Manipulate

by Wes Lowe

  For the next forty-five minutes, Queenie made her impassioned pitch to the group about her concept of combining the arts, education and professionalism. She told of her visits to Pittsburgh’s Manchester Bidwell Corporation and how inspired she was by the vision of its founder, Bill Strickland.

  Queenie was in her element, poised, confident and knowledgeable. During Queenie’s presentation, Noah occasionally nodded. Olivia noted with amusement that, at those times, the suits nodded as well.

  “Wouldn’t it be fabulous for a new grad of the New Amsterdam Arts Center to put on her resume that she worked with some of the best recording artists in putting out chart-topping music? Or to be given the opportunity to be signed themselves to the New Amsterdam label?”

  Noah and Olivia clapped enthusiastically while Byron’s, Jeff’s and Leonard’s was polite but restrained.

  “And that, gentlemen, concludes my presentation. One hundred fifty million dollars will buy all the equipment, five floors in the Vector Building and keep us operational for seven years, which will give us enough time to establish our reputation and donor base. The Skyscape studio on the twelfth floor is presently a proper working, in-demand recording studio. We’re currently working on changing the eleventh floor into classrooms and studio labs, a process that will take another six months,” said Queenie. “The other three floors will take a year and a half to develop.”

  Byron inhaled deeply as he tapped his fingers on the table, first rapidly, then slowing to a stop. “Your presentation was very good, Queenie. However, there are several problems. First, you still have no track record at all in delivering what you promise. Second, we do not fund start-up charities. There has to be a track record of donor support and operational ability.”

  Queenie’s emotion was clear in her voice. “But we just need a chance. The kids need a chance.”

  “I realize that, but you must understand our position. At heart, you are a musical entrepreneur, Queenie, not a manager of people, officials, bureaucrats, and paperwork. The other matter is, and please forgive me for being blunt, our shareholders would think that from the way you dress and present yourself, you were more prostitute than professional.”

  “I… I…” stuttered Queenie, devastated at the humiliation.

  Olivia jumped in with a smile. “That’s where I come in. I have a law degree from Harvard that I’m sure your shareholders would respect. Practically, I was tutored by my late father, Garret Southam, one of Asia’s most prominent lawyers. Through him, I gained not only an understanding of real estate and business, but the operation of charities. When Noah’s parents were killed, my father made sure their work continued by establishing and being on the board of the Kowloon Christian Academy. My interest in young people led me to help found the Chad Huang Foundation where contracts, handling bureaucracy and management of funds were my prime responsibility. The only reason I left was to accept the vice presidential position at the New Amsterdam Arts Center. Why would I leave a well-funded foundation to be part of an organization that is barely more than a start-up? Well, that’s because I want to be with an organization that shares the same goals as the Chad Huang Foundation but has a focus on the arts. While basketball, martial arts and sports in general are the Chad Huang Foundation’s wheelhouse, I must admit I’m not a jock. The arts are my passion and that’s where I want to spend my energies. While Queenie will handle the artistic side of the New Amsterdam Arts Center, I will handle all legal, administrative and financial transactions and negotiations.”

  “But are you able to attract donors? We don’t like to give ‘first in’ money,” said Byron. “Moreover, your budget of one hundred and fifty million dollars is unrealistic for our organization to fund solely, especially given your lack of track record.”

  Queenie didn’t miss a beat. “We could lower it but that would mean we would have to compromise somewhere.”

  “If you could do that, we are willing to consider giving your organization a hundred-thousand-dollar loan.”

  Noah had been biting his tongue the whole time. Listening to these blowhard penny-pinchers reminded him of exactly why he’d formed the Chad Huang Foundation. For years, he and Chad constantly complained that no one would give them the time of day to listen to their great ideas. It was frustrating dealing with idiots like those in the room. Their bullshit meter reading was off the charts.

  Noah put his hand over his mouth to pinch his lips—and hide his smirk. He wasn’t much of a gambler but it was time to play with some pretty high stakes. “Like you,” he said, “I am also here doing my due diligence. When Olivia came here a few weeks ago, she constantly apprised me of the situation and I gave a verbal commitment subject to personal inspection.”

  It was a lie, but they didn’t know it. Noah’s heated glare at the three mickey mousers was chock full of disdain. “I can’t stand guys like you. This is a great idea. The people to put it together are in place, and you want to kill them with bureaucratic bullshit. And, on the off chance you do decide to give them a few bucks, you’re going to constantly monitor them, which will kill off the creative spirit with which this group was founded. I want them to go into this fully funded so they can concentrate on the job they want to do and not worry about the next payments. Forget the hundred grand. You are either going to match the dough we’re putting in or I’m going to call a few of my other friends. They’ll jump at the chance.”

  Jeff, who had been silent so far, spoke up. “I appreciate your enthusiasm and willingness to support the New Amsterdam Arts Center, Mr. Reid. However, please remember, to date we have not had the same kind of ongoing discussion with them as you have had. If the Chad Huang Foundation were in fact to commit support, that confers immediate legitimacy. However, a key component of their application was the purchase of the studio and part of the building it’s housed in. Naturally, we understand real estate, but a recording studio and educational facility are something that none of us know anything about. We would definitely want to see it before we make a decision.”

  “That I can do.” Queenie made a quick phone call. “Good morning, Kenny...yes, I know it’s early but I have some potential donors that would like to examine the studios...5:30 today? Let me check. 5:30?” she asked.

  Queenie saw heads bobbing in agreement. “5:30 is good. See you then.” She clicked off her phone. “That’ll be the end of the business day and, after that, we can have a celebratory dinner.”

  “Noah,” Byron said, “I just want to confirm that I am not wasting my time. If we’re in, you’re in. Is that right?”

  “Absolutely and I’ll add one thing. Even if you’re not in, the Chad Huang Foundation is still good to go. I’m confident we could find another partner or benefactor within two months.”

  “Assuming all goes well, can we cement this by end of today?” asked Byron.

  “That’s why I’m in New York.”

  Queenie rose. “Thank you, gentlemen, for coming. I’ll make sure everything is set up properly.” Turning to Noah and Olivia, she said, “I’ll just be a moment.”

  Queenie escorted Byron, Jeff and Leonard outside the boardroom and closed the door.

  “That went well. We’ll just be assholes and quit now so you’ll have your cash in two months or less,” said Frank with a huge grin.

  “No!” hissed Queenie. “New Amsterdam is total bullshit and I need a million bucks in a week or I’m dead.”

  Frank’s smile vanished. “In that case, we’ll see you again at 5:30.”

  30

  Squeezing

  Queenie walked back in the room and seated herself back in her office chair,

  “Abby called and wants to know if she should show up this afternoon. She was pretty stoked when I told her the news,” said Olivia.

  “Definitely,” said Queenie, an edge embedded in her voice.

  “You sound a little testy, Queenie,” remarked Noah.

  Queenie exploded. “Did you see those old lechers staring Olivia and me? God, I hate that and I h
ate even more that I have to put up with that. Sex sells and the more sex, the better. Do you know what Jeff said when I went outside?” Queenie spoke in a mocking tone. “There’s one way you can improve your chances. And then he winked at me. If Byron didn’t put him in his place, I would have blown up the deal.”

  “That’s a positive sign. He’s the boss and he’s reasonable. Let’s focus on him,” replied Olivia.

  “Did you remember he’s the one that said I looked like a whore? I hate dealing with guys like the Manhattan Investors Syndicate. They know they’ve got me over a barrel.”

  “You want a lot of money, Queenie. They’re just being cautious,” said Olivia, trying to calm not only her but Noah, who she knew felt the same way.

  Queenie slapped the table hard. “You think I’m a bootlicker? Do you want me to get on my hands and knees? Well, I won’t. Period.”

  Olivia inhaled, then addressed Noah. “If they dropped out, would you do it on your own?”

  “Didn’t you hear me say I’d do it? It’s more than a hundred times what we normally commit so that’s why I’d need some time to find a partner,” said Noah.

  “Could you at least consider doing it by ourselves?” appealed Olivia. “The foundation has the money.”

  “Don’t push it, Olivia.”

  Outside the Devonshire, Queenie made a call. She already knew the answer but sometimes miracles happen.

  “Hello,” said Chin.

  “I need seventy-five million dollars fast,” said Queenie.

  “I don’t have that kind of cash to commit.”

  “It’s a temporary loan. I will give it back.”

  “I still don’t have it.”

  “What am I going to do then? Noah’s waffling. He won’t guarantee handing out the cash unless I have someone willing to kick in something as well.”

  Queenie then gave a summary of the meeting and repeated the brief conversation between Noah, Olivia and herself.

  Queenie endured moments of tense silence before Chin uttered, “You have learned valuable information. The money is accessible. Work with that. If you are hunting elephants, use an elephant gun.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “If the situation says you should take no prisoners, you need to have prisoners to start with. And the more valuable the prisoners, the more likely you will get what you want. But don’t kill them. Dead golden geese don’t lay any eggs. You know Noah’s got a soft spot for Olivia. Press that button until the pain is unbearable.” Chin hung up.

  Queenie glared at the phone and ranted at the father who was no longer on the line. “It’s not going to work. Those two are a damn soap opera.”

  She shook her head in frustration. Her old man must be going senile. Those last twenty seconds were a crazy, useless bit of philosophy.

  Okay. Who else has got Noah’s ear?

  She smiled as the answer came. Kids…kids and JJ. Kids she could handle but JJ was dangerous.

  An idea started germinating. Brawn and brain. She’d taken care of the brains part. But the brawn? Frank was okay but he was too long out of the game. Who else? Who else could she lean on?

  Oh, damn. Him again. She made a call. “Alexei, I need a couple of bad asses.”

  The Russian-accented voice responded, “How about, ‘Alexei, how are you doing?’ or ‘Alexei, can you help me please? I know you’re the best….’ You always need something but never give.”

  “You’ll get your cash soon. The shipment’s back on track.”

  “Why don’t you use your lover, Hassan?” sneered Alexei.

  “Because I killed the stinking bastard. So don’t say I never did anything for you. I know you wanted him iced and I just handed his head to you on a platter. Now, when are you going to get me somebody?”

  Queenie heard Alexei growling on the other end of the phone. She knew that he appreciated her getting rid of Hassan. The Moroccan flaunted the studio ownership, taking away the limelight from himself. She also knew about the stupid bet he and Hassan had about getting into her pants. Now that Hassan was out of the way, Alexei would be even more ready to make his move on her.

  She purred, “When I come next week, I’ll pay you back with interest…real interest.”

  Alexei’s response was immediate. “What do you want my men to do?”

  31

  Coincidence? Connection?

  JJ had been in Central Park since 6 a.m. The first two hours were spent by Turtle Pond in mindful meditation. All his life, he had been taught to be righteous, to value nothing of the physical world and to stay sexually pure. But, for some time, these strict values had started battling his evolving inner self.

  While Noah was not the sole reason for his transformation, meeting Noah and being part of his life accelerated the change.

  He was becoming a person of the world.

  His sexuality began awakening when he met Lisa Mah, doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine and snake venomologist. She was part of Noah’s small entourage that brought Master Wu to Heaven and was secretly embedded by King to dupe Noah into revealing the whereabouts of Chin’s stolen funds. Although Lisa tried to kill JJ, eventually she turned into his savior, sucking in the deadly poison of a snake, sacrificing herself to save him after he showed her genuine interest as a woman, something that King never demonstrated.

  At that moment, he knew his days as a monk were over. He had developed a taste for nice clothes and become a voracious consumer of pop culture, especially music, movies and women.

  Meeting Abby in New York introduced a new chapter to JJ’s life. Unlike Lisa, whose attraction was purely physical, there was something more about Abby that he wanted to pursue. Before coming to the park, he searched the internet for “Abby Sung.” There were over a thousand sites to explore so he kept drilling down. Not satisfied with what he was finding, he came to the park to meditate. However, as soon as he stopped the deep reflection, his thoughts of Abby returned.

  Walking toward the park entrance, his eyes were fixed on his cell phone screen. He was astounded at the speed of communication. Someone had already posted pictures of last night’s showcase at Café du Music on Facebook and Instagram. There were images of Abby, Olivia and Benjamin onstage as well as pictures of him, Queenie and Noah seated at their table.

  Then he spotted a disturbing photo. Someone was in a pic that resembled the Samaritan who helped the gorilla after his fight with him. JJ didn’t notice him at Café du Music because the man was facing in the opposite direction and sitting a few tables behind him. While the Samaritan was standing up and clapping, he wasn’t looking at the stage. The objects of his attention were JJ and Noah.

  Was that a coincidence or was there something more? What was the connection? He was so preoccupied that he paid no attention to a couple of street people approaching with their shopping cart. While once upon a time, he might have shown compassion to them, New York was so full of them, they were just part of the scenery.

  That’s exactly what the supposed homeless persons sent by Alexei, Dmitri and Boris hoped for.

  Dmitri retrieved a small iron club hidden beneath the blankets in the cart.

  “You hurt me!” screamed Boris. “Don’t ever do that to me again!”

  JJ, drawn to Boris’ supposed predicament, never noticed the bludgeon in Dmitri’s hand speeding at his head. The harsh blow knocked JJ out.

  Boris and Dmitri quickly stuffed JJ into the cart, covered him with the filthy blankets, and pushed him half a mile to a panel van belonging to Odessa Flowers.

  Meeting at the Devonshire finished and no particular agenda until 5:30, Noah and Olivia ambled down the busy street. Neither of them noticed the designer shops, hot dog stands or people rushing to their next appointments.

  Neither felt like saying a word but Noah had to try. “Olivia, can we talk?”

  “I don’t think so...I...I might cry.”

  “I can listen.” Then a thought struck Noah. “You’ve got someone else?”

  �
�No! How can you even think that?”

  At that moment, Noah flashed on a statement his father often made whenever Noah’s mother had what he felt was an irrational moment. Women are crazy.

  “I don’t jump in bed with just anybody, Noah Reid.” Olivia stopped in the middle of the pavement, trembling. “I lied, Noah. I lied. Being a musician was not only Abby’s dream; it was mine. When Abby and I were on stage at Café du Music the other night… If I had died that night, I would have been happy. And then, to come to the sickening realization that no matter how good I was, it would never be enough... I’m in mourning, Noah.”

  “I’d be happy to work through it with you… I want to work through it with you.”

  She shook her head. “It’s pointless, Noah.”

  Ouch. Noah turned his head away. “Shall I still come at 5:30?”

  “Of course. We need you there. Let’s not mix our personal lives with business.”

  Leaving Noah staring in the opposite direction, Olivia began walking away. The Odessa Flowers van pulled up quietly and stopped beside her. The side door opened and a huge bald guy carrying a bouquet of roses stepped onto the street. When he passed Olivia, he dropped the flowers and quickly put his hand over her mouth.

  As the big man dragged her inside the van, Olivia bit on his hand.

  “Ow!” screamed the thug, taking his hand off Olivia’s mouth for a moment.

  “Noah!” screamed Olivia.

  Noah’s head jerked when he heard Olivia’s voice. He whipped around to see Olivia being yanked inside the van just before the door slammed shut.