Bank?
Michael, ever the chameleon, knew it was time for a demonstration of humility. “Honey, I didn’t realize you were so interested in the day-to-day machinations of ITI. I just assumed dealing with egocentric doctors, an insensitive husband and two spoiled kids was a full plate.”
“See Marion, what did I tell you? Dismissive.”
“How about I have a copy of the latest business plan, and a first draft of the Barter Bank offering prospectus to your office at the Hospital tomorrow, for your review and approval?” said Michael trying to lighten the air. “Shall I messenger a set to Marion?”
They all laughed.
During dinner Marc, determined to impress Michael, explained his vision, his concerns and made numerous comment about how the prospectus could be improved to make it ‘more SEC ready.’
Michael felt the probes but had little to say because he knew so little.
After dinner Melrose changed his tactics.
“How about we retire to the library for a cognac and a cigar? I’ve got a bottle of that stunning Louis Crystal. Let’s crack the seal.”
As Michael imbibed, Melrose became uncharacteristically candid.
“I had a disturbing telephone conference with Tom and Bob on Wednesday. It’s now clear Bob has intentionally withheld relevant Company developments from me. Frankly, I wonder if the Barter Bank will ever make it to the marketplace. I’m just looking for a little clarity. As you can see, I’m an accomplished business professional and I have enormous monthly overheads to satisfy Marion’s appetite for the good life. I simply can’t afford to get into a precarious financial situation.”
Michael saw this as his opportunity to make Melrose go ‘poof,’ thus insuring his ascension to the throne, as Bob almost certainly self-destructed. “Marc, I understand your concerns and to a certain extent they’re justified. We’ve run into some unexpected short-term difficulties but I’m optimistic that we’ll work through the issues,” said Michael imitating a big bag of wind.
“Could you be a bit more specific?”
“Only if we can speak off the record,” said Michael. “As you can appreciate I have certain fiduciary responsibilities.”
“You have my word.”
Michael painted a grim picture. “We got carried away with our plans for rapid expansion. Opened offices, added staff, contracted more deals than we had credit lines to execute, all of which has forced us to make expensive third party financing arrangements which squeezes our margins and cash flow. In the meantime, Bob precedes full speed ahead on acquisitions and the Barter Bank like they are the magic panacea. He’s ignored Delano Mondrain Hudson’s repeated advice that we’ll never get through the SEC, which has suggested in writing that we’re nothing more than a sophisticated stock scam. Bob’s also ignored Phil’s counsel to stick to the knitting. I’m not even sure he’s showed Phil your entire deal.”
“Jesus, so where are we now?”
“I’m not really sure. I suspect a lot of this might come to a head at Monday’s Board meeting.”
  *
THE BOARD MEETING OPENED with Singleton providing a financial report that indicated the Company would be bankrupt in less than six months at current burn rates.
“Christ,” said Scarborough, “I had no idea things were that desperate.”
“Michael, “ said Bob, passing the buck, “I’m with Phil. We’ve got a mess looming.”
Michael wanted to defend. Bob kept on the offensive. Scarborough recognized the charade.
“Fortunately, fellas, there’s no need to panic. I’ve got a solution, ” said Bob, making like a knight in shinning armor.
“I’ll ask the managements of our acquisitions for salary relief. They’ve got tons of dough.”
Singleton then made his move.
“I’ve already done that,” said Singleton.
“And…” said Scarborough.
They all refused.”
“The sons-of-bitches,” said Bob.
“We’ll just have to work harder to find more deals,” said Michael “And to do that we have to expand our deal-finder network with a little discreet PR activity. Our investment is mostly sweat equity until the deals turn to cash. That should help our cash position. I think I can…”
Bob interrupted and began to launch into his tired speech about the Barter Bank and his ‘subject-to’ acquisition scheme.
Scarborough flipped out. “Bob, what kind of fools do you take us for? How many times do you have to be told The Barter Bank isn’t going anywhere. We’re not underwriting it and the SEC is not going to approve it. And, there isn’t a chance in hell, Whitlaw & Company is going to support another ‘subject-to’ deal until we stop the bleeding.”
“Phil, what are you suggesting?” said Bob.
“I’m not suggesting anything! I’m telling you! Cut the shit out of expenses, particularly at the corporate level. Don’t spend a dime on non-essentials…Focus on turning cash flow positive and making a goddamn profit. Screw the Barter Bank and new acquisitions. Like Michael suggested, focus on the goddamn business at hand!”
“Frankly Phil, I disagree,’” said Bob.
“Frankly Bob, I don’t care. I question whether you have any business running this company.”
*
SINGLETON SENSED THE SITUATION was ripe for exploitation. He’d developed his own cost reduction plan and requested a private meeting at Bob’s apartment to review his ‘confidential and controversial’ ideas for turning the business around. Singleton’s real intention became immediately obvious when he appeared sans Michael. While uncomfortable with Singleton’s modus operandi, the pragmatic Bob was curious about the proposal. Did it contain any ideas that might save his own ass?
Singleton was organized and rehearsed with Power Point presentation and computer in hand. He recommended postponing the Barter Bank, eliminating sixty percent of the corporate staff including administration, cutting deal maker finder’s fees, reducing executive salaries fifty percent, shutting down the Chicago and L.A. offices, putting international expansion on hold in London and Brussels, combining a number of the existing operations into a single New York office and dramatically slowing new acquisition activity.
“Jerry, that’s a pretty aggressive plan, “ said Bob.
Singleton took that to mean Bob was in total agreement. “I also have one other cost cutting idea. Eliminate executive redundancy.”
“What’d you mean?”
“I’d be happy to temporarily do double duty as CFO and COO. I’m not sure a company of our size and in our position requires so many management layers.”
Singleton had reaffirmed his reputation as a political scuzzball.
Bob concurred on corporate cuts, slowing down new acquisitions, closing offices, delaying others and reducing his base fifty percent. But he protested the cancellation of the Barter Bank-- “Jerry, you guys just don’t get it. The Barter Bank is more than a sexy spin-off, it’s THE permanent cash flow solution.”
Bob simply ignored Singleton’s gracious suggestion to can Michael and crown him COO. Singleton assumed Bob’s lack of response meant ‘not at this time.’ In reality, Bob had bought Singleton’s executive redundancy recommendation. Unfortunately for Singleton, Bob knew Michael was the one who had the relationships with Scarborough and the company managements. So, it was only a matter of time before Bob declared Singleton redundant.

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