The Pride

by Wallace Ford

  “One wish? My one wish would be that I could put this pain, this loss, this feeling, in some kind of place so that I could live my life. I know that Samantha would want me to live my life. She told me so several times in the weeks before she died. I just haven’t been able to move on, at least not yet.

  “I should be popping champagne bottles and cake-walking up and down this beach. You know how hard I worked on this deal.

  “What you cannot know is how much I believe in what the three of you can accomplish. I have lived, slept and eaten this deal for the past six months. Even through Samantha’s illness and death. I should be jumping for joy. But there’s not much chance of that happening.”

  We could see the gleaming beacon of the lights of Gordon’s mansion as we continued along the beach.

  CHAPTER 76

  Diedre

  Once I had a secret love …

  “Paul, listen to me. And listen well. You are just experiencing the phenomenon of being human. You are so used to thinking you are superman that you think you have to be superman all the time. And sometimes you have a hard time dealing with what is perfectly natural and perfectly human.

  “Unfortunately, people we love die. Unfortunately, it hurts. That pain does not go away in a day or a week. And, if the truth be told, the pain never goes away completely. But most people find a way to move on.

  “And you are more fortunate than most people in this situation.”

  “How is that?”

  By now we were at the steps leading back to the deck. We paused to savor the sea, the night air, and each other.

  “You are not alone.” There, I said it. And I swear that I meant it. I just didn’t mean to say it.

  That was the last thing that I clearly remember about that evening. Neither of our recollections would be crystal clear. I do remember putting my cognac glass on the railing at about the same time that Paul did.

  And then I pressed myself against him and kissed him like it was the end of the world and the beginning of the universe. At that moment I really felt that way. It was as if someone had ignited dynamite around both of our hearts and souls. The explosion was immense, and undeniable.

  I could tell that he felt the passion and the warmth. And I could tell that he felt something else. And he also held on to me as if nothing else in the world mattered.

  And for the next few hours, nothing did. I remember kisses and lips and fingers and thighs and breasts and shudders and groans and tongues and arms and legs and moans and a warm wetness that seemed eternal.

  We awoke in each other’s arms in Paul’s suite of rooms. It was still before dawn. There was only the everlasting sound of the rolling sea. For a moment or two there was nothing to say.

  “Diedre, did you make a mistake and wind up in the wrong room? Are you trying to get fresh with me?”

  “Be quiet and pleasure me, you Mandingo warrior.” It was a throwaway line from an old movie. But I meant it. And we both laughed as we embraced and made love again and again. And my world would never be the same again.

  Afterward we giggled like teenagers in the backseat of Dad’s car. And we tried to figure out the logistics of my getting back to my bedroom without drawing attention to the fact that I had been sleeping with Paul. And then we decided that we really didn’t give a good goddamn what anyone thought. We were happy and comfortable with that. And that was enough for the moment. Tomorrow would always take care of itself anyway.

  I kissed Paul one last time before going to my bedroom suite. We had already decided that it would not be for the last time. We would stay for the beginning of Gordon’s party on Saturday and then go back to Manhattan for a quiet and romantic end to the holiday weekend.

  And I couldn’t wait. I don’t know what miracle blessed us, but I was so happy that I could make Paul happy, happier than he had ever been with me before. And his response had been pure affection and passion. It was just what I needed. It was just what we needed.

  CHAPTER 77

  Paul

  Now I shout it to the highest hills

  Kenitra joined Gordon, Diedre, and me for breakfast. It was the first time that I really had gotten a really good look at her since Winner’s memorial service. She didn’t look like she had been suffering in her marriage to Gordon. Of course, the long sleeves and turtleneck in early September were clues to possible bruises and abrasions as well as evidence of the true nature of their relationship.

  I had never known her to say much, so it didn’t mean much to me that she was quiet throughout the meal. If I had been paying closer attention, as Diedre would later tell me, I would have seen the eyes of a caged and fearful creature, looking for an escape that just wasn’t there.

  After breakfast there were errands to be completed in Sag Harbor and the Hamptons. Flowers to be bought, incidentals, and who knows what. I gave Diedre the keys to my car and worked on the phone, tying up the loose ends of the merger and making sure that all the documentation was in place for the following Wednesday.

  The plan that Diedre and I had was to have lunch on Gordon’s yacht, a seventy-foot cruiser that would give us a glorious view of Long Island Sound. Unfortunately, there was a slim chance of a storm, so we decided to lunch on the yacht while docked in the harbor.

  We had a casual lunch on the Ike Turner. Like most days, Gordon had an attitude the day he bought the yacht, so he came up with that name. And anyone who didn’t like it could kiss his black ass.

  The Ike was appointed like a top-of-the-line luxury home. Having lunch on the boat was like dining at the Water Club or Lutece. It was a floating masterpiece of style, taste and comfort, with just the right touch of excess.

  I remember that we lunched on Blue Point oysters and rice and peas and cracked lobster. Gordon had found a wonderful Gavi di Gavi that was just perfect for the meal and the day. The lunch could be described as no less than exquisite, and we all took our time savoring the meal and the moment.

  Through most of the meal we made small talk. We talked about the upcoming mayoral race in New York City, the New York Knicks, Bill Clinton, Nelson Mandela, Michael Jordan, and some truly scurrilous gossip which featured Naomi Campbell, among others. There was a lot of talk about everything and nothing of any real substance.

  I couldn’t help but notice that Gordon seemed different. After that near-fiasco at Diedre’s, he had rarely been seen at any social event. And for a while, when he did show up, he was always jittery, nervous, and apologizing for his “cold.” Lately he just didn’t seem to be on top of his game.

  But sometime in the late spring a different Gordon Perkins started to show up. First of all, he was on time. He didn’t have a “cold” for which he had to apologize. And, he was not the consistently nasty son of a bitch that was his hallmark. He actually seemed to make an effort to be somewhat human at times.

  By the time Labor Day came around, he really wasn’t that bad. He was still the tough guy that you would rather have on your side. But he was definitely palatable, although still an acquired taste on his best days.

  There was no telling what was going on between Kenitra and him, however. They were never expressive in public and no one knew what was really going on behind their closed doors. She just seemed to be more and more withdrawn as if she was always thinking about something else.

  You could still count on Gordon to take the initiative though. As the third bottle of the Gavi di Gavi was served he took a big sip and got ready to take charge. The sunbeams seemed to dance over the waves that lapped and slapped against the Ike.

  “Well folks, I hate to be the one to break the news, but the easy part is now out of the way. And now we are actually going to have to get to work.” He took another sip and kept on talking. We all wanted to know where Gordon was headed this time.

  “I think that it’s a great idea that we have a quiet announcement at the party, maybe about eleven, before people get too carried away with the fun and frolic. But we have to have a more formal, first class announcement next we
ek. What are we going to say then?”

  “Well, for starters, the three of you have to make a final decision on the name for your firm.” I just knew that my job wasn’t finished when those documents had been signed the night before.

  Diedre spoke first. I watched her through eyes made new by the night before and the morning after. I could see that she was still strictly about business when the occasion demanded. And I knew that it was one more thing about her that I could love again.

  “Well, Paul. It seems pretty simple to me. Either we come up with some name like Blackstone or Argyle Tubman-Truth-Bethune Associates, or we use our names in alphabetical order.”

  “Diedre, as a literate member of our new firm I understand that the alphabetical route would put your name first.” It was Jerome’s turn now.

  “I personally don’t have a problem with that, but if we were to come up with a name, what could it be?”

  For about twenty minutes all kinds of names were tossed around. Names like “Chaka Group” and “Ebony Ventures” and “Amistad Finance” are a few that I remember. And then it was time to make a decision—Morningstar Financial Services was the name chosen for the firm. I can’t even begin to go into all of the reasons that were advanced in favor of this decision. I was just glad that a decision was made. Believe me.

  “If all of you can live with Morningstar, I will have the final documents ready for your announcement next Wednesday.” The dream now had a life of its own. And now the dream had a name. I knew that now I had better call Edwina McClure and let her know that the announcement was definitely on and give her the last minute changes like the name of the firm.

  CHAPTER 78

  Paul

  A word with Edwina

  I excused myself and found a phone in the salon. Edwina McClure was perhaps the preeminent black public relations professional in New York City, if not the United States. She was certainly one of the most successful, black or white.

  She had handled matters for Quincy Jones, Michael Jackson, David Dinkins, along with the mayors of Washington, Newark, Los Angeles, and Houston. Her corporate portfolio included at least thirty of the Fortune 100 companies. She handled the sensitive cases and the outrageous ones. When a client wanted the best chance at widespread and favorable publicity, Edwina McClure was always on the short list of publicists to be chosen.

  Edwina would never win the Miss Congeniality Award. But Edwina would always get the job done and she would skewer the stupid, foolish and clearly ignorant reporter who tried to do a hatchet job on one of her clients. In other words, it was a good idea to have Edwina on your side. And she was definitely on the side of Morningstar, thanks to the hefty retainer that had already been deposited into her account by the then-as-yet-unnamed firm.

  I had known Edwina for years and we always maintained a good and pragmatic working relationship. We were never going to send each other valentines, but we also knew that we could play a role in our respective success. And so there was no reason for us not to get along, especially at times like this.

  “Edwina darling, I know that your Labor Day weekend is about to start, but I have some good news for you. The merger is a done deal! Gordon Perkins, Diedre Douglas, and Jerome Hardaway are going to combine their firms. They want to do the announcement at noon on Wednesday in the Rainbow Room.”

  “Paul Taylor, you better thank your lucky stars that I am already on retainer. Calling me on the Friday of Labor Day weekend, you know you should be ashamed of yourself! Even with the retainer, I should tell you to kiss my ass!”

  Edwina never, ever, never held her tongue. She could curse like a Macedonian sailor and reduce a Scythian bandit to tears. She just never seemed to give a damn as to what anyone thought. I just let her words roll by. I had a job to do, and so did she. After all, Emily Post had been dead for years.

  “In that case Edwina, the name of the firm will be Morningstar Financial Services. There are a few major projects of the firm that will be announced at the press conference. One project is in corporate finance-biotech in nature, and the other is in the field of asset management. Diedre, Jerome, and Gordon feel that they are sufficiently sensitive that you don’t need the details until Wednesday morning when I will provide you with the executive summaries.

  “Okay?”

  I knew that at the end of the day Edwina would never let her mouth lose her a dollar. She knew when she needed to just take care of business and this was one of those times.

  “If that’s how it has to be, Paul, my people and I can work with that. We were already working on the draft release and I will fax it to Sag Harbor tonight. I will call you at Gordon’s tomorrow afternoon and we can go over it long before the partying begins.”

  “Sounds fine, Edwina. You are the best! You know that I love you madly.”

  “Paul, I forgot to wear my brown hip boots today. But thanks just the same … but Paul, one thing I need to ask.”

  I had already hung up mentally and I had to force myself to pay attention. After all, business was business and I knew Edwina did not like to just chat.

  “Why are we having the announcement at the Rainbow Room instead of Hue & Me?”

  I had to take a step back. It was a good question. It was a damn good question. Even though the Hue & Me restaurant was another of Edwina’s clients, I knew that she was not speaking simply out of self-interest and double-dipping. There would be a lot of symbolism in having the announcement at this gathering spot of The Pride. Dorothy’s By the Sea really was not set up for such an event, but Hue & Me was.

  Hue & Me was owned and managed by Auburn Hue, a singer/model/actress who enjoyed more success in Europe and South America than she ever did in this country. Auburn, whose real name was Daphne Ann Murphy was from just outside of Birmingham, Alabama . She was as smart as she was beautiful and as shrewd as she was talented.

  I remembered talking with Auburn when she was first kicking around the idea of a restaurant. This was long before I handled her corporate papers and liquor license and ancillary details.

  I remember telling her how absolutely crazy I would get when I would go to a top restaurant in town and be treated in a shabby, half-ass fashion. There were just too many times that my reservation was lost, too many times that I was offered a table by the restroom. The list of slights and wrongs was endless and infernally creative.

  I also remember telling Auburn that I wished that there was a place that I could go to without all of that hassle. This was around the time that the idea for Dorothy’s By the Sea started becoming something more than an idea and turned into a plan.

  Auburn listened. Hue & Me, located in Manhattan’s theater district, was an instant and continuing success. Not only did the members of The Pride patronize her establishment all the time, its proximity to the Broadway shows made it a popular dining spot for all theatergoers, black and white.

  Auburn was absolutely determined that her restaurant would be an elite spot and comfortable. So while it was possible to get fried chicken and macaroni and cheese at Hue & Me, nouvelle cuisine dishes prepared in spectacular fashion were also likely to appear on a menu which Auburn changed daily.

  The wine list was regularly featured in The Wine Spectator and there was always a jazz combo providing a wonderful aural atmosphere.

  As soon as I thought about it I realized that Edwina was right. She had excellent instincts. The Morningstar announcement should be made at Hue & Me. The announcement was important in terms of its impact on the world of finance. But there was additional significance in that a black-owned investment banking firm was signaling to the world that it intended to be a real player in the game as it was played on Wall Street. Having the announcement at one of the preeminent black-owned restaurants in New York City would put a sharper edge on the whole thing.

  “Edwina, when you are right, you are right. Please set it up at Hue & Me. I am sure that Jerome, Gordon, and Diedre will be fine with it. I will tell them as soon as I get off the phone.”

 
; “Ciao, darling. I am glad that you recognize genius when it’s right in front of you.” Edwina and I both chuckled as she threw out that last line and we bid our farewells. There was lots of work to be done and not a moment to be wasted with small talk.

  CHAPTER 79

  Paul

  Ain’t no stopping us now

  As I went through the salon and back to the deck, I had to admit to myself that Edwina McClure had her qualities and, that her place in my personal universe helped to make things a little more interesting. And, since I was not ready to retire and run a piano bar in Anguilla just yet, I could live with having to deal with Edwina and Gordon and Ray and all the other “interesting” members of The Pride.

  But, I never let the thought of that piano bar get too far away. It was a dream that I continue to keep close to my heart, even to this very moment.

  By the time I got back to the table, Gordon, Jerome, and Diedre had been busy. They had been outlining the details of the progress they had made for the Morningstar announcement that would be made the following Wednesday.

  “We should absolutely NOT announce the New Orleans plan. It just won’t help.” Diedre’s was the first voice that I heard as I walked in.

  “Everyone on Wall Street knows that if you are going to make it in municipal finance, you have to pay to play.” Jerome was referring to the common practice of contributing funds to various candidates in order to ultimately have access to deals.

  “It really kills me how the white firms act like the inspector in Casablanca pretending to be shocked that there was gambling going on in Rick’s Café even as he was being handed his take for the night.” Jerome had a very good point, of course.

  “Black firms have come under a hell of a lot of scrutiny as far as this practice is concerned. And it’s a bitch and a goddamned shame. None of us want to be in the spotlight as far as this issue is concerned, so I agree with Diedre, there’s no point in bringing New Orleans up on Wednesday.” Gordon was agreeing with Diedre, the moon and stars were clearly in a peculiar alignment.