Your Love Incomplete

X - WHEEL OF FORTUNE

  After the long weekend I spent only one day in the office and was leaving that evening for the Toronto Money Show. For Bernstein, I was going to meet with Just Trade again and look for some new publishers but the main reason was to discuss joining the brokerage house Vector with my two old colleagues from California, Chip and Greg. They had been negotiating with Vector for several months and it was time to close the deal.

  The pendulum had swung and I was feeling the wind at my back after a long period of introspection, but it was also a second wave and I was more conscious of what was happening. Winde came into my office asking lots of questions about Just Trade and what I was going to discuss with them in Toronto. I didn’t like it.

  I was too busy during the day to have any time alone with Irina and all I could do was smile at her. Finally around four-thirty I got a minute alone with her. “Let me walk you to the subway, then I have to catch a cab to the airport.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t like the tone; something had changed since we talked on the phone. I picked it up a bit during the day but I tried not to pay attention to it. We finally met on the corner a few blocks from our building and I wanted to get back to that way we had spoken while I was in Martha’s Vineyard, but she seemed very tight. I knew any strong reaction on my part was going to send her farther away but there was no time to ease into it.

  “Look Irina, I know you’re angry about my reactions some times. I really thought about it and I was wrong to snap at you.” It was sincere. I had thought about the moments I had been unkind to her and she didn’t deserve it. “You did nothing to provoke me, it was just, I don’t know. I got nervous. I saw no reaction in you, like you were far away and I got nervous.” We were at the corner of the 34th Street subway and she wasn’t saying anything. Then she turned and looked at me.

  “Keep walking, you are going to walk me to 14th street and we’re going to talk. I won’t put up with it, with being treated that way. We’d been to a party, I’d gotten up at six in the morning and I yawned, big deal. I won’t put up with it. My husband was a jerk, my other boyfriend was a jerk, and I don’t want any more jerks, okay? So treat me right.”

  “Okay.” I was a bit nervous as I’d never seen her like that.

  “And you’re lucky, very lucky. I was going to tell you nyet. It’s over. I was thinking after we talked on the phone about how you were just like them. But when you said here that you’d thought about how you treated me I decided to give you another chance.”

  “I’m glad I said it then.” Finally a few smiles and she gave me her hand and I kissed her cheek.

  “Hey, not so fast.” She reprimanded.

  “Maybe one more, just on the cheek.”

  “Just on the cheek.” I gave her one on the lips for good measure.

  “Come with me, I have to buy some thread.” We went into a sewing shop and she bought a ball of thread and then we continued down to Union Square. I was pulling my carry on and notebook but I felt like I was flying.

  “Do you have time for a drink? We can grab one at The Office, that bar with the nice terrace.”

  “You have time?” She asked.

  “Sure, for you, I have time, but only for you.”

  “Don’t be so nice, it makes me nervous.” She grimaced comically as she said it.

  We sat outside at the popular bar in Union Square watching the people walk by and held hands and kissed. She felt like pure magic, every part of her. I played with her hands, stroked her hair, looked into her eyes. I was in very deep and having a strong intuition what the final outcome would be made it all the more intense. “You know, you’re a real jerk.” she said.

  “Me? Why? What did I do now?”

  “Why didn’t you talk to me for six weeks? You know, I felt very close to you and then, puff, you were gone, with that cold look in your eye like you wanted to kill me or something. How can you be that way?”

  “Hey, you know how hard that was for me? Everyday I wanted to grab you, drag you into my office and, well, you get the picture. But I really thought you didn’t want it. I thought you wanted me to just lay off.”

  “Maybe, but you were very cold, you scared me.” I couldn’t help but think that it was all some kind of perverse power game with her, that she wanted to see me grovel.

  I decided to just tell her. “Look, one thing that bothers me and I want to get it out in the open. Sometimes I think this is some kind of domination game you play. Do you really care about me, or do you just want to see me on my knees, begging?”

  “Maybe, maybe a little. You know I’m Scorpio.” She smiled an evil smile that only made me want her more.

  Walking the floor of The Money Show I couldn’t help being reminded that the hook in every con game is easy money. Booths pawning all sorts of bizarre software based on Gant, Fibonacci or the latest concoction of some self anointed trading guru were filled with wide eyed suckers desperately seeking to unlock the secrets of the markets. Greg, Chip and I were also hustling, hoping the two brothers that owned Vector would see us as their ticket to growing their business, but who would end up hustling whom was still not clear. The three of us went outside to have a coffee and talk about our plan before we met up with the brothers from Vector.

  Chip was a pudgy, red haired wheeler-dealer who started out life in multi-level marketing and worked his way up through a boiler house brokerage firm making hundreds of calls a day to finally wind up in business development working with me out west. We had done some deals together to make money for other folks and now we were finally going to make the pitch for ourselves. Greg was tall, wiry and like most professional traders, weird. He had been a trading seminar speaker and mentor and our plan was to make him an authentic trading guru through whom we would have people sign up and fund brokerage accounts with Vector.

  The goal was to have Vector go from 10,000 funded accounts to 100,000 in three years then sell the brokerage and cash in with the three of us getting market rate salaries plus equity in the meantime. The metrics were quite simple. Brokerage firms with active traders were valued at about $700 per funded account making Vector worth about seven million dollars. Our plan had them becoming a seventy-million dollar company in three years with each one of us getting a 5% equity stake.

  The thought of a three million dollar plus payoff was enticing and I knew that there were probably few people in the country who could do what we did, and they would have probably wanted much more than we were asking to join Vector. I would cover the online marketing, Greg understood the traders and how to reach them and Chip was the wild eyed salesman with too much energy who got things moving. It would certainly be an interesting pitch.

  We met the two brothers who owned the brokerage firm Vector, Seth and David, at their booth. Seth smiled a lot and was the friendlier of the two brothers, David being more reserved with a knack for looking at people with side glances and I had the feeling he was the one who called the shots. They took us to a classic steak place in downtown Toronto and we danced around the business at hand for the first hour until Chip couldn’t hold back. They had been sitting on our business plan for over three weeks so we were sure they would have plenty of questions.

  Chip finally popped the question. “So, what did you think of the business plan, we’re all certainly anxious to hear your thoughts.” He’d already had a few beers at the show and was beginning to get a glow on with the wine at dinner. Greg and I had warned him to keep the drinking under control and not say anything about the business plan- to let them bring it up. But he simply couldn’t help it.

  Seth began. “We like it very much. We’ve reserved a conference room at the hotel tomorrow from ten to twelve and we can go over it in more detail there, but all in all, we find it intriguing.” David was chewing his steak and I had no urge to educate these two guys for free. David looked at me, wiped his mouth with the napkin and began to talk.

  “Arthur, your acq
uisition cost for funded accounts is very high. We can’t spend that kind of money to get accounts. Options Mania, in their yearly report has a $300 acquisition cost per account and you want to spend $350 per account? Seems high.”

  “Well, there are two ways to look at it. First, from a revenue standpoint, those accounts are doing about $500 in marginal revenue per account, so your first year ROI isn’t bad, around 40%. And what those financials don’t say is how many accounts they are getting for free from Just Trade in exchange for equity to the owners of Just Trade. Their acquisition cost per funded account in the paid advertising area is probably around $500 according to my sources. You can’t mix apples and oranges.” It went over badly but I was in no mood to pander.

  “How do you know that?” David insisted.

  “Well, I know the conversions they get, the CPM’s or cost per thousand page views and the cost per click they pay and how many accounts actually get funded. I can’t tell you to the penny but it’s pretty close to five hundred bucks a pop. Have you done any paid advertising?”

  It was going from bad to worse and I could see Chip getting nervous. David continued as the others watched. “We have done some, without success. But our question is this. Why do paid advertising at $350 when Greg and Chip can get accounts for much less?” Chip wanted to jump in but I gave him the signal to let me continue.

  “Look, I understand your point, why not just do business development and that way pick up accounts without any money upfront. There are three reasons why that’s not a good idea. First, marketing know how. If you only use business development deals there is one part of your business you don’t understand. If you want to grow this business and reach 100,000 accounts you must learn how to use media to acquire accounts, if not, you’re a three legged table. The second reason is consistency. I’ll bring in a very steady number of accounts each month and there will be growth. Business development is going up to the plate only to hit homeruns. The third reason is I can ramp up my end of the business and make it really big; I can advertise anywhere in the world where there are traders who speak English.” The tone was wrong; they weren’t liking me and I was getting the feeling they didn’t want to spend money- they wanted the omelet but they didn’t want to break any eggs. We finally agreed to get into the details in the morning and went back to industry gossip before parting ways for the evening. Chip, Greg and I headed to a pub for the post mortem.

  “Look guys.” I told them. “They don’t get it. They want to pick up some accounts for nothing, cost per acquisition deals, guaranteed $200 accounts and that’s it. I don’t think they want to put up the money to start advertising.”

  Greg was just listening and as usual, Chip did most of the talking. “No, no, they want the whole deal; he’s just seeing if you know what you are talking about.” I was drinking a lot trying to kill the growing feeling that I didn’t want anything to do with this deal. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life groveling to unimaginative misers. “When they see the excel, when you explain with the numbers in front of them, they’ll get it.” I was doing the thinking, the creating and the number crunching but I was beginning to realize that the key to business is politics, not ideas. Business is creating the right relationships, not coming up with brilliant schemes.

  Greg leaned over. “Arthur, you are the best guy doing this that I’ve ever met. They know that. They need you and they need us. Without us, they can’t take the business to the next level.” I let them massage my ego but down deep I wasn’t buying any of it.

  The meeting the next day went much better than the dinner and they didn’t argue with our salaries or our equity stakes. By the end we were discussing how many times I would commute to their offices in New Jersey, as I was the only one on the east coast, and Greg and Chip would work remotely. As the focus turned more toward the mechanics of how we would function as a team I really felt like the deal was going to close. David had prepared a lot of technical questions that we were able to answer easily, giving them cheap solutions to reporting and optimization. By the time we got to the airport at 3PM we were in celebratory mode.

  Chip was being loud and Greg was getting self-conscious at the ever growing raucous as I egged Chip on. An older women sitting at a table near the bar smiled at us. She looked a bit like a gypsy and was stretching out yarn and measuring it with a tape. I began to think of Irina and I sent her a message which she answered in short order and with good humor. Feeling happy and confident I set out to the duty free section to buy her something. Money had been flowing in from all parts: from Harry Scott, from Bernstein, and from the money on the side from Bernstein. Feeling flush and bit juiced, I headed directly to the jeweler. Immediately I saw what I wanted, a very elegant three carat emerald pendant with a gold chain. It set me back several grand but it made me feel like a million bucks and I returned to the airport bar in good spirits with an hour to kill with the boys. Chip was talking to two women and I was flirting shamelessly with the waitress.

  I took the next day off claiming illness and feeling very much out of Bernstein. If I left them, I could still keep the money I was making on the side with Ryan and Rudy which was now almost the same as my salary. Harry Scott would be a different story but I could maybe hand him off to someone and keep a cut while focusing my energies full time on Vector. I had a coffee on the roof, read the paper and sent SMS messages to Irina telling her how much I wanted to see her and we had arranged to meet at Bogart’s on 5th Ave below Grand Central. We hadn’t been together romantically since the night of the Bernstein bash when we fought and I needed her in every way imaginable.

  Bogart’s was an upscale place and it fit my mood. I got there a few minutes early and enjoyed the anticipation of seeing and feeling her. There were much more beautiful and sophisticated women at the bar but I wasn’t interested in any of them. I only wanted Irina. I watched her come in with hair pulled back and the bangs hanging on her forehead, black jeans, boots, and a pink blouse- I was proud knowing she was coming to me. She slid onto the stool next to mine and kissed me.

  “Wow, you’re very happy today. Right off the bat I get a kiss.”

  “Yes, I’m happy today. I don’t know why. Maybe because I knew I would see you. Maybe, don’t get too excited.”

  “Oh my, I’m jumping out of my seat.” Though being sarcastic, it wasn’t far from the truth. I told her about the trip and my prospects and she seemed genuinely interested.

  “Look babe, we could even set up a little deal where you go out on your own, create an agency, and I can feed you business from Harry Scott and Vector trade. We can be partners, you handle the agency, I work on the inside. It would be our own little agency. Two strong clients are enough to start out making reasonable money. We can work it from there.” It wasn’t something I’d really thought about but it did make a lot of sense and I wanted to include her in all aspects of my life. She seemed enticed by the idea. “Anyway, how is the office going? Any intrigues with me being away?” I hadn’t expected anything but she became serious.

  “I wanted to tell you but I thought it would be better to wait till after your meeting yesterday. Winde, Perlini and Bernstein were in the conference room for a long time, not sure what is going on. Perlini didn’t say much.”

  “Well, you never know with them.” I went on to tell her about the conversation Leyla and I had. “Look, if anything happens, just remember you’re the victim, they can’t touch you and you can sue them for a ton of money. They will come after me, that’s it.” I felt a bit uneasy about what was going on in the office but I was feeling very confident about Vector and I was emotionally out of Bernstein.

  “Have you been a good girl?”

  “Always.”

  “Of course.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Well, here is a little something to brighten up that pretty neck of yours. You have a wonderful neck.” She really did, thin, but with tone. I took the black box out of
my sport coat and as I opened it the emerald seemed to come alive on the black velvet. She stared at it wide eyed and slowly turned her head toward me.

  “Oh my God, it's beautiful; no one has ever gotten me something so nice.”

  “It will look great on you, may I?”

  “Yes, please.” I put it on her and looked up at the mirror that angled downwards and the gem gave her a regal air. She was already happy but she became almost ecstatic. She turned her stool towards me and I smelled her and tasted her- she again became my connection to the world and I felt vital and alive.

  “Let me take you to dinner.” There was a Belgian place on 21st Street that I really liked and we walked out onto 5th Ave. and took a relaxed stroll downtown; it was already dark and there was a bit of chill in the air as the fall was announcing its arrival. She giggled, held my arm and then suddenly she started skipping like a child.

  “I’m so happy, very happy.” She exclaimed. It wasn’t just about the gift. I’m sure she liked it very much but she was beside herself with joy and it was contagious. I’d felt love before, but never so complete and all encompassing. As always, the Belgian place was packed as they took no reservations so we put our names down for a table and drank tap Delirium Tremens at the bar. I got her a stool and she radiated her ecstasy. Two girls where standing and looking at me, not because of me but because of the girl I was with. We finally got a table and she ordered lamb and I had a loin of pork; all very simple but delicious.

  I held her hand and spoke, “You know what; no one’s ever made me feel so happy. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” She smiled that rare, once in a month smile that filled me entirely. After desert I felt a wave of energy, “Hey, let me take you to my local, Thursdays are usually fun there, you can meet the guys.”

  “Let’s go.” She exclaimed.

  It was a good naturedly rambunctious Thursday night crowd. “Merv, let me introduce you to Irina, her first time in this distinguished establishment.”

  “Nice to meet you, he’s a good lad, take care of him.”

  “I will!” She responded joyously and with that he served us a pair of drinks and put down three shots of Jameson’s.

  “For good times.” She tossed it down like nobody’s business and the party was on. This was my first trip back since going on the wagon and they welcomed me home like a prodigal son.

  “Arthur, how’s tricks?” Asked one of the Irish waitresses as she came up and gave me a kiss. “Sorry darling, he’s family.” As the hours flew by and the drinks poured we had a tough time keeping our hands off each other. By four in the morning the doors were closed and we were all smoking at the bar when someone put on an old Frankie Valli song and we did a little dance which brought out hysterical laughter from the Irish.

  The next day at work was horrible. I was half waiting to get fired, but nothing happened and there was no news from Perlini. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell. I cut Irina loose early and we planned for a dinner at my apartment the next day, Saturday. I had dinner alone at an Italian place and called her just to her voice. She was still on and I couldn’t get the smile off my face.

  It had been a long time since I had cooked a sensual meal and I was in the mood. I cleaned up the apartment then enjoyed shopping, slowly and carefully picking out the right ingredients. I made a gazpacho, got some King Crab and made Monkfish in a green sauce. I had two bottles of a good Albarino and carefully set the table on the roof. She called me when she was close and asked me to meet her on the street as she didn’t like to ask for me at the desk. I sat on a wall on 39th Street and watched her approach in a long skirt and tight fitting small white tee-shirt and she seemed like she was walking out of a cloud. About ten feet down the wall there was an older black woman with a sewing bag. As I was watching Irina come toward me I saw the old lady pull out a long piece of yarn, then reach in her big bag, take out scissors and cut it.

  I took Irina up to the roof and sat her at the prepared table and rushed back with the gazpacho, one bottle of chilled wine and the crab appetizer. I opened one large crab leg for her and fed her the big moist chunks of meat. I continued to serve her and watch her relish in the delights. I was truly in love and that moment seemed like the culmination of my life and all I had ever wanted. Bigger things seemed on the horizon and I dreamed of giving it all to her. She sat on my lap and we drank wine and loved each other. “When’s your lease up?” I asked.

  “Shush, you’ll jinx it. But anyway, the end of November.” I remembered our first conversation about the swing, the child, and the dog. I wanted to give her all that, and more, and at last I felt like she would let me. She was a little drunk and pointed at the East River and said. “You know, I’m from a long way over that way, a long way.” And she was.

  XI - JUSTICE

  When I woke up she was sound asleep. I rubbed her back and she smiled and turned over. I decided to go out and get us some breakfast and after buying some bagels I had a Bloody Mary in my local while I watched a bit of a football game that failed to interest me. Once on my second Bloody Mary I realized how quickly I’d fallen back into the heavy drinking. The problem with drinking then was that I couldn’t enjoy it without thinking I was doing something wrong and I had a similar feeling about Irina. When I got back she was coiled in a deco armchair I had recently bought and I was afraid to even get close to her.

  We quietly ate breakfast and I made a few comments about the news but she didn’t seem interested. Fortunately she said she was tired and wanted to take a nap so I tucked her in and decided to go out for a few hours. I thought she needed some space, some time alone to get adjusted to the apartment on her own. I went back to my local and chatted with a cute new Bulgarian waitress. She seemed different from Irina, warmer and more natural. She wasn’t exactly pretty but she had an earthy appeal that was a pleasant contrast to the erratic, urbane Irina. But I was hooked on Irina; I had swallowed the bad pill and there was nothing I could do about it. The Sunday football crowd was getting me down.

  When I got back to the apartment she was up and in a better mood and I hoped it was just the hangover that made her appear distant in the morning. We took a walk uptown and wound up in Central Park where I got a phone call from Chip which seemed to annoy her. I gave her the update on Vector but she didn’t seem interested. She wanted to take a rowboat out but once we were in the water it felt stale, the steam had gone out of her but I was in no mood for drama. “How about a trip next weekend? Want to go to San Francisco?” I thought that might cheer her up a bit. “We can stay in a posh hotel on Nob Hill, do it up, have a good time. How does that sound?”

  “Okay, sounds good.” I realized I was trying to buy her but it seemed like the only way to cheer her up; I just wanted her to smile and be happy. I started thinking she was still in love with her ex-husband; maybe she woke up thinking of him. It had happened to me before, waking up with someone new wishing I were with another. We had dinner on the Upper West side and she said she wanted to live there, a place that had no attraction for me whatsoever. The next morning I left for work first as I had the early Monday meeting and I was hoping she would snap out of her funk once she got some time alone.

  I found it difficult to concentrate at work as I was anxiously waiting for news from Vector and dreaming of telling Bernstein I was leaving. I tried to tell myself that once I was gone things would improve with Irina. Chip called and said they wanted me to confirm some numbers and he was sure the deal would close that evening as he had been on the phone with the brothers from Vector all morning. I sent Irina an IM to confirm our trip to San Francisco and she responded with, “Sounds fantastic!” so I bought two last minute tickets to San Francisco and booked a room for Friday and Saturday night. I was hoping we could celebrate the Vector deal with Chip and Greg and really do it up. I sat looking at the ceiling worried about Vector and about her. Before she left I called her into my office.
r />   “You seem a bit down. Is something wrong?”

  “No, just tired.”

  “Is it me?”

  “No.” She smiled and came up to my desk and gave me a peck on the cheek. “It’s not you.”

  “Do you want me to walk you to the station?”

  “No, I’m okay, see you tomorrow.” It was all wrong, everything was wrong but I tried to convince myself that she was just worn down and needed to rest. My only consolation was the hope that Vector would close so I headed to my local to tie one on and hope for the best. Chip was calling every half an hour with more questions about the metrics and I realized that I was the only one who really understood the plan and his upbeat talk was starting to sound a bit contrived.

  Again the football, this time the Monday Night version- it was like the plague. Even the bartender Merv and the regular crowd seemed a bit distant, the vibe was all wrong. I stopped drinking beer and went to the Bourbon hoping it would help. After three I finally got a bit of relief and Merv thankfully pulled up a chair and chatted a bit before he had to jump back behind the bar as the place began to fill up. I just sat there, alone, looking at my self in the mirror not sure what I wanted just hoping for some piece of good news to pick me up. I looked at my phone, cigarettes and my drink all staring back at me from the bar when the phone rang. It was Irina.

  “Hey babe, what’s up, glad you called. I was thinking about you. No news from Vector yet.” I was really hoping she would say something kind.

  “Hi” She sounded very somber.

  “What’s up, how you doing?”

  “Not good. Look, we need to talk. I can’t go to San Francisco with you. I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. Can you cancel the trip?”

  “Now you decide, after I bought the ticket?” I walked out of the bar and onto the sidewalk where I lit a cigarette.

  “Look, I can pay you for it.” She continued. “I just can’t go. We need to stop everything. I’m sorry, it’s just not right. It doesn’t feel right. I’m really sorry.” I hung up the phone and walked back into the bar, threw back my bourbon and ordered another one.

  Merv came by. “You look like you got some bad news, you okay?” I nodded because I couldn’t speak; I didn’t feel like I could make any sounds. I just sat there like a stoned zombie, numb and not feeling anything. I kept looking at the phone, drinking, thinking maybe she would call back, maybe she would explain. I got up and went out to the street to smoke and I slowly began to simmer. I knew she wouldn’t call so I finally phoned her.

  “What?” She answered angrily.

  “You’re a coward. You tell me this on the phone when you’re going to see me tomorrow? Why not just talk to me, tell me what’s going on? No, you tell me on the phone at ten-thirty. You are lousy coward, you make me sick.” I hung up then erased her number, and all the messages, outgoing calls, and incoming calls so I wouldn’t call her again. I went back into the bar and drank and drank all the time dreading the idea of going home and to the office the next day. I somehow made it back to my apartment and woke up early, very angry and still drunk.

  Once everyone from my team had arrived I called a meeting in the conference room. She usually sat to my left but as she was about to sit down I told her to move farther down. I told them that the Bosley account was still a disaster and that nobody had done anything to help Perlini on it. I told them I wanted everyone to hit the phones very hard and help him out. Then I told Irina. “Okay, Irina, you can go back and start calling Bosley.” She looked up confused. “I mean, the meeting is over for you, you can go back to work.” I kept Shelley and Perlini, told them to double the effort and get some results. They I sent them back to and went to smoke on the street. I was fuming.

  I came back, got Irina and told her to come down to the street. “Go get the money, five hundred bucks for your ticket. I’m not getting stuck with that. You can’t tell me in person what’s up, fine, go to the bank, now, and get the money.”

  “What?”

  “Something you don’t understand?” She grimaced and left. She came into my office with the envelope and I took it. I was still beside myself with anger. Winde came in and shut the door.

  “What’s going on with you? The kids are nervous. What is it, no more Mr. Nice guy?” He was smiling.

  “Look, I’m sick of these accounts that aren’t getting filled. You’re right, I’ve been too nice. We need to step on them more.”

  “All right, glad to see you’ve come to the dark side.”

  About ten minutes later Chip called sounding upbeat. “Look, things are working out well, they’re starting to write up the contracts and I’ve got the terms just as we had discussed.” Finally, some good news. “Only one hitch. They want to bring Greg and I on first. Greg as a consultant and me as an employee. They just want to wait a bit, have me get a few biz dev deals up and running and then they can bring you on.”

  “What, you agreed to that? I thought we were a team. What the fuck is this about? I do all the work, write up the business plan, and they leave me out. It’s absurd.”

  “Look, Arthur, relax a bit. They want to wait. If they bring you on, they have to start spending money on advertising. They want to hold off on that.”

  “I see. Nice work Chip. Some great negotiating there. Have fun with them and leave me the fuck alone, no more questions. You’ve been pulling my chain for six months and I’m sick of it. Enough of your bullshit.” I hung up. He called back and I told him I was busy. I was stuck at Bernstein looking at Irina all day.

  I rode Irina all week. I looked over every invoice she approved and as luck would have it she signed one without checking the delivery. She was going to send a check for ten grand for something that was never done. In front of everyone I explained it to her and told her from that moment on, I would approve all of her invoices before they went to accounting.

  Later in the week Perlini came in to see me and said Irina was saying I was going to fire her. I blew him off and told him it was just a mistake she had made and that nobody was going to get fired. He knew the whole the story- there was no doubt about it. One morning that week she came in, I said good morning. No answer. I walked to her cube and told her. “In this country, when the boss says good morning, you say good morning.” I was seriously starting to lose my sanity and dignity.

  Love had turned to hate and I was possessed by some kind of demon. I finally got a hold of myself a bit and that same afternoon I dropped an envelope on her desk with the five hundred dollars. She said nothing. That Thursday, Winde brought her into his office and shut the door. When she left he called me in alone.

  “What’s going on with you two? Before you worked so well together but everyone has been noticing the tension. I talked to her and she wants to stay on the team but would like some distance from you.” He paused for a moment looking at me. “Maybe not work so closely with you. I don’t know what’s going on but it’s not good so give her some space. I’m going to call her in now and lets try and clear the air.”

  We sat there and listened to Winde talk about how well we had worked together and how poorly things were going; he was obviously enjoying himself and I was furious. I finally spoke. “Look, when I say good morning to a report, I expect them to say good morning back. It is standard protocol.”

  “I didn’t hear you.” That’s how it went. In the weekly meeting with Winde, Bernstein and the team she was talking over me and not looking at me. Finally one afternoon, for the first time since I was at Bernstein, I asked Winde to go out for a drink. He knew and I knew he knew.

  Winde was merciless. “Look, she has totally beaten you, she wins every time. All your cockiness is gone. She has you completely dominated.” And that’s how our first drink together went. Why I thought he could help me I have no idea, maybe because I disliked him so much. The following week things calmed down as I rode her hard about work an
d she seemed to finally give in. It was the middle of the week in early October and I came in feeling miserable and completely heartbroken. Seeing her everyday was a rollercoaster and all the pain would come rushing back as soon as I caught my first glimpse of her in the morning. It was like a psychotic episode. Finally I couldn’t handle it anymore and asked her to have a coffee. She said okay and came down with me and we sat where we used to sit and I opened up.

  “Look, I’m going crazy, as you can see, I’m losing my mind.” She sat on the ledge and I sat below her on a chair. I put my hand on her leg and she rubbed it. “Can’t you do something?”

  She just shook her head and looked down and sighed while I hoped for some reprieve that I knew wouldn’t come. “Why can’t you just love me, why? Can’t you try?” She shook her head. She had become indifferent which made it all the more painful.

  Another day I walked her to the park and I asked her if she wanted a coffee and she just looked up and said, “Is this going to take long?” That’s when I was completely sure that she was done with me and the desperation was beginning to set in with a vengeance. I would suffer through the day feeling a dagger slip into my side each time I saw her. I would leave the office as soon as possible and head to my local and drink myself into oblivion. All the hope and energy were gone.

  Then it happened. Sitting in my office, Winde came in. “Barry and I want to talk to you.” It was Friday October 12th and I knew they were going to whack me. Winde sat across from me and Barry at the head of the conference room table. Bernstein the brave was out of the office. Winde began, “Look, we’re going to have to let you go. Things didn’t work out as we planned.”

  I shook my head. “What didn’t work out like you planned?”

  Winde continued. “We expected better performance, we brought you in to work under me; it was a new position and you just didn’t give us the results we wanted.”

  “Really? Interesting. I closed Just Trade for you and actually did media buys, something you couldn’t do before I came and I made you a 40% ROI. Ebony, you go in and blow it. I go back, clean up your mess, and close that. What they hell more do you want?”

  “Well, there were other things. Now don’t deny it, we know that something was going on with you and Irina. You would leave together and someone saw you with her, let’s say, in a compromising situation. And now that has blown up and caused quite a stir. Sorry, we will have to let you go.”

  Barry finally spoke up. “Someone also saw you looking at a job site when they were in your office.”

  “Who?”

  Winde jumped in. “That’s not important.”

  “Oh, I see, some dirty laundry. Well, if you want, we can throw all our dirty laundry on the table here and see whose stinks more. I have no problems with that, no problems at all.”

  Winde looked at me like he wanted violence but Barry waved him off and I continued to stare at Winde. “You want to talk about dirty laundry Winde? How about doing lines in front of my media buyers?” I growled.

  Barry responded. “Look, we don’t want that. The reason really is you were looking at a job site. We can’t have our Director of Media buying checking out job sites.”

  “I get tons of emails about jobs, I check them out, we all do. That’s no reason to fire me.”

  Barry was starting to get nervous and told me to leave for a minute. I went into my office and started packing and it took about five minutes as I had almost nothing there. They called me on the phone and told me to come back to the conference room.

  Winde led off. “Look, we have to let you go. We can pay you till the end of the month.” I just got up and left and walked up to Irina’s booth. “Come here.” She followed me without comment.

  “So you win, you little bitch. You told them I was looking at job sites? Nice. You’re very welcome. Dragged you out of some shit ass job, taught you the ropes and this is what I get? Congratulations.” With that I headed to my local. The surge in tension snapped me out of the malaise and depression I’d been in since Irina left me. I would have never left Bernstein on my own and down deep I was glad that they had fired me. It was liberation from my misery, humiliation and shame. I had lost control of myself and they had done me a favor by cutting me loose and I had a trick up my sleeve to milk some more money out of them. Ryan and Rudy called me and were both headed to meet me for a drink. Surprisingly, Perlini tagged along. I assumed he was doing recon for his bosses but it actually played nicely into what I had planned for them.

  Rudy and Ryan arrived with Perlini and I found his squeaky, grinding voice more annoying than ever. “Jeez, Arthur, I’m really sorry.” We sat in a back patio were we could smoke and I just looked at him. “So, what are you going to do now?” He asked.

  “Well, there is always Just Trade, I could take that, and then there is the venture capital firm. I have the phone number of the partner who handled the Bernstein Media deal, might want to have a conversation with him, let him know about some of the anomalies going on.” Perlini took the bait.

  “Wow, that might be pretty heavy, when are you going to call them?”

  “I’ll send you an SMS with the time and date if you want.” No response.

  “Well, here is five dollars for my beer, I should be going.”

  “How many fucking drinks have I bought you? I get fired and you don’t even have the courtesy to buy me drink? Take your money and stick it up your ass. Get the fuck out of here.”

  “Okay.” And he left, having finished his little errand for his masters and picking up his five dollars on the way out.

  Ryan smiled once Perlini was gone. “Holy shit, I thought you two were going to go at it.”

  “That little fuck, can’t trust him, but he will do what he is told and maybe I can squeeze a little something out of them. All our stuff is going okay I think, except we might lose Ebony once Winde gets hold of it but Just Trade should continue fine, and we still have Harry Scott.”

  Rudy asked. “When are you going to Florida?”

  “I’ll probably head down there in two weeks or so. We have thirty grand, five for him, and the rest for us. When I get back I will give you guys a holler. Ryan, how is your guy in Queens?”

  “All is good; I should have another payout next week. Once the checks go out I will hook up with him. So what the fuck happened? Why did they axe you?”

  “They said the reason was someone saw me on a job site, Irina, the little Soviet cunt, must have gone and blabbed.”

  They had never heard me speak like that as I usually tried to refrain from extreme vulgarity, but I couldn’t help it- I was way out on the edge.

  Rudy shook is head. “Man, you got to watch those young Russian girls, when they’re bad, they’re bad.”

  “You ain’t kidding.” I knew they knew and everyone knew and that made the whole thing harder. I didn’t want to talk about it and they were kind enough not to delve. We wrapped up our business and I hung out, relaxed and actually felt a bit of relief knowing that the whole episode had come to an end. I was disgusted with myself and how I had acted, including how I had treated Irina but something had overcome me and crushed my ego. I was thoroughly humiliated.

  I spent the weekend finishing the Ali Mohammed article and sent it over to Wild Bill who got it published on a couple of alternative media sites. The response was immediate and very positive and that picked up my spirits. I needed some kind of a diversion so I signed up for a bunch of dating sites and started looking for Russian girl as a substitute/diversion.

  That Monday I got a call from the HR Director from Bernstein. Perlini had worked his magic and they were offering me three months severance, plus my vacation pay if I signed a non-compete agreement and a separate non-disclosure statement were I agreed not to discuss any of the internal operations of Bernstein Media. I didn’t want Just Trade anyway, so I met her for coffee, signed both papers and got my check.

&n
bsp; The first week I floated in a strange trance spending lots of money and never counting how much I actually had. I knew the day of reckoning would come financially but I preferred to put it off for awhile knowing I had a few paydays ahead of me and the Harry Scott account. I hated Irina and the hate protected me, temporarily, from taking a good look at myself and how I had acted.

  Greg and Chip came into town and we met at the Wheel and Tapper on 43rd Street across from Grand Central. They were in a kiss and makeup mode and I let them pander. It was the same Irish bar where I’d had my first lunch with Irina and I didn’t relish the idea of going back. As I approached the pub, only a hundred feet or so from the entrance to the building where Bernstein had their offices, I couldn’t help but hope I would see her. I sat at the bar waiting for them to arrive from JFK looking out the window hoping I would catch a glimpse of her leaving the office. I didn’t. Greg and Chip came in and Chip was being his hyper self, asking me lots of questions about sites and who he should call which was getting me progressively more annoyed. I needed to vent, but they were hell bent on business. Finally Chip throw out one of his typical comments.

  “So, where is you girlfriend, giving a blowjob to her new boss?” I’m sure he meant it as a way to diminish her but it hit me square in the balls. I gave him the death stare and seriously considered slugging him. He was about two feet away, and I was pretty sure I could back up a step and pop him square in his pudgy little nose. My left hand was on the rail of the bar; I took a deep breath and pulled back when Greg rushed over and put his hand on my arm.

  “He’s only kidding, you know how he is.” My eyes never left Chip’s. I really wanted to kill him.

  Chip immediately began his cheap apology. “Bro, come on, I was only joking. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to lighten you up. I know what you must be going through. That was a good gig.”

  “I could give a shit about the gig.” Chip quickly ordered another round and some shots and I slowly calmed down. I was starting to wonder why I even associated with these types of people. I considered them my friends but I was starting to see that they were nothing more than leeches. We settled at a round table near the bar and they began a long discourse on how Vector was going to bring me aboard soon but I was miles away following the subway through Manhattan to Brooklyn and imagining Irina on it. I had lost my entire urge to vent and was getting scared of how much I wanted to see her, talk to her, touch her. Chip started again haranguing me for ideas and metrics and I realized more and more I wanted nothing to do with them. Money and more money. How to make it, how to trick people into thinking they can make it, and so on and so forth. I became stiff, talking without really speaking and hearing my own voice echo. Another curtain was closing and I tried to be magnanimous.

  “Look, Chip, I will send a couple of emails out letting folks know that you are now with Vector and that you will be contacting them.” After a little more business talk I cut loose and vowed to have nothing more to do with them. I felt a wave of disinterest come over me for all things business. It just didn’t matter any more. I hit my local for a night cap then headed home and started chatting on an international site I found. Of course I looked towards Eastern Europe. I was waking up later and later and immediately going to these sites to chat with far away, mysterious girls. Something about them seemed more innocent, more real, than anything I could imagine in New York and they became my main distraction.

  Stein, the Creative Director from Bernstein called me one day and we met at an oyster bar on 3rd Ave. He was dressed to the nines, as always, and his conversation was a relief. I asked him what there were saying about me in the office.

  “Well, Arthur, they are saying lots of things, Irina got you fired, you had an affair with her that blew up, you were trying to steal Just Trade, a conspiratorial cornucopia. Just be glad you are out of there. It’s a horrible place, I wish I had never stepped foot in it.” His empathy was soothing. “Arthur, don’t let her get you down, some women are like that. They get off on driving good people into the ground. Just let her go and one day you’ll be grateful for what she did, trust me.” I prayed he was right, but it didn’t seem possible, at least not then.

  I got home, grabbed a drink and headed up to the roof. I sat where I had sat with her, looked at the chair next to me and saw her there. It all seemed too close, too real to believe that she was not only gone, but gone without a care.