by Stuart Woods
“You should get the finished building in Architectural Digest,” Herbie said. James had been the executive art director for the magazine before going out on his own.
“Good idea,” James said. “There won’t be another building like it in the city. We’ll be doing extensive planting on the roof, too, so the apartment will have gardens on four sides.”
Cookie buzzed Herbie. “Marshall Brennan on line one,” she said.
Herbie pressed the button on the phone. “Hello, Marshall.”
“Good morning, Herbie. I want to take you up on your offer to help me into a new wardrobe.”
“I’d be delighted to help,” Herbie said. “What time?”
“How about right after lunch?”
“All right. Meet me at two o’clock, and we’ll get started.” Herbie gave him an address on Lexington Avenue.
“What is this place? I don’t know any stores in that block.”
“It’s my Chinese tailor. You’ll like his work better than expensive off-the-rack stuff, and it’s no more expensive.”
“All right, I’ll see you there at two. How long will this take?”
“We’ll have a couple of other stops to make, so don’t make any appointments for the rest of the day.”
“Whatever you say.” Marshall hung up.
Herbie had a sandwich at his desk, then took a cab to the tailor’s shop. Marshall simultaneously got out of another cab, and they walked up the stairs together. Herbie introduced him to Sam, the tailor, and they went to a wall of fabric books and a rack of bolts.
“You like lightweight or heavier cloth?” Herbie asked.
“Lightweight. I’m always too hot.”
“Yeah, me too. Let’s look at the Loro Piana and Zegna fabrics. I love the Italian stuff.” Herbie picked fabrics for a dozen suits, a tuxedo, cashmere for a blazer, and four tweeds for jackets and gabardines for trousers. Sam measured Marshall, and Herbie dictated the details of the suits and jackets. They were done in an hour.
“That was quick,” Marshall said.
“You’ll need to come back three times for fittings,” Herbie said. “I know it’s time-consuming, but after that, all you have to do is pick a swatch and Sam can go straight to the finished product, assuming you haven’t gained or lost weight.”
“I still weigh what I weighed when I graduated from Harvard,” Marshall said. “It’s arranged a little differently, though. What’s next?”
“Shirts,” Herbie said, hailing a cab.
“I have to have shirts made, too?”
“You don’t want to let off-the-peg shirts make your suits look bad.” They went into Turnbull & Asser on East Fifty-seventh Street, and Marshall was measured, then Herbie helped him pick two dozen fabrics, then they went downstairs and Herbie picked out two dozen neckties.
“What about shoes?” Marshall said.
“Let’s see if we can get away with ready-made shoes,” Herbie said. They took a cab to Seventy-ninth and Madison, the Ralph Lauren store, where Marshall tried on a lot of shoes. “The workmanship is as good as with custom shoes,” Herbie explained, “as long as they fit properly. And you don’t have to wait for them.” Marshall had ten pairs of shoes sent to his home.
“That’s it,” Herbie said, when they were back on the sidewalk. “In a couple of months you’ll have everything in your closet. I want you to promise me that, after everything is delivered, you’ll throw away every single suit, jacket, shirt, tie, and pair of shoes that you own. The Salvation Army will be glad to see them.”
“I promise,” Marshall said.
“I’ll go with you to your final fitting at Sam’s,” Herbie said.
“Thanks, Herb,” Marshall said. “Oh, I almost forgot: a friend of mine is looking for new legal representation.” He handed Herbie a business card. “His name is Kent Holbrooke. He’s an entrepreneur, into lots of things. Call him.”
“First thing in the morning, Marshall.” Herbie shook his hand and got a cab home, pleased with his day.
27
SHELLEY SWAM slowly into consciousness and found herself in what looked like the guest room in some tasteful person’s home, except for the hospital bed she lay in and the equipment surrounding her, ticking and beeping. A nurse sat at her bedside reading a newspaper. She looked up. “Oh, you’re awake!”
“I seem to be,” Shelley said. “May I have a mirror?”
The nurse laughed. “Oh, you don’t want that,” she said, “at least not yet. You have a bandage across your nose and two black eyes. You look like a raccoon.”
“Swell,” Shelley said. “What do I do now?”
“The doctor will be in in a moment, then you can relax, read, watch TV, or just rest. He’ll discharge you tomorrow morning.”
The doctor came in, smiling. “Everything went perfectly,” he said.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You’ll be out of here in the morning, and by that time I can minimize the dressing.”
“And I’ll look like someone who’s just had a nose job,” Shelley said.
“No, like someone who’s had an accident, maybe in the car.”
“Can I go to the hairdresser’s tomorrow?”
“Of course, as long as you’re feeling up to it.”
“I’m feeling up to it now.”
He patted her on the shoulder. “Just rest today. You’ll feel fine tomorrow, and I’ll give you something for the pain.”
“Pain? You didn’t mention pain!”
“There’s always some pain associated with any surgery, but I’ll give you some medication that will make it go away.”
“Right now I just feel numb all over.”
“That’s normal. Now, if you need the nurse or me, just use your bedside buzzer, and we’ll be here. In any case, I’ll stop by to see you again before I leave the office, around seven.”
“Thank you, Dr. Charles.”
The doctor left, and Shelley drifted off to sleep again.
HERBIE DIALED the number, and a woman with a British accent answered. “The Holbrooke Group, good morning.”
“Kent Holbrooke, please.”
“And who may I say is calling?”
“Herbert Fisher, of Woodman and Weld.”
A moment later, Holbrooke came on the line. “Herb Fisher?”
“That’s me.”
“Marshall Brennan says good things about you.”
“Marshall is my smartest client.”
“We need to get together. Where do you want to do it?”
“If you want to see what we look like, you can come here, otherwise I’m happy to come there or meet you somewhere.”
“There’s nothing to see here except a lot of steel furniture and grubby offices. You’re in the Seagram Building, right?”
“Right.” Herbie gave him the floor number.
“I’ll come over just as soon as the market closes. See ya.” He hung up.
Herbie pressed a button. “Cookie, a Mr. Kent Holbrooke is coming over around four-thirty or five.”
“I’ll stay until we’ve got him settled,” Cookie replied.
“You can ask him if he wants a drink,” Herbie said.
AT FIVE SHARP, Cookie ushered Kent Holbrooke into Herbie’s office, and they shook hands. Holbrooke settled into the sofa.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Cookie asked.
“You got a single-malt scotch?”
“How about Laphroaig?”
“Perfect. No ice, just a splash.”
Cookie made the drink and poured Herbie a Knob Creek, then made her escape.
“Nice office,” Kent said, looking around.
“Thank you.”
“You’re pretty young, Herb. How long have you been a partner at Woodman and Weld?”
“I’m a senior associate, one rung below partner.”
“Oh, right, Marshall mentioned that. I’ve never dealt with a lawyer who wasn’t a partner in his firm.”
“You’ll get more attentio
n and faster results from a hungry senior associate,” Herbie said.
“Good point.”
“Tell me about your business,” Herbie said.
“Businesses. I’m involved in a dozen or fifteen, I keep losing track of how many.”
“How are you typically involved?”
“Sometimes just as a venture capitalist. I prefer that with tech stuff that I don’t have a deep understanding of. Sometimes in partnerships, and sometimes I own the business.”
“Are they all techs?”
“Oh, no. I don’t care what the business is, just as long as it produces profits. For instance, I own a little group of three fancy dry cleaners and laundries called Jasper’s.”
“Then I am your customer,” Herbie said. “You do all my suits and shirts.”
“And they’re all running full blast,” Kent said. “I’m thinking of opening on the Upper West Side.”
“Why don’t you centralize the work and put on a second shift?”
“That’s a thought.”
“And if it’s working so well, why don’t you franchise?” Herbie asked.
Kent looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know anything about franchising,” he said.
“All you need is a law firm that does.”
“Are you a franchising specialist?”
“I’m a generalist. My job is to put together a team of the right people in the firm and liaise between you and them.”
“All right, I’ll put you to work,” Kent said.
“Would you like me to put together a presentation on franchising Jasper’s?”
“Sure, that’s a good start. I understand you’re representing one of Marshall’s start-ups. I’ve got a couple of those that could use some legal and accounting structuring. The techies know everything about tech, and nothing about business.”
Herbie handed him a legal pad. “Give me some names and numbers, and I’ll go see them. Nothing that will conflict with Marshall’s start-up, though.”
Kent took the pad and began writing.
There was a knock at the door, and Bill Eggers walked in. “I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”
“No, come in, Bill, and meet Kent Holbrooke, of the Holbrooke Group.”
They shook hands.
“We’re going to put together a presentation on franchising a group of high-end laundry/dry cleaners called Jasper’s that Kent owns.”
“Of course,” Eggers said. “My wife and I are your clients.”
“I’m liking Woodman and Weld better and better,” Kent said.
28
DINK BRENNAN sat in a circle of chairs and gazed at the seven other people occupying them. They were a mixed bag of people, but they were all well dressed and carefully groomed. Dink’s guess was that this place didn’t take Medicaid.
The psychiatrist ended the session, and an orderly came in and whispered to Dink, “You have a visitor in the main lounge.”
Finally, Dink thought. He had been there a week and was clean of any drug, but they weren’t going to let him out of there so easily, so he was going to have to keep doing business from there.
He walked into the main lounge, which looked more like the lobby of a chic SoHo hotel, and saw Parker Mosely, his roommate at Yale, waiting for him. They shook hands and sat down.
“How they treating you, Dink?” Parker asked.
“About how you’d expect. I’ve blinded them with cooperation. They make us clean our own rooms, and you should see mine: neat as a pin.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I can do it when I want to. Anyway, they seem to look at a neat room as proof of character, so I’ve had a head start since day one.”
“You got a shave and a haircut, too.”
“Yeah, more proof of character. All I had in my blood when they tested it was a little grass. My plan is to make them think my old man overreacted by sending me here, that I don’t really belong. In fact, I’ve already started working on the psychiatrist to get him thinking that the old man is the problem, not me.”
“Smart.” Parker looked around the room casually, then slipped a small book envelope to Dink. “Here’s the cell phone you wanted, and a charger, too. I gave the number to Carson, and she knows not to expect an answer when she calls, just voice mail. I told her you’d get back to her.”
Dink tucked it into his belt, under his shirttail. “Tell her I want to see her here tomorrow. I’ve got something I want her to do.”
“She’ll be here within the hour. She’s driving over from her folks’ house in Washington.”
“Great!”
“How long do you think you’ll be here?”
“My guess is that they’re not going to let me out in less than a month, because they want to make some money before they release me. However, that doesn’t mean we’re out of business. You need to recruit a couple more sellers. I don’t want you selling direct—you’re management, and I don’t want you getting busted. Don’t tell the people you hire your real name, either. I’ll call my connection and set up a delivery for another six kilos.”
“Coke, too?”
“Nah, we’re doing fine with grass.”
“Gotcha,” Parker said. “What else?”
“I want you to call the lawyer that Dad sent to get me in here. His name is Herbert Fisher, at Woodman and Weld. Tell him how well I’m doing and that I expressed a wish to have him visit me as soon as he can manage it.”
“What do you want to see a lawyer for?”
“He’s the key to squaring things with the old man. If I can convince Fisher I’m on the road to a complete recovery, he’ll convince Dad, who would never believe me.”
“Smart move.”
Dink looked up to see Carson walking into the room and looking around. She was wearing a dress her mother must have picked out for her. Her hair was freshly done and she was carrying a Chanel handbag. The girl was the complete actress. He stood up and waved her over.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Carson said, kissing him on the cheek as if she were his sister. “You look wonderful!”
“Sit down, baby,” Dink said, and sat down on the sofa with her. “Parker, you get out of here now, and there’s something else I want you to do.”
“Name it.”
“First of all, I want you to bring my car up here. There’s a gas station at the bottom of the hill, on the outskirts of the village.”
“I saw it.”
“Take the car there and ask them to keep it for me. Pay whatever they want. Leave one key with them, and then bring the other key to me. This is just in case I have to effect an early release from this place.”
“Gotcha,” Parker said. “It’ll be here tomorrow.”
“You can get the car service to pick you up at the filling station and take you back to New Haven.”
“Right.” The two shook hands, and Parker left.
“Come on,” Dink said to Carson, “I want to appear to be giving you the tour.” He led her out of the main lounge into the garden, then showed her the pool, aware that various staff members were keeping an eye on them. They sat in the garden for a while.
“The dress was a nice touch,” Dink said. “The handbag, too.”
“They’re both my mother’s,” Carson said. “Is there somewhere we can go?”
“Yeah, I think the heat’s off for the moment. Come with me.” He walked her slowly toward his cottage, chatting along the way, careful not to seem to be hurrying. He walked her through the living room of the cottage, then into his room, closing the door behind him.
“Does it lock?” Carson asked, pulling the dress over her head. She was naked under it.
Dink put a chair under the doorknob. “We’re okay,” he said, dropping his jeans and pulling the polo shirt over his head. In a flash they were in bed, and for the next half hour Dink devoted himself to pleasing her. When they were done she used the bathroom, then came back and lay down beside him.
“Man, you look good to me,”
Dink said.
“I meant to. I’ve been so horny I couldn’t stand it.” She took him in her mouth and got him started, then pulled him on top of her.
HALF AN HOUR later they lay together, catching their breath. “Are you going to the city anytime soon?” Dink asked.
“I can if you like,” she said. “I can go directly from here and stay at our apartment tonight. The folks will be away for the weekend.”
He wrote down a name and number for her and gave her the slip of paper. “This is the lawyer who Dad got to put me in here. I want you to call him and get together with him. Tell him how well I’m doing and how grateful you are to him for helping me and tell him I’m grateful, too. Then fuck him.”
“Am I going to enjoy this?” she asked.
“He’s a decent-looking guy, about thirty, dresses well, smart.”
“Okay, then I’ll fuck him. What then?”
“See him a couple of times. Get him hooked on you, because I’ve got plans for him. I’ll tell you more later.”
“I’d better enjoy this,” she said.
“Sweetheart, you enjoy sex more than any girl I’ve ever known.”
“You have a point there,” she said.
“You’d better get dressed and get out of here. Try not to be noticed until you’re back at the main lounge. If anybody asks about me, say that I went back to my room for a nap.”
“Okay, baby,” she said, planting a big kiss on him. She slipped the dress over her head, zipped it, fluffed her hair, picked up her bag, and was gone.
Dink hid his new cell phone, then fell asleep.
29
HERBIE FINISHED UP his meeting with the franchise group and asked to see a copy of their presentation before his new client did. Cookie buzzed him.
“Allison on line one,” she said. Allison was Stone’s Woodman & Weld associate who worked out of his house. He had been seeing her for the better part of a year.