by Wallace Ford
And along the way, Domino applied her special brand of genius in hedge fund transactions and other arcane areas of financial services to the Hansley Group. In short order, the very successful firm was even more successful, and to tell the truth, the Hansley Group and Morningstar were soon running neck and neck as the two small investment firms with the brightest futures—regardless of the color of the owners.
Roger and Domino were one of the true power-sharing couples in The Pride, and then something happened. I truly don’t have the time or inclination to keep track of the latest bedroom and backroom adventures, but even I heard the rumors about Domino becoming involved with the twenty-something caretaker of their estate in Jamaica.
Things got really crazy when Roger made an unexpected visit to Negril and encountered Domino and the caretaker naked and embracing in the hot tub, which overlooked the ocean. This led to Roger and Domino separating and living in separate condominiums in Chicago, while tongues nearly wagged out of the heads of the nosy and the curious. And then crazy became just downright bizarre, like something straight out of the supermarket tabloids.
According to some published (and unpublished) reports, Domino brought her Jamaican boy toy back to Chicago. About two weeks after he arrived in the United States and started to get settled, Domino arrived home unexpectedly (here we go again—it’s always good to call ahead, I guess) to find her Jamaican friend entangled in an undeniably romantic position with her (male) hairdresser. Aside from throwing her new friend (and her hairdresser) out of her home, she had her friend deported to Jamaica and braced herself for the inevitable onslaught of embarrassment and gossip.
So, it was in the aftermath of all this madness that Domino suggested that we meet for lunch at Fresco. I arrived at the restaurant early and was sipping a Tio Pepe sherry, chilled with a twist of lemon, having been warmly greeted by a few of the members of the Scotto family who were always there. A few minutes after I settled into my seat with my aperitif, Domino arrived.
One always sensed Domino before actually seeing her. The stirring in the front of the restaurant made me aware that someone special had arrived, and that someone special turned out to be Domino. As she headed toward my table, it seemed that all the eyes in the restaurant were on her.
“Jerome, it’s so good to see you again.” She was as beautiful as ever. She wore a tasteful Donna Karan suit. It was a subtle shade of purple with white piping. Her only accessories were a string of pearls and matching earrings. It was all the accessorizing that she needed. I inhaled that almost-forgotten fragrance of mango and chocolate, and for a moment, I was lost in thoughts that had no business at a business luncheon.
“Domino, the pleasure is mine. I am glad that you were able to squeeze me into your busy calendar.” My attempt at humor was well received, and her smile in response lit up the already-bright room. I helped her into her seat, and she ordered a matching Tio Pepe.
We exchanged pleasantries as we studied our menus. We talked about people who we knew in the world of finance. I told Domino about my sons and about Charmaine’s death, and she offered her sincere sympathy. There was not much point in saying too much about her misadventures with Roger in Jamaica, so we both left that subject alone.
I remember a lot about that luncheon. I ordered a bottle of pinot grigio to go with the oso bucco that Domino ordered and the broiled chicken breast dish I selected. We enjoyed our first glass of wine while continuing the banter and miscellaneous conversation. Then she put down her glass.
“Jerome, it’s so good to see you. But you know that I didn’t want to see you just to look into your eyes.”
“Domino, you’re breaking my heart. But I guess I will have to bear the pain.” We both smiled, although I remember thinking something about the truth sometimes being spoken in jest.
Domino leaned forward in an almost conspiratorial manner. At that moment, I had no idea what she wanted to talk about.
“Jerome, I have a proposal for you. Let’s call it an offer that you can’t refuse.”
CHAPTER 36
Jerome
Dolphin Dance
One thing about Domino Oakley, she didn’t waste a lot of time. What had been a pleasant, meandering conversation suddenly got deadly serious. Her aura transitioned from alluring to sober and serious, totally focused on business.
“Jerome, you are one of the few people to hear this, but I am leaving Roger and resigning from the Hansley Group. Actually, Roger and I have already separated, as I guess most people who care about such things already know.” It was hard not to know about these kinds of things. I have been neither a consumer nor a purveyor of gossip, but the Roger Hansley–Domino Oakley story was a featured item of conversation at most dinners, receptions and cocktail parties attended by members of The Pride. Domino confirmed the broad outline of her separation from Roger, but I had to wonder why she was bothering to tell me all of this. I didn’t have long to wait.
“Since my days at Merrill, thanks to you, by the way”—she flashed those black diamond eyes in my direction, and once again, I felt myself standing in the presence of a force of nature, not sure what was coming next—“since my days at Merrill, I have always done pretty well, and I am not looking to work so hard anymore. But when I leave the Hansley Group at the end of the month, I do intend to still be, shall we say, active. I have thought about starting my own firm, but I really, really like what you and Diedre have been doing with Morningstar. To be frank, Jerome, I would like to join your team.”
The ironic thing is that if she had just stopped right there, she would have been making an offer that would have been very hard to refuse. At the very least, it would have been an offer that I would have had to discuss with Diedre. But then she continued.
“You know what I have done running hedge funds and the kind of results that I have produced with repos and derivatives. What I have done for Merrill and Goldman and the Hansley Group, I can do for Morningstar. But I want to, shall we say, sweeten the pot.”
When Domino had come in, I did not notice that she was carrying a small and stylish Louis Vuitton valise. It was next to her on the banquette on which she was sitting, and from it, she produced a bound report that appeared to be about fifty pages in length. She placed it on the table between us. After a suitably dramatic pause, she continued. I really had no idea what was coming, but when I found out, I could have been knocked over with a feather.
CHAPTER 37
Diedre
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
Even if I am lucky enough to see PJ become an old man, I will never forget that night at New York Hospital. The dramatic scenario laid out by Dr. Krishnamurthy and Kenitra’s fateful decision were enough drama for me, that’s for certain.
But when Gordon was taken off life support, his thrashing and crashing around in the hospital bed was one of the most horrific and terrifying things that I ever hope to see. I didn’t know if he was going to die or live. And I don’t think that the doctors or nurses or anyone else expected anything like what we saw that night.
But the worst part was when Gordon actually regained consciousness. As his eyes started to focus on those of us standing by the window of his room, it was as if a demon was returning to the planet, having just left his home in Hell. He looked at each of us, his gaze moving slowly from one to another, until he fixed a baleful glare on Kenitra, who would have collapsed onto the floor if Sture had not been holding her in his arms.
When he called out to Kenitra, his raspy voice scratched out a sound that chilled all of us and fixed her on the spot for several seconds. And that was when Kenitra’s survival instincts kicked in. The instincts that had kept her alive despite Gordon’s worst depredations and abuse told her to get the hell out of the hospital, and when I saw her run screaming in terror toward the elevators down the hallway, I can honestly say that I could not blame her in the least.
I knew that Kenitra expected Gordon to die. We all did. None of us believed that he was going to die as soon as he wa
s disconnected from all the tubes and wires and monitors, but we were all certain that in a matter of minutes or hours, he would pass on. I guess we thought that, in some way, we were paying our last respects to Gordon. Even though he didn’t really deserve respect, he probably didn’t deserve to die alone in a hospital with no one to note his passing.
And even if Gordon didn’t die, we were all certain that, having been in a coma for almost two years, he would have no functioning brain capacity and would most certainly depart from his mortal existence very soon. One way or another, I was sure that we were witnessing the last days and times of Gordon Perkins.
So, when the bastard didn’t die and then regained consciousness, shock and awe was my first reaction. And when he fixed his eyes on Kenitra and called out her name, my blood ran cold.
I saw Sture running after her, and it would be months before I saw her again, although we did speak from time to time. As she told me later, she had made herself a promise when she gave Dr. Krishnamurthy permission to take Gordon off life support.
She was not going to entertain even a hint of regret over what she thought was the right decision. But she had no idea that Gordon was going to regain consciousness and call her name in that very special way of his.
She later told me that as soon as he called her name, all the memories of the beatings and torture and abuse came flooding back. She felt the sewage of her past life threatening to submerge the sanity and happiness that she had been creating for herself.
She wasn’t afraid that Gordon was going to jump out of that hospital bed and start beating her on the spot (although I must confess that nothing would have surprised me after Gordon revived). She was afraid that being in the presence of a revived and conscious Gordon Perkins would allow him to assert control over her once again. That was a prospect actually worse than death for her, so she ran and she ran.
She ran down the hallway. She ran out of the hospital when the elevator doors opened onto the lobby. And, with Sture in tow, she ran to the Waldorf-Astoria and packed her clothes, checked out and caught the first flight to Los Angeles, running back to her Venice Beach sanctuary.
It was downright noble of Sture to fly out to California with Kenitra as she tried to maintain a slippery grip on her mental equilibrium. Of course, as the manager of Dorothy’s By the Sea, he had to take a red-eye flight back to New York later that day. So Sture joined the rest of us in being absolutely stunned and disoriented during the first days after Gordon’s recovery.
Kenitra later told me that she felt as if she had not taken a single breath from the time that Gordon called her name until she was in her living room in Venice Beach looking out over the Pacific. But although she was breathing, she did not feel safe anymore. She would spend the next few months waiting, wondering and watching out for Gordon.
It was something that she would have in common with the rest of us.
CHAPTER 38
Jerome
Impressions
I don’t know what it was about the fantastic scenario outside Gordon’s hospital room made me recall my luncheon with Domino Oakley. Perhaps it had something to do with the upcoming meeting with Ray Beard that Diedre was arranging. Perhaps it was just my mind wandering away from a distinctly unpleasant circumstance.
Like most people, I had never been too crazy about spending time in hospitals. When I joined my colleagues in attending to the events surrounding Gordon’s situation, it had been my first time in a hospital since Charmaine died. Whatever the case might be, I found myself thinking about the resolution and conclusion of my luncheon with Domino.
“Jerome,” she continued, “I want to add serious value to Morningstar if I am going to come aboard. You know what I can do managing hedge funds and derivatives, but this”—she motioned to the bound document that she had placed on the restaurant table—“is the three-year strategic plan for the Hansley Group. In it are all of the contacts, work plans and timelines that the firm will be using to surpass Morningstar and get it ready to take on the really big firms on Wall Street.”
I am guessing that a look of total shock and surprise must have marched across my face. I also guess that must have been the case because a quizzical, puzzled look appeared on Domino’s lovely face.
“Don’t look so shocked, Saint Jerome.” That comment stung more than a little bit. “I helped to write just about everything in that plan, and I never signed a noncompete agreement with the Hansley Group. Therefore, what I am suggesting is perfectly legal. I have already consulted with my attorney on this. So, what do you say? Do you want me on your team or not?” And with that, she picked up her glass of pinot grigio with an elegantly manicured hand and took a sip while gazing over her glass with a pair of eyes that could make the pope give up celibacy.
To tell the truth, I was absolutely tempted to take Domino up on her offer. It was an offer that I could barely refuse. But I did. Not because of some “Saint Jerome” bullshit self-image. It’s just that I have never played the game that way.
I have always been prepared to outwork and outthink my competition. I have also always believed that if I do my best, nobody will surpass me. I would have jumped at Domino’s offer to come to work with Morningstar in a minute.
She truly had a genius quality that would make her an asset for any firm with which she might associate. And, she had that star quality that you rarely find on Wall Street, and because that quality is so rare, that quality becomes absolutely brilliant when someone who has it shows up.
But being handed the Hansley Group business plan was just too much baggage for me, more baggage than I was prepared to carry into the offices of Morningstar. It was not that I succumbed to an attack of morals. I just never have wanted to win so badly that I would take what I thought to be an unfair advantage. And I thought that taking the Hansley business plan was tantamount to taking an unfair advantage.
Domino continued to look directly into my face, awaiting an answer. I knew what my answer would be. I took a moment to think of what to say.
“Domino, you are so right in saying that this is an offer that I can’t refuse.” She started to smile expectantly. I almost accepted her offer just so I could be assured of seeing that smile every day. “But it’s an offer that I simply cannot accept—at least, not here, not now. You know that with Gordon. . . sidelined, shall we say, Diedre and I share all the important management decisions regarding Morningstar. And, Domino Oakley, your joining the firm would certainly qualify as an important decision.”
Her smile was not so dazzling now. However, it remained in place, although her eyes were now focused upon me in a manner that was suggestive of an archer focusing on the bull’s-eye of a target. It was more than a little unsettling, but I pressed on. I knew that there was no way that I wanted any part of Domino and the Hansley business plan in Morningstar, but I also was not interested in telling her no in such a blunt fashion.
“So, why don’t you hold that thought, and that business plan, and I will take this matter up with Diedre.” For a moment, those archer’s eyes went blank, like a computer monitor that suddenly lost its power source. Then she regained her focus.
“Jerome, if I didn’t know better, I would swear that I was hearing ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you,’ which would really be a shame. It would be a shame, Mr. Hardaway, because I know we would get along very, very well.” The way she said “very, very” made me know that her interest involved more than the Hansley business plan or Morningstar.
I did not perceive her interest with mixed feelings. Charmaine was the love of my life then, and she will always be the love of my life. I know in my heart that I was totally dedicated to her memory for every minute of my life. Nevertheless, there was something about Domino and her attention that made me feel more than special.
Even in the midst of my inner turmoil due to Charmaine’s death and my dislike of Domino’s business tactics, I still found something about Domino Oakley that made me hope that there would be another time and another place,
and at that other time and other place, perhaps I would be the one making the offer that couldn’t be refused.
“I think I understand, Jerome.” Domino’s voice was like a warm glove on a brisk autumn day: just pure pleasure. “But tell me, Jerome, are you familiar with the principles of bifurcation?”
“I certainly know what ‘bifurcation’ means, Domino, but I’m afraid that I’m not familiar with any ‘principles’ associated with the word.”
“Well, Jerome, what I am saying is that perhaps we should bifurcate our relationship.” The way she drew out the word, she suddenly made “bifurcate” one of my favorite words. “You know, we should take our relationship and separate it into two parallel aspects, business and ... well, whatever else may come up in the future. I am sure that you have your reasons for your lack of enthusiasm for my offer, but let me give you some free advice. Don’t ever, ever play poker, because your face will give you away every time.” And then she smiled that magical smile of hers again, and I just knew that I would enjoy bifurcating with Domino someday.
“Domino, thanks for the offer, and I know I must sound like I am out of my mind to even hesitate. But I think your bifurcation idea is certainly one of the best offers that I have ever had, and one that you can be sure I won’t refuse.” We both laughed at that last comment, and what could have been an awkward moment morphed into a pleasant ending to a pleasant luncheon at Fresco by Scotto.
We both had the raspberry–passion fruit gelato. Domino had a cappuccino. I had an espresso. We finished up our encounter with some small talk and the promise to stay in touch so that we could discuss the various aspects of “bifurcation.” And she gave me her card with all of her contact details.
Domino went on to establish a suitably eponymous company, Domino Advisors, a financial advisory firm that had done quite well since our fateful luncheon at Fresco. As for me, I held on to Domino’s card.
