The Pride

by Wallace Ford

  “Jerome, you have a staff of bright young technicians that can help structure the World Bank component of this project. This whole thing has to go from concept to reality. Getting this concept into a format that we can take to the World Bank is something more than a notion. But Jerome, I have a sneaking idea that you and your people could do it.” Jerome never said a word, but I thought I could see undistilled assent in his eyes.

  “I have lost a lot of sleep trying to figure out how I was going to get this done. And, you know what?

  “To tell God’s honest truth, Paul’s idea of the three of us working together was the farthest thing from my mind when we sat down to lunch today. But now I know that it would certainly get my plan off the ground, and I think it would do the same thing for you, Gordon, and for you too, Jerome. I am sure of it!”

  I like to think of myself as being someone who rarely gets carried away, but this was an opportunity of a lifetime. And I wanted to be sure to get my point across. And that afternoon, I was sure that I did.

  At a luncheon punctuated by silences and pregnant pauses, my little talk precipitated one more. The movement of the waiters and busboys had simmered down to a point that was hardly noticeable. The Water Club barely rocked and rolled on its moorings. The winter sun had just about completed its half day’s work.

  Everyone seemed to be momentarily lost in thought, everyone contemplating the dreams and aspirations of the others, wondering what might really be possible if this merger were to make the transition from contemplation to reality. Call it woman’s intuition, call it what you want. I had a very real feeling that day that there was a growing sense that this was one idea that might really work.

  CHAPTER 35

  Diedre

  We’re on the right track now

  All that was left was for somebody to say something to get things moving in the right direction. On that day, that somebody was me.

  “Paul, on behalf of all of us, I have to hand it to you. You have hit the home run of home runs. Jerome, Gordon—unless you feel differently, I think that it’s fair to say that we have the beginnings of a deal. Congratulations to you, and to all of us!” And, with what I recall was a dramatic flourish, I lifted my glass in a toast, as did Jerome, Gordon, and Paul. Even Ray Beard glumly joined in.

  “Paul Taylor, if you can figure out how to merge our three firms so that each of us thinks that we are still the one in charge, you are truly the genius that we think you are. For once you will have earned the exorbitant fees that you usually charge everybody in town. Or was this going to be one of your pro bono projects for which you have become so famous?”

  I think that this was another time that I caught Paul off guard. Things had been so intense and serious that lightening the moment was the right thing to do at that particular time. Everyone laughed. Everyone laughed, except Ray Beard. There was an aura of ill humor about the man that day that I will never forget for many damned good reasons.

  “Diedre, anything that you and this esteemed group of tycoons might consider as compensation for my services would be greatly appreciated by my paternal great-aunt in New Bern, North Carolina.” Paul was smiling, and in the euphoria of the moment I could have sworn that I could see the light dancing in his eyes.

  “Who are you calling a coon?” Gordon chimed in with his typical brand of humor, but again, the lightness of the moment carried even his heavy humor and we all laughed again.

  The euphoria eased into reality, and it was not surprising that at a table with one lawyer and four bankers they would get back to pragmatics once more, no matter how high spirits might be soaring. Our collective attention centered once again on the task at hand and that alone. After all, it was getting late, and since we were of one mind with respect to Paul’s idea, there was no need for more small talk.

  We agreed that, as Gordon had suggested, Paul would get a draft Memorandum of Understanding out to us within two weeks. We also agreed, business being business, that we would send retainer checks to Paul and that he would have a new client, “Project DGJ,” and that he would bill for work on this proposed merger.

  Jerome came up with the idea that we should each outline our respective cooperative projects and circulate them as soon as possible. This way, when we got back together we could actually come up with some plans of action to see if this thing could really work and how we could practically and actually contribute to the success of the specific projects that had been mentioned during our luncheon.

  “When we meet again why don’t all of you come to my place for dinner? As this whole thing moves along, the fewer people who know about it, the better. Meeting privately will keep the rumble on the grapevine to a dull roar.”

  Everyone immediately understood that I was right. Even though we were comfortable with many of our friends and colleagues, there was no good reason to broadcast our plans at this point. Nothing good could come of that.

  Also, it became clear to all of us that even though we all knew each other well enough we had to treat this entire matter just as we would treat it with people that we didn’t know. That meant formally scheduling meetings and keeping to commitments to complete assignments in advance of the meetings. We all knew the drill.

  The luncheon meeting was now drawing to a close. As Paul settled the bill, we all took a few moments to consider the path that we had chosen. It was a sobering thought. And that was when Paul proposed a final toast.

  “Diedre, Gordon, Jerome, Ray, if I can be serious for just a few more minutes.”

  “Paul, you’re killing us! Goddamn! Is there any way we can get out of this? We already agreed to pay your ass.” It was Gordon again, of course. But he was speaking with what passed for good humor and Paul pressed on.

  “I want to thank all of you for truly listening to me and for taking my suggestion seriously. I had no idea how all of you might react to this, and I am truly gratified , and to tell the truth, I am more than a bit humbled by it.

  “If I was really smart I would know how this was going to turn out. As it is, I know that with your three firms, we have a chance to make history and see something spectacular take place. So, here’s to all of you … and history.”

  Probably for one of the few times in his life, Gordon didn’t have a smart remark. We all toasted, finished our drinks, and it was time for us to go.

  In settling his bill, Paul had asked Buzzy O’Keefe to arrange for a couple of cars—one to take Jerome, Ray, and Gordon downtown, the other for Paul and I to go to our respective midtown offices.

  It was now getting close to half past three and we all wanted to get back to our offices to get some work done before the end of the day. Since we all knew each other well enough, there was no need for formality in bidding each other farewell. Within a few moments, hats and coats were collected, goodbyes were said and the luncheon party split up into two cars and departed, one car going to midtown, the other heading to Wall Street.

  As Paul and I settled into the backseat of the car there was not much to say. I can’t speak for Paul, but I truly wanted to savor the moment. I think that he did too.

  Between Winner’s memorial service and the luncheon and the incredible plans that were discussed, it was a day that I will never forget. And, as it turned out, it was a day that changed my life. Forever.

  CHAPTER 36

  Gordon

  Slipping into darkness

  Drugs have been a part of my life for over two decades. Of course I should be clear. Not all drugs. Cocaine and marijuana are the only drugs that I use. That is, along with alcohol and an occasional cigar.

  When I say they are a part of my life, I mean that getting high whenever time and circumstance permit is a part of what I do. I can’t remember the last time I attended a business meeting when I was seriously under the influence of any of that, but there have been more than a few mornings where the night before was not a faint memory.

  I have always thought that all of this talk about “drugs” is just that much bullshit,
since I don’t know what the difference is between a shot of whiskey or a couple of lines of Colombia’s best. The only difference I am aware of is that one is legal and one is not. Of course, seventy years ago, alcohol was illegal and cocaine was not. So go figure.

  The way I see it, what I do when I am not on duty is nobody’s fucking business. Actually, its no one’s fucking business what I do, period. I started getting high in college. And I have been getting high ever since. And nobody has ever given me a good enough reason to stop.

  I don’t even want to think about whether I am “dependent” or “addicted” or a “habitual user.” Basically I do what I want to do when I want to do it. I don’t get high every day, and have never had a desire to do so. I have gone months without even taking a drink or a joint or a line, but what the fuck does that prove?

  Life is too short and I can never have enough good times. So, when I get a chance to get some smoke and some coke and get crazy with a couple of freak bitches, you can bet your fucking ass that I am going to jump on it with all four feet.

  I do find it interesting that I have found a new friend over the past few years when I get high on coke. I call him the Dark Lord.

  I find that after running through a few grams of blow in a night, my mood changes drastically. That is when the Dark Lord comes out and hangs around with me through the night. He doesn’t leave me until all the coke is gone and I can’t get him to go away. The more coke I put up my nose, the longer he stays around.

  But when he goes away I don’t give a fuck about the Dark Lord anymore and I will get my man to drop off another half ounce with the doorman at my co-op on Park Avenue. And the Dark Lord will be waiting to meet me again.

  And there is always a next time. Some people smoke cigarettes, some drink bourbon, some eat Oreo cookies. I do coke and reefer. What the fuck. I have kicked too much ass in my life for me to worry about what anyone might think.

  As I sat in the car with my man Jerome Hardaway that day, there was a fucking carnival running through my head. Paul had really blown my mind with his merger idea, and to tell the truth, the more that I thought about it, the more it made sense. Frankly, I never would have suggested something like this. I also know that no one would ever go along with it if I had.

  But now the concept was on the table and everyone had to acknowledge its power and potential. I just had to figure out how to make all of this shit work for me. Gordon Perkins always comes out ahead. That’s my first and only rule.

  I had originally planned to fuck this knucklehead “aspiring actress” that afternoon, but when the lunch ran into overtime, that plan was pretty much blown to hell. No matter, the last thing I have to worry about is getting some pussy.

  Hell, I have money, my own company, and my own time and a dumb-ass wife who knows better than to so much as think about giving me static about what I do and where I go. Besides, I was glad to have a chance to spend some private time with Jerome. I am probably one of the few people in the crowd that Paul calls “The Pride” who knows that with all of his refined ways, Jerome has a lot of street in him.

  We were out drinking one night, and he let it slip that he used to run with a gang in North Philly while he was in high school. It was only one of those “save the inner-city youth” programs that got him to Yale and all of the good things that resulted in the persona that is now known as the esteemed and respected Jerome Hardaway.

  That night he told me about the gangbanging and gunfights that were a part of in his early days. While he did not say it in so many words, I gathered that Jerome had kicked much ass in his Philly gang days and that he was not so high and mighty that he wouldn’t kick ass even today. But I also got the impression that he kept his temper and his street tendencies on a very short leash. I have always been impressed by Jerome’s personal control.

  That kind of self-control has just never been a strong part of my life. Obviously, I have always been able to set goals and accomplish them. But I have always gone out of my way to indulge myself when I have felt like it—liquor, women, drugs—whatever the fuck I have felt like doing, I have done. And will keep doing. I just wish that I could keep that goddamn Dark Lord from fucking with me so goddamn much.

  “So, Gordon, what do you think of all of this? Are you really in on this deal?” said Jerome.

  “Shit yeah! Paul is one smart motherfucker.”

  “I think you’re right. But there’s a lot that we all have to give up if this is going to work. We are going to have to share control. Do you really think that we can all do that, Gordon?”

  “I can do anything that I need to do if it’s going to make me money. After all, we aren’t talking about some run of the mill Mickey Mouse motherfuckers here. You and Diedre are top of the line. You know me. Everybody knows what I can do and what I will do to anyone that fucks with me.

  “I know that if we get together we will have one bad motherfucking firm. After all, we already are three bad motherfuckers.”

  Jerome smiled and I could tell that he knew that I was right and that he agreed, although he would probably choose a slightly different vocabulary. We both sat back for a minute and since we had known each other for so long, we didn’t have a lot to say at that moment.

  As a matter of fact we both used our cell phones to check with our offices for messages. Nothing spectacular was going on. As we headed down the FDR Drive towards the Wall Street district we were both pretty much talked out. That’s when, after a few quiet moments, Jerome spoke again, and with his words he woke up the Dark Lord.

  “I hope that you and Kenitra enjoyed being out on the Island last weekend. I wish that Charmaine and I knew that you two were coming out. Maybe next time we can have dinner or drinks.”

  “What?”

  “I almost forgot that Charmaine mentioned that she saw your car in the driveway of your house out in Sag Harbor. But believe me, I know how it is, sometimes we leave the children with neighbors, and Charmaine and I go out there and we don’t see anybody.”

  I could feel the blood start to freeze in my brain. I remember the chilled feeling that I got only when the Dark Lord paid me a visit. I just didn’t expect him in the backseat of a limo that afternoon. Especially since there was no cocaine around. This was something new.

  Jerome just kept talking. I am positive that he was oblivious to my reaction. He could not possibly have known that the Dark Lord had joined us for the rest of the ride, and the rest of my day and night.

  “You know, we really enjoy Sag Harbor in the winter with the snow, the ice, and the quiet. I never thought of you as a peace-and-quiet man, Gordon. Let us know the next time. O.K.?”

  “Sure, Jerome. Next time I will be sure to get in touch. It will be great to see Charmaine. No shit, she really is a great woman. She clearly has bad judgment to be with a sorry motherfucker like you, but aside from that, she is absolutely a wonderful woman.”

  We both laughed at my little bit of bullshit and that was just about that. Except for the fact that the Dark Lord was kind enough to remind me that the previous weekend I was in Los Angeles fucking a couple of actresses whose names you would know, one black and one Asian. Those two bitches, a suite at The Mondrian, a case of champagne and a bag of coke, you can be goddamned sure I remembered where I was that previous weekend.

  CHAPTER 37

  Gordon

  Life’s little pleasures

  I was goddamn sure that I was not in fucking Sag Harbor that weekend. And I was sure that my fucking whore bitch of a wife Kenitra had told me that she had stayed at our place on Park Avenue with the flu. She hadn’t mentioned a motherfucking thing about going out to goddamn Sag Harbor.

  The Dark Lord helped me pole-vault immediately to the conclusion that if that fucking bitch would lie about where she was that weekend, then sure as shit she was lying about a lot more than her whereabouts. Like if she was fucking around, spending my money on some broke dick hustler motherfucker … who knows what the fuck she has been doing? The Dark Lord was kind eno
ugh to mention that she might have been selling pussy. I remember him mentioning that she might be giving head in the men’s room at the Harvard Club. How the fuck would I know?

  I felt the anger start to rise and then magically evanesce into some universe that I would never see. I felt fine. Everything was very clear. We were pulling up to Jerome’s offices on Broad Street.

  “You know, Jerome, I am sure that we will be getting together a lot more in the future. Paul’s plan can work I am sure of that, all bullshit aside.”

  “Well, you know I am going to do all that I can to make it work. This is going to be one hell of a year, Gordon!”

  “That’s for sure. Have a good rest of the day, Jerome. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

  We shook hands as Jerome got out of the car and he headed into his office. That’s when I let the driver know that there was a change in plans. We would not be going to my offices in the World Financial Center. Instead we would be going to my apartment at Park Avenue and East 72nd Street.

  That’s when the Dark Lord whispered a suggestion to me. I used my cell phone and made a certain call to a certain number at a certain address in Greenwich Village. I always carry a good bit of cash and within minutes I had the half ounce of pure Colombian cocaine that I suddenly wanted more than usual. I am sure that the driver didn’t notice that my nose was starting to run and that I was getting a little jumpy.

  But I wanted the coke and now I wanted the Dark Lord to be with me when I had a very special conversation with that bitch-wife of mine. I wanted to be in a very proper frame of mind. Beating her would not be enough. That would be the dessert for the meal that I had planned for her.

  I have beaten Kenitra many times, sometimes a slap, sometimes I have had to punch the shit out of her when she just would not get out of my face. Never in her face, though. Never. She is a pretty motherfucker and I have always enjoyed making her give me some head after I beat all the bullshit out of her. The only thing that she understands is total and absolute domination and humiliation.