by Ira Trivedi
‘Riya, are you kidding? You’re a beautiful girl, and you know how all these older Wall Street men like younger women.’ Ivana’s BlackBerry went off and she answered it instantly. ‘Hey,’ she said in a hushed voice. ‘I’m in the pantry, I’ll be right up, darling.’
‘CrackBerry call girl?’ I joked.
‘It’s this MD, he wants something done right away.’
‘You call your MD darling? And he stays till midnight? That’s nuts! Your group really is messed up.’
‘I call everyone darling, you know that! But this group is messed up, there’s no denying that,’ she said with a sigh. She gave me a quick hug and walked back towards the building. As I watched Ivana walk away, I realized that she had lost that edginess that had made her so attractive. The powerful, sexy Ivana who could get anything she wanted—the best group at Goldstein, any man under the sky, admission into the hippest club in New York. When I first met Ivana, she had been a tigress, strong, beautiful, graceful, exuding a feline sex appeal. One of five children, Ivana had grown up in terror with a drunk and abusive father. Eventually Ivana’s mother moved out, taking all her children, and started a Laundromat. Ivana had worked hard through high school and emerged as a star athlete and student, graduating at the top of her class. She received a full scholarship to go to the University of Chicago where she was majoring in economics and math. Growing up on the streets of New York had made her strong, no one could mess with her … at least I had thought so. I couldn’t believe what had happened to her, and the scary part was that she probably didn’t even realize it.
I walked a few blocks and then hailed a cab, shaken and concerned about Ivana. Was the money really worth all of this? Hell, the money wasn’t even that much to be honest, especially if one took into account the total number of hours we worked. Now that I had reached the halfway mark of the summer I was seriously beginning to wonder what the hype was all about. What was so great about investment banking? Why did everyone want to be a banker? Most of all, what was so damn special about being a Goldstein Girl?
HEY, ANY NEWS? SACHIN
I had been avoiding Sachin like the plague, but he was persistent. My cellphone had been vibrating every few hours for the last few days, and ten missed calls and twenty text messages later, there was no sign of him relenting. A pang of guilt hit me when I saw his latest message. He had been there for me when I had needed him. He had gone all out to get me the job. Was printing out a document to save a friend’s job, his life (and perhaps mine too) really that bad? I picked up the phone.
‘Hey Sachin.’
‘Riya! Dude, I’ve been trying you like crazy. Where’ve you been?’
‘I’m sorry … there’s this deal-closing and I’ve been totally swamped.’
‘Whatever. Listen, what’s the status with Timebom?’ he asked in a hard, unfriendly voice.
‘Uh … well … the file is password protected and …’
He cut me off, ‘Dammit Riya! You owe me. I got you the fucking job for God’s sake. Don’t you understand that this is a matter of my life? I’ll be on the damn streets if this doesn’t work out.’
‘Sach …’
‘I don’t care what you say. There has to be a way.’ He was yelling into the phone now, and I was too shocked to say anything. I heard sniffles and other strange noises on the phone. It couldn’t be …! Was Sachin the bad-ass trader crying? ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a shaky voice. ‘I’m just really stressed out, babe. I’m sorry for screaming at you. But you have to come through with this. You’re my only hope.’
‘Sachin … I’m trying, I really am but the file is password protected and my bitch boss owns it, I don’t know …’
‘It’s not that hard,’ he said quickly. ‘Just try to get on the deal-team. Babe, I gotta go.’ Just as he hung up abruptly I heard two men screaming in the background. What had Sachin got himself into? Now I was really perplexed. He sounded desperate, and all the pressure was on me. The bigger question was, did I really want to put my life on the line? It was illegal and if I ever got caught the consequences would be disastrous. On the other hand, the chances of getting caught were slim, and Sachin was in deep shit. And breaking ties on Wall Street wasn’t a very good idea. In a place where everyone was trying to get ahead of each other you needed someone to look out for you, and Sachin had come through for me with the internship.
I wondered if in this big bad world of Wall Street it was all about fuck or be fucked?
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
It was on a perfect summer night that my dreams came true. I was at the office chewing on gummy bears scouring the Internet for the best nightclubs and restaurants in the city. I scrolled through the nightclub listings thinking of all the cool places that I had never been to and wondered if I would get out of my Excel and PowerPoint rut long enough to live out my banker dreams. I was absorbed in my fantasy of the fabulous New York nights that were awaiting me when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
‘Hey Intern, what’s up?’
It was Jonathan. I tried to keep my cool even though my heart raced. ‘Nothing much, just trying to get some work done.’ When I saw him looking on to my computer screen, I hastily added, ‘and checking out the happenings in the city.’
He grinned, ‘I can see that. What are you doing in the office anyway? You should be out and about, playing.’
‘What can I say? Some of us have to earn a living.’
‘Yeah, right,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘I just dropped by to say bye, I’m heading out now.’
‘All right. See you tomorrow then,’ I tried not to reveal my disappointment; I had hoped that he would stay for a chat.
He was walking towards the elevators, when suddenly I called after him. In my defense I don’t know what had gotten into me. ’Hey Jonathan, wait up, I’m coming …
I’m pretty much done here,’ I fumbled, throwing papers and my phone into my tote bag.
Next to me Kurls was busy poring over an Excel spreadsheet. Seeing the strange look he gave me, I was sure he thought I was the biggest flake ever. I walked quickly to where Jonathan was waiting for me. We took the elevator down. Thankfully there were two other people with us.
I struggled to find something to say to him and then stupidly blurted out, ‘I can’t handle the office any more, especially after spending two hours on CitySearch. There are so many cool places out there that I have never been to.’
‘Yeah it’s always tough in the beginning, you’ll get used to it eventually.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Where are you headed to now?’ Jonathan asked casually.
‘Home.
‘Like the nightclub?’
‘No. Like my apartment.’
‘Oh come on, it’s only midnight, you should go out.’
‘Unfortunately I don’t have a raging social life like you do, so I’m just going to go home, and enjoy the night off,’ I joked.
‘You should really go out, enjoy the city while you’re here! Weren’t you just saying there are all these exciting places you still haven’t been to?’
‘Um … none of my friends are really heading out tonight; but maybe tomorrow night.’
‘Are you taking a car?’ I asked him, motioning to the long line of black cars that stood outside the office waiting to ferry VPs and other senior bankers home.
‘Nah, I live minutes away from here. I think I’ll grab a drink around the corner first.’
‘Oh.’
‘Would you like to come?’
Had he just invited me out?
‘I would love to, but I don’t want to bother you.’ I kicked myself the moment the words left my mouth. Who said stuff like that?! What had gotten into me?
‘You wouldn’t be bothering me at all,’ he said with a smile . .
‘Sure then, but only for a little,’ I said trying to conceal the excitement in my voice.
We walked in silence for a few more minutes as Jonathan tapped away on his phone till we reached the bar on St
one Street, around the corner. We entered the crowded bar, full of bankers in wrinkled suits either recently done with work or just taking a break from work. Jonathan guided me through the crowd towards the bar and ordered a whisky for himself and a Cosmopolitan for me. He remembered my drink.
‘So, how’s it going?’ he asked me with a smile.
It felt a little strange for us to be here like this. It was probably not uncommon for the senior guys to take out the interns, even the girls, but I had such a big crush on Jonathan and … maybe I was deluding myself, but he seemed to really like me.
‘Same old, the summer has really just flown by, I can’t believe we have just about a month left,’ I spoke loudly over the music.
‘Yeah, it does fly by! Smart move for you to do this over the summer. I spent my summers whiling away my time at the tennis courts.’
‘Well, you ended up all right, Mr Youngest-VP-at-Goldstein.’
‘Nah!’ he said with an embarrassed smile. ‘I just got lucky. I was this tennis player who could not make it in the pro, and somehow landed up here.’
‘Aren’t you the modest one!’ I said. Clearly, the vodka was starting to get to me.
‘Hardly,’ he said, draining his glass. He looked at my unfinished drink. ‘Drink up Intern, I’m ordering you another one.’
‘No! Please don’t. I don’t drink very much.’ Alcohol usually unleashed the suppressed flirt in me, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of him.
Jonathan ordered himself a large Jack Daniel’s on the rocks. ‘Are you enjoying your company, Ker-Lih?’
‘He’s nice, but he’s so dull, and he spends his LIFe at work. He makes me feel like a total slacker, and I’m sure the group thinks that about me as well.’
‘Don’t worry about it, everyone has different qualities and the brass knows each person in the group plays a different role.’
‘Well, everyone in our group just does Excel, and it sucks. I was working on a spreadsheet today and Amit threatened to take away my mouse! he told me that I should be able to work on excel with the keyboard alone. It’s crazy,’ I complained.
Jonathan laughed, ‘Amit can be a little … intense. But he’s a good kid, and he’s really good at what he does.’
I took the last sip of my wine. ‘You know, Jonathan, I wanted to be banker more than anything else, but it’s not as exciting as I had thought it would be.’
‘It’s a little dull in the beginning, and you have to work your way up in every job,’ he said kindly. ‘I understand where you’re coming from. My parents do well for themselves, but after blowing away so much on tennis, I needed to do something which paid the bills, and where I could build a career. I met Brian, and I just kept at it.’
’Do you actually like what you do?’
‘It’s not so bad. Maybe I’ll do it for a couple more years for now. Eventually I want to do something in real estate, but I can’t take that risk yet.’ He looked down at my empty glass, ‘Looks like it’s time for refills,’ and turned around to order us drinks.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t get drunk with him again. I was looking around the bar when I saw a familiar face in the crowd. Sean! I hadn’t realized that he wasn’t in the pen when I left. He was the last person I wanted to run into—he was such a gossip queen and if he saw Jonathan and I together it would be bad news. Even from far away I could tell that he was drunk. He was holding on to a girl’s waist and trying to unsuccessfully dance with her. I couldn’t see much of the girl, except that she had bright blonde hair—the kind that was dyed—and a very big behind. I ducked when I saw Sean clumsily turn around. Jonathan came back and I told him with urgency, ‘Jonathan, lets get out of here.’
‘What?’
‘Well … I don’t want to be a pain, but I saw some really annoying interns who I don’t want to run into. Wanna go somewhere else?’
‘Sure, why not?’ He placed our drinks down on the bar and started to leave.
‘Wait,’ I said, and pushed the whisky back in his hand. ‘Let’s finish these on our way down.’
‘Smart!’ he grinned, and he shot back his glass of whisky on our way out.
The bar was a lot more crowded now than when we had first come in so I held on to Jonathan’s shoulders as we made our way down the stairs. There was another smaller bar near the door.
‘Let’s do a shot for the road.’
‘No!’ I protested, ‘it’s a personal policy, I don’t do shots.’
‘Oh come on, just one, I’ll get you an intern shot—baby shot.’
The bartender handed him two shot glasses filled with a creamy brown liquid and he pushed the glass into my hand. I held the liquid to my nose and grimaced.
‘It’s called ice cream, just have it.’
I brought the glass to my lips and tossed it back. It burnt as it went down. ‘Ew! What is this?’ I said wrinkling my nose in disgust.
‘Whisky with Baileys. Not bad, eh?’
‘It’s not bad, it’s terrible!’
The combination of wine, whisky and Baileys was potent. I felt the warmth course through my body, relaxing me. It was a nice, happy feeling. I hadn’t felt like this—sexy, suave, beautiful and confident—in a long time.
‘So what now?’ Jonathan asked me once we were outside.
‘Anything, I’m really easy.’
‘Places around here are probably going to close soon, Wall Street doesn’t have the most happening nightlife. Do you want to go over to my place and have a drink? I live just around the corner.’
‘Uh … sure.’
Even in my tipsy, happy state I knew I was making a mistake. Being tipsy made me do stupid things and going to a guy’s apartment when I was drunk, especially one who was my boss, qualified as idiotic. The wise thing for me to do would be to just go home.
But it was Jonathan and I had fantasized about this moment for the longest time. Didn’t I deserve some excitement in my pathetic intern life? I liked Jonathan, and I wanted him to like me. But why would a guy like Jonathan go for me? He was rich, successful, a Harvard guy, an amazing tennis player—any girl would jump on him. I was just this stupid wannabe banker, who was still in college. There was nothing special about me at all.
Lost in thought, I stumbled which was inevitable given I was tipsy, wearing high heels, and walking on cobblestone. He caught me before I fell, and gave me a concerned look.
‘Are you okay to walk? It’s just a few blocks away. We can take a cab if you want.’
‘Noooo, I’m fine,’ I said with a smile.
Walking was good for me, it would help sober me up. We got to his building, A luxury high-rise on 2 Gold Street. a uniformed doorman opened the door for us and we stepped into the sparkling marble lobby with gold finishes. Fancy—I liked it.
‘What’s up man?’ Jonathan said to the concierge who stood in a red suit behind a marble counter.
‘Good evening, Mr G. You have some laundry waiting,’ he said, pointing to a stack of shirts in the corner.
‘Thanks man.’
Jonathan picked up his shirts and we stepped into the elevator. There was an awkward (or maybe it was a nervous?) silence as he pressed the PH button, and the elevator took us to a long corridor dressed in plush beige carpets. We walked down the hallway, and we stopped outside the penthouse apartment. He opened the door and we entered.
It was gorgeous. Through the glass-panelled corner walls shone the brightly-lit New York skyline. The dark hardwood floors and doors gave the apartment an aura of mystique and sexiness. Minimalistic yet classy.
‘This is nice,’ I said quietly. I sat on the tasteful black leather couch and picked up a copy of GQ, and flipped through the pages, trying to appear cool and nonchalant though I was just about bursting inside.
‘Thanks. Can I get you something to drink?’
‘Just water, please.’
‘Sure?’
I nodded. I was still pretty high from the intoxicating combination of my earlier drinks and I nee
ded to sober down. He dimmed the lights in the living room and turned on some music. Jazz—perfect for the moment. Then, he went over to the small bar near the kitchen, poured himself a whisky, and brought back a glass of water for me. Silence filled the room, and as I shifted on the couch, the leather squeaked softly.
‘All right, time for some TV. Anything you want to watch?’ he asked me.
‘Um, nothing in particular.’
He came and sat down next to me. A little quiver ran through my body. He flipped through the movies available on-demand. ‘Pick one,’ he said.
We went through the list, I picked Ocean’s Eleven. It seemed like a movie Jonathan would like. He pressed play. I shifted closer to him and put my head on his shoulder. It was hard and I wasn’t very comfortable, but I stayed. I felt his muscles twitch under the weight of my head. As he stroked my hair and then my arm, I began to feel drowsy and closed my eyes. He massaged one of my shoulders and then put his hand down the back of my shirt and stroked my back. It felt so good, I didn’t stop him.
‘Should we move to the bedroom?’ he whispered in my ear.
‘No, I’m good here,’ I murmured sleepily.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay, if you say so,’ he said.
I could have moved away, I probably should have, but I didn’t want to. It happened like a dream. He put the remote on the table next to him and slowly leaned towards me placing one hand on my cheek, and the other on my knee. I held my breath; he was going to kiss me. I opened my mouth slightly, closing my eyes in anticipation. His lips grazed mine for a moment—they were so soft—and then he gently kissed me, his hand squeezing my thigh. It felt wonderful, his closeness, the warmth of his body, his tongue. I don’t know how long we lay on that sofa kissing each other, while he stroked my back, arms and thighs, never going beyond what was appropriate, and not once did I feel uncomfortable. I’m not sure when I fell sleep, but I vaguely remember waking up sometime later with the taste of his kisses on my lips, a pillow under my head and a soft blanket which smelt of him covering me.