by Wallace Ford
We stood in a modified semicircle at the foot of his bed. By now, Gordon was propped up on pillows and sipping through a flexible straw that was placed in a Styrofoam cup full of water and ice chips. Since his resurrection, all of the tubes had been removed and his remaining medical tethers were just a few monitors keeping track of his pulse and heart rate. And for someone who had been in a coma for the better part of three years, he looked remarkably fit.
He had certainly lost weight, and his powerful arms and shoulders seemed diminished somehow. His dark brown complexion was somewhat sallow, and there were deep, dark circles under his eyes. But his eyes glistened with alertness and energy. There was no mistaking it. Gordon Perkins was back. And I remember thinking, “Now what?” We didn’t have long to wait.
“Dr. Krishnamurthy told me that I have been in a coma for the past three years, and that I am lucky to be alive. But the good doctor doesn’t know the half of it.” Gordon’s voice had already lost that raspy, scratchy sound, and amazingly, he was starting to sound very much like his old self. Gordon’s eyes moved from me to Jerome to Paul, the cause for the urgency in his voice and his gaze hard to understand.
“I know that what I did in New Orleans had to cause all of you pain and disappointment. And I couldn’t blame any of you if you never forgave me. What Dr. Krishnamurthy doesn’t know is that, even though I have been in a coma, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about each of you and Morningstar, and how wrong I was to betray your friendship and your trust.”
At that point, you could have colored me stunned. But Gordon wasn’t through yet. He had plenty left in his bag of tricks, and it was then that I could have sworn that I heard his voice crack and quaver.
“Ever since my father died, I have always felt that it was up to me, and only me, to look out for myself. As I guess all of you know, I have had some trouble trusting other people and a lot of trouble in believing in anyone other than myself. I guess that’s something of an understatement.”
That’s when I heard a self-deprecating chuckle as his eyes again reached to each of us in turn.
“That’s why, when Paul came up with the idea of the merger of our firms into what became Morningstar, I believed in the idea more than any of you could know. I really felt that I could be part of a team, a family, and you all know that I put my whole self into making Morningstar a success. At least, that’s what I wanted to do.” With these words, a downcast look came across his face, and I remember thinking that if this was an act, it was worthy of an Oscar, a Tony and an Emmy.
“I can’t explain my behavior in New Orleans. I really don’t know what possessed me to get Ray Beard tangled up in my half-ass plot. And whatever you do, don’t blame Ray. The whole deal in New Orleans was my idea and my fault, my fault alone.” Gordon now stared off into space, as he seemed to be trying to get something off his chest with this full confession.
I have to admit that, along with Paul and Jerome, I was floored, completely taken by surprise. I had no idea where all of this was coming from, and I certainly didn’t know where Gordon was going.
“I don’t know how to explain this, but believe me, I have had a lot of time to think about this. Something just slipped in my brain so that I thought that pulling that stunt in New Orleans made sense. I just couldn’t trust the fact that I had friends, real friends, and that I was truly part of a team. And so, I fucked up. Fucked up big-time.”
At this point in his peroration, I could have sworn that I saw tears welling up in Gordon’s eyes. I just knew that the end of the world had to be around the corner.
“I wouldn’t blame any of you if you turned your back on me now. But I am asking—no, begging—you to give me another chance. If you can find a way to let me be a part of the Morningstar team again, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the wrong that I’ve done.”
It was at this point that I could have been knocked over with a feather. “Gordon Perkins” and “begging” just never belonged in the same sentence in my personal experience.
“It’s a lot to ask and a lot for each of you to think about. But I figure that if a miracle could bring me back to life, then maybe there are a couple of more miracles coming down the road. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you guys. And please, please, tell Kenitra that she doesn’t have to be afraid of me anymore. I want to make my peace with her, too.” Gordon paused to take a sip of ice water through his flexible straw.
It was at this point that I noted that Quincy Holloway and his camera crew were still rolling the videotape and catching Gordon’s revival through the window, without the sound. I remember wondering what on earth Quincy was going to do with all the footage from this night.
“It’s really too much for me to ask much of anything of any of you at this point. But I am asking that you consider my offer. I am prepared to come back to Morningstar under any conditions, financial or otherwise, that the three of you think make sense. I just want to be back on the team, and I will do anything to make that happen. You just name it.”
Paul and Jerome and I exchanged glances. None of us knew what to say at that moment.
Gordon continued. “Again, all I can ask is that you think about it. If the answer is no, I will understand, believe me. But if you can find it in your hearts to let me back on the team, you can be sure that I will bust my ass for you, for all of you, and for Morningstar.”
Being so newly recovered from being in a coma, Gordon quickly became exhausted. His little speech took a lot out of him and he leaned back on the pillows that were propping him up. For a few moments, there was silence in the room, except for the slow and steady beep of the pulse monitor. Paul was the first to speak.
“Gordon, if we are to take you at your word right now, then we have an obligation to each other to be as honest as possible. So, I have got to tell you that it’s going to take more than a bedside conversion to get me to believe that you won’t try to screw us again as soon as you can get back on your feet.” Paul certainly spoke for all of us on that point. And then he continued.
“But there is no denying that you are brilliant, talented and something of a genius when it comes to the world of finance, Gordon. And if—and I say if—you are being straight with us, I certainly would be in favor of at least considering your offer.”
From a business standpoint, Paul was right. But I couldn’t help feeling that we were all missing something. I just couldn’t put my finger on it yet. And then Jerome pitched in.
“Gordon, you have been so wrong in so many ways, it’s hard to know where to begin. Diedre and I have put our careers on the line trying to make Morningstar a success. Everything we own and all of our hopes and aspirations and personal resources are tied up in this firm. I am not about to say yes or no standing here in this hospital room at six o’clock in the morning. But, if you are man enough to admit that you were wrong, I am man enough to discuss your offer with Diedre and Paul. That’s the best I can say right now. If you need an answer right now, then the answer is no. If you can wait a few days, which I guess you can, since your ass is going to be in this hospital for a while, then my answer might change.”
“While I can’t be ‘man’ enough, let me say that I agree with Paul and Jerome. The best that any of us can do is think about everything that you have just said. I’m not inclined to do a damn thing else. I just hope to God you are being sincere for once in your life, Gordon. The way I see it, if almost dying and being in a coma for three years can’t change you, then nothing ever will.”
The evening and now the morning had produced an unbelievable series of events, culminating in Gordon’s revival and renewal. I found myself thinking that if it were true, wonders really never ceased.
We told Gordon that we would be back to see him in two days, and Paul went to get PJ from his borrowed bed. As we left the hospital to go home, Paul and Jerome and I agreed that we would meet later that day to consider Gordon’s offer.
Looking back, I think
that we were all intrigued by Gordon’s transformation, and that we all wanted to believe him, on some level.
As we left his room, Gordon thanked us and seemed to drift off to sleep with an indecipherable smile on his face, and Quincy Holloway’s camera crew shut off the lights. I am guessing that they had enough footage for whatever bright idea that little hustler had in mind.
CHAPTER 43
Jerome
Our Love Is Here to Stay
That night at the hospital with Gordon had to be one of the strangest of my life. To this day, I can’t decide what was the most bizarre aspect—Gordon returning from the dead or his humble act of contrition. His proposal to return to Morningstar was simply off the charts.
As I drove home to get the boys ready for school and to change so that I could get into the office, I tried to review the events of the past few hours to try to get a handle on what I was going to do. I began with that phone call and the drive down to the hospital.
I realized that I had fully expected Gordon to die that night so I had never really considered other options. Since Gordon had almost killed himself during the New Orleans Fiasco, there had never been a need to consider any kind of revenge, vengeance or punishment. That is, except for the occasional fleeting thought about going to New York Hospital and standing on his oxygen hose.
Now, Gordon was back. He was alive and wanted to be part of the Morningstar team. From a purely business standpoint, there was a way in which Gordon’s proposal made sense. There was no denying his brilliance—indeed, his genius—when it came to matters of finance. And even though many of his contacts may have moved on during his three years of imposed hibernation, there was no doubt in my mind that he would be a major asset to the firm. If—and it was a huge “if ”—he could be trusted.
Diedre had pointed out that damn-near dying and being in a coma would change just about anybody. But Gordon was not just anybody. It was almost counterintuitive to think about having Gordon rejoin Morningstar. But there was another point of view.
Paul mentioned the old adage about keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer. No matter what Gordon’s real motives for rejoining Morningstar might be, it was hard to argue against the idea of keeping him under watch all the time. And clearly, it would be easier to do that if he was working with us instead of plotting and scheming against us from someplace else.
It was a hell of a logical process. But it made sense in a weird sort of way. I gave Diedre and Paul and their son a ride back to their home in Harlem. It had been a long evening, turning into what was going to be a long day. There was going to be lots to talk about and lots to do, but during the ride uptown, we sat in silence, each of us, in our own way, trying to absorb the import of the events of the past few hours.
Since it was not yet seven in the morning, traffic was still pretty sparse, and we arrived at Paul and Diedre’s Harlem town house in short order. I got out of the car to open the door for Diedre and to help Paul maneuver out of the backseat.
“I guess we have a lot to talk about later today.” Diedre, with her typical understatement, sounded as drained and exhausted as I felt. But I knew that she was right.
“I have some meetings outside of the office later this morning, and then I have to speak at a New York City Partnership luncheon. Let’s plan to meet at four.”
“Sounds about right to me. I couldn’t make it any earlier in any event,” Paul called over his shoulder (PJ’s head was occupying the other shoulder) as he went up the stairs to the front door of his town house.
“We certainly do have a lot to talk about, so I guess we all have to give this some thought between now and then. Try to have a good rest of the day, and I will see you later.”
“Drive safely, Jerome.”
“Thanks, Diedre.”
I headed toward Riverside Drive and then on to the West Side Highway heading north to the Henry Hudson Parkway. I listened to 1010 WINS, the twenty-four-hour news radio station, and tried to clear my head by not thinking about anything else for a few moments.
As I wound my car through the thoroughfares of Westchester, I silently voted in favor of Gordon coming back to Morningstar, even though it was certainly a reluctant vote.
I also reminded myself that I had another reconciliation to put into motion, and I speed-dialed Berta’s office voice mail to ask her to set up an appointment with Ray Beard.
And then there was one other item. I was glad of one thing about the night’s events. My mind had wandered to Domino Oakley, and I decided that it was about time that I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. I was glad that I kept her contact details, and I promised myself that I would call her before the end of the day.
CHAPTER 44
Paul
It’s Only a Paper Moon
When we walked out of Gordon’s hospital room, it seemed like a whole series of events started to go into motion in a kind of fast-forward. It’s only now that I can look back on the events that took place during the rest of 2000 and 2001, and sort out the sequence and the importance of what transpired.
But even at the time, from the moment that I started to breathe the fresh morning air of the Upper East Side, I knew there were some major and minor resolutions that were going to evolve over the next few months. And some of those resolutions would have a huge impact on all of our lives.
As a crisp dawn breeze meandered through the canyons of the huge New York Hospital complex, I carried Paul Jr. in my arms with his head resting on my shoulder. He was an amazing little boy. I was convinced that if he was sleeping, the entire Russian Army could march by and he wouldn’t wake up. As a result, during all of the Sturm und Drang in the hospital, PJ never even almost woke up. It was probably just as well that he missed all that drama. Gordon’s revival alone was probably just the kind of experience that could require years of intense therapy in his adult life.
When we got out of Jerome’s car and into the house, Diedre took PJ and carried him up to his bed. He would be out of synch and out of sorts for most of the day, and she called the neighborhood day care center that he attended to let them know that he would be staying home. I also called our housekeeper, who was due to arrive shortly, to let her know that our son would be home.
We both needed to be downtown sooner than later, so there wasn’t a lot of time to review everything that had happened. There wasn’t even time for small talk. Diedre needed to be at the offices of Morningstar, which had recently moved to 9 West 57th Street, one of the more spectacular office buildings in midtown Manhattan, with upper floors that had views of the entire planet. The legendary Reginald Lewis, the leverage buyout firm KKR Financial, and countless other nodes of financial power resided on every floor. Morningstar was on one of the upper floors, and the duplex layout was as spectacular as it was impressive.
My offices were further west on 57th Street, in a decidedly more modest building. Indeed, the only tenant of note in the building that housed my offices was a Japanese massage parlor, Salon de Tokyo, located on the thirteenth floor.
The Salon de Tokyo, which was originally established to cater to expatriate Japanese businessmen, was a discrete and classy establishment that provided a shower, sauna and massage administered by a Japanese or Korean masseuse. I had been patronizing it for almost twenty years, and in that time, I had come to rely upon the soothing and energizing benefits of a well-administered shiatsu massage.
Indeed, a massage would have been just the ticket after the adventures at New York Hospital. But that was just going to have to be a dream deferred. I settled for a quick but intense workout in my basement gym, and showered and dressed as quickly as I could.
By the time I came downstairs to the kitchen, Diedre was also dressed and had just finished brewing a fresh pot of the Kenyan blend of coffee that we both enjoyed. We both sat at the marble counter in the kitchen and sipped the fragrant coffee elixir in silence as we awaited the arrival of Mrs. Bonnemere, our sitter/housekeeper, who hailed from Barbados. Many mornings,
Diedre and I would take the A train downtown. This would be one of those mornings.
“How do we even begin to untangle everything that played out last night—I mean, this morning?” Diedre spoke quietly and firmly and without frustration. I knew that she was already beginning to analyze and strategize, and the thought process that she was about to apply bordered on a type of genius.
Diedre always favored stylish business suits. Today, she was wearing a light cream Givenchy suit with a sky-blue silk blouse. Her only accessory was a tasteful pair of diamond earrings that I had given her for our first anniversary some three years ago. It was hard to believe that our fourth anniversary was coming up soon.
“Well, Diedre, let’s take last night apart and talk about what we know and what we know we must do.” I took a sip of my coffee and debated the wisdom of warming up a couple of calorie- and fat-engorged croissants.
“You’re right, Paul. Let’s mark this day down.” I knew I could always count on Diedre’s rapierlike wit to lighten the moment. And for the moment, I was glad of it. Although many were the times that she spoke her truth in jest.
“Thank you for the compliment, my dear. Now, let’s get down to basics.”
“Well, first there is the eight-hundred-pound gorilla, Gordon Perkins, and his offer to come back to Morningstar.”
“Check. It’s still more than unbelievable to me that we are even having this discussion. But please, continue.” The Croissant Team won the debate, and I put two in the convection oven while Diedre continued her inventory.
“Second, and there is no way you would know this, Ray Beard wants to work for us at Morningstar as well. Monique came to me with the proposition about a week ago, and I passed the idea on to Jerome. He wasn’t too crazy about it at first, to say the least, but he reconsidered, and I think that he will want to bring Ray into the firm on some kind of conditional basis.”
