What You Sow

by Wallace Ford

  As he walked toward me, I could only hope that the shock that I felt didn’t show on my face. I realized that the reason I was standing there holding a phone in my hand asking Berta to help me locate the man standing in front of me was that I absolutely wouldn’t have recognized Ray Beard on the street if he had walked up to me and slapped me in the face. He appearance had changed that much.

  It was more than the loss of weight. It was more than the cane and the beard and the glasses and the ponytail. It was as if he had undergone a complete metamorphosis and become a different person. The self-confidence, the obvious pride, the hubris—all of them were gone. And in their place was a clearly humbled man making his way toward me, leaning heavily on a cane and extending his hand toward me.

  “Long time no see, Jerome.” His smile was a little forced, and I took his extended hand and held it and shook it for what seemed like a full minute before I could speak.

  “Ray, it’s been much too long. Let’s go to my office so that we can talk. I guess it goes without saying that we have a lot to talk about.”

  “That might be the understatement of the year. Thanks for seeing me. You’re right, though. It’s been much too long. Please lead the way. I’m moving a little more slowly these days, but I get to where I need to go.”

  We both smiled, and at that point, it was as if the past three years and the disappointment and dismay and anger and frustration simply flew out the window. We were both three years older and, hopefully, a little wiser, and maybe that’s really what made the difference in the final analysis.

  We walked back to my office, and I headed over to the chairs at the small conference table in the corner, as I thought those chairs might be easier than the sofa for Ray to negotiate. After we both sat down, I poured a glass of ice water for each of us. For a moment, neither of us spoke. While Ray had requested the meeting via his wife, Monique, speaking to Diedre, who had spoken to me, I figured it would be easiest and simplest for me to start what could prove to be an awkward conversation.

  “Ray, we could spend a lot of time getting to the end of this conversation, but I’m going to cut to the chase. You know that Monique spoke to Diedre, and I have to tell you, I was more than surprised to hear that you had even an interest in coming to work at Morningstar. And, to be honest, my first reaction was that I couldn’t see how it could possibly work for you, or for Morningstar or for me.” I could see Ray visibly tense up, and I knew immediately that he thought I was heading in a different direction than I had in mind. There was no need for suspense in this particular scenario, so I got right to the point.

  “Diedre and I had a very long conversation about all of this, and I have given this a lot of thought. We would like to invite you to join Morningstar as a managing director, effective immediately. I think that it’s best that you and Diedre work out the precise financial terms and details, but we will be more than fair because we really want you on the team. You are smart and bright and talented, and we know that your special skills in financial markets will make Morningstar an even stronger firm than it is right now.”

  “Jerome, I ... I don’t know how to thank you enough.” Ray’s voice caught, and I could see that he was visibly overcome with emotion. It was emotion that I could feel as well.

  “Ray, Ray, please don’t thank me. You can believe we are not doing you any favors. Like I said, you are a real talent, and Diedre and I would be the losers if we let an opportunity to bring you on board go by.” I could see Ray start to relax, and a smile began to work its way across his face. “And another thing, and let me just say this. There is no reason for us to go into why you thought it best to leave the firm, and no reason to go into why you linked up with Gordon. I have come to understand that you were pursuing the best opportunity for yourself in starting your own firm. And, as far as Gordon is concerned, well, he just came out of a coma early this morning, and if everything works out, it’s my guess that he is going to be joining Morningstar as soon as his health permits. So, we all need to focus on how we can get this new team working together so that we can all make some money.”

  I could see that the news about Gordon coming out of a coma and joining Morningstar was a shock for Ray. And his surprised reaction approximated the way the rest of The Pride and Wall Street reacted when word started to get around. I could also see that Ray greeted the news that Gordon would also be joining the firm as something of a mixed blessing. But, to his credit, he stayed focused on the outcome that was most important to his interests at that particular point in time.

  “Whew! There’s a lot going on at Morningstar these days, that’s for sure. Jerome, all I can say right now is that I thank you, Monique thanks you and Jerome Russell Beard thanks you.” He spoke the last name with a wink and the first genuine smile I had seen since we shook hands in the reception area.

  “I’m not sure I caught that last part, Ray.”

  “Jerome Russell Beard. That will be the name of our son. Monique will be giving birth to our first child in about four months. We found out about a month ago that it was going to be a boy, and Jerome Russell is the name that we chose. Monique wanted to surprise you after the birth, but I couldn’t help jumping the gun.”

  It was one of those occasions where speechlessness was the only possible reaction. What Ray was telling me, of course, was that he had decided to name his son after me long before he knew that he would be rejoining me at Morningstar. It was a humbling moment, and one that I simply will never forget.

  “Ray, you and Monique honor me in a way that I could never have expected. I hope you know that I have always wished you the very best, and let’s just say that I am sure that our chapter two is going to make chapter one look like buttons and pennies in comparison.”

  We both laughed genuinely, and we finished our conversation with some further talk about how the firm was doing and some of the projects that I thought would be of interest to him. After another thirty minutes of conversation, we wrapped things up, and I escorted Ray through the reception area to the elevator.

  We shook hands and embraced warmly. It was like welcoming back a long lost brother. I was genuinely glad that Ray and I would be working together again, and as we bade farewell and the elevator door closed, I knew that a very good thing had happened. And, it turned out, I was right.

  Ray Beard had lost none of his genius for structuring corporate mergers and acquisitions and various types of creative financings. He quickly enhanced the ability of Morningstar to serve as financial advisor to major companies on all sorts of matters, domestic and international. And as his work became more successful, his strength seemed to return.

  It wasn’t long before he started gaining weight and that prideful carriage began to return as well. After a few months, right about the time his son was born, the beard and the mustache and the ponytail disappeared. But the real transformation came about a year later, when he got some contact lenses and the thick horn-rimmed glasses vanished. And then one day, I noticed something about Ray as he walked into my office. The cane was gone, too.

  Raymond Russell Beard III was back. But that all came later. As the elevator door closed, I had to head back to my office to finish one more item on my list for the day.

  I had promised myself that I would call Domino Oakley before the day ended.

  CHAPTER 51

  Gordon

  Can It Get Any Better?

  My plan for Jerome and Diedre, and therefore for Paul, was really quite simple. I was going to settle for nothing less than the complete downfall and destruction of Morningstar. I wasn’t sure how to make that happen right away, of course. That’s why it was important for me to start working with Morningstar again, to learn everything about the firm and its clients and accounts and strategies.

  It was also important for me to start accessing my secret personal bank accounts because I soon realized that one element of my plan’s success would require me to have my own firm again. But not right away. Even though I had gotten out of the hospi
tal in record time, it was going to take a while for me to regain my full strength. It was also going to take some time for Diedre and Jerome to become truly comfortable with my return to Morningstar.

  I wanted them to be really comfortable. I knew that neither of them would ever truly let down his or her guard when it came to me, but for what I had in mind for them, it really didn’t matter. The day would come when they would realize who the true genius was. The day would come when all of their hopes and dreams would be just ashes at their feet.

  And when that happened, I wanted them to know that it was me who was responsible. Not bad luck. Not a wrong turn of events. I wanted them to know that it was Gordon Perkins who had beaten them, that it was Gordon Perkins who had broken them.

  And while I couldn’t wait for that happy day, I was also prepared to wait and be patient, like a true predator stalking his prey. A true predator is patient and focused. And while I worked at Morningstar every day and also continued my extensive rehabilitation regimen, I stayed patient and focused on Diedre, Jerome, Paul and Morningstar, my true prey.

  When I found out that Ray Beard was joining the firm, it made the scenario all the more delicious. I had been able to turn Ray against his former mentor and the rest of them once before, and I was sure that I could do it again. Once again, I had to bide my time and make sure that I brought him into my plan at the right moment.

  If I brought him in too early, some fucked-up sense of loyalty or guilt might cause him to spill his guts to Jerome and spoil the whole plan. If I told him too late, he might not be able to serve any purpose at all. So I stayed in my patient-predator mode.

  While I was busy with the details of my plan and trying to get back to work at Morningstar, I didn’t have a lot of time to give Kenitra and Sture much thought. It wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve a serious beat-down for leaving me in that fucking hospital for three fucking years. And it wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve another beat-down for fucking Sture and who knows who else.

  But they were going to have to wait. I would have time enough for them after I brought down the House of Morningstar. In the meantime, I asked Paul to send word to Kenitra that there were no hard feelings on my part, that I would leave her alone and that she had nothing to fear from me anymore. And then I hired a private investigator, who was able to find her in Venice Beach after a one-week search.

  I knew that my peace offering to Kenitra would only make her more afraid, and that was good enough for me at that point in time. I knew that any communication from me would have her looking over her shoulder every time she went out and staying up late at night at home thinking that every sound she heard might be me at the door or coming through the window. It was enough for me that she stayed afraid of me. I would take care of her later.

  One puzzling item, however, was my business dealings with Duke. It wasn’t long after I got back to my place on Park Avenue that I established a reliable connection for coke, which was delivered to my apartment by livery cab. It was like ordering pizza. And the Dark Lord started dropping by regularly, helping me to work out my plans for Morningstar, and for Kenitra, and for everybody else who needed to be taught a lesson.

  Soon after I started being able to get around on my own, I suggested early one evening that the Dark Lord and I go up to see Duke at the Purple Dragon. I had heard nothing from him for several weeks, even though I had arranged for my initial investment to be delivered to him as we had agreed.

  So we took a taxi up 125th Street, where the bar was located. I was more than surprised. I was shocked to see that there was no sign of the Purple Dragon. There was only a boarded-up hole in the wall. When we got out of the taxi and asked around, nobody had ever heard of the Purple Dragon. We were told that the bar that used to be where the hole-in-the-wall was located had been called the Purple Manor, but that had been ages ago.

  The Dark Lord and I headed back downtown in silence. He did suggest that we come back later in the evening. I didn’t see what good could come from that plan, so I said good-night to the Dark Lord and went to sleep.

  But damned if he didn’t come back at about two in the morning with my G-Perk gear, right down to the Timberland shoes and gold chains and baseball cap. After I got dressed, we did up about a gram of coke and then went downstairs, where El Steve was waiting in his livery cab. And when we headed up Park Avenue and turned west on 125th Street, we found the Purple Dragon, sitting there as bold as fuck.

  We got out of the car and went inside, and there was Ernie Argentina behind the bar, already starting to pour my favorite Rémy. And there was Duke in the back, seated at a table, almost seeming to have been waiting for my arrival.

  I said my hellos to Ernie and went to the back to sit down with Duke. We shook hands, and he smiled warmly. It was good to be back.

  “Haven’t seen you in a while, G-Perk. Thought you might have gone fishing or something.”

  “No, motherfucker, nothing like that. I just had some other business, that’s all. How is everything?” Duke knew exactly what I meant. I wanted my fucking money. He didn’t disappoint me. There was a shopping bag—Macy’s, as I recall—directly under the table. He slid it toward me, and I saw that there were some old clothes visible on the top.

  “Under those old clothes is your money plus one hundred K. We have been doing great business since you were last here. Are you going to let me buy you a drink?”

  “Nah, that’s cool, Duke. You just keep up the good work.”

  “I heard that, G-Perk!” We high-fived and finished our drinks, and then the Dark Lord and I said good-night to Ernie Argentina and got into El Steve’s Lincoln with three miscellaneous bitches that we picked up at the Purple Dragon. We went back to my apartment on Park Avenue and had a ball for the rest of the night, feeding the bitches cocaine and coming up with the wildest and freakiest shit for them to do. The Dark Lord and I were very creative that night, as I recall. The only thing was, when the Dark Lord and the bitches left and I woke up later in the morning to go down to Morningstar, it seemed as if no one had been there and that I had never gotten out of the bed.

  It was something that I could never quite figure out, even though the same thing would happen over and over. I would go by the Purple Dragon during the day, and there would be nothing there, only the ruins of the Purple Manor. Then I would get up from sleeping in the middle of the night and go to the Purple Dragon as G-Perk accompanied by the Dark Lord and driven by El Steve, and get drinks from Ernie Argentina and do my business with Duke. But when I would awake at home the next morning, it would be as if I had never gone anywhere.

  I didn’t have a lot of time to reflect on these mysteries, however. I had my plans for Jerome, Diedre, Paul and Morningstar to execute. Having Ray Beard would actually make things a little easier. But I was sure of one thing: The days of the House of Morningstar were numbered. I was going to make damn sure of that.

  CHAPTER 52

  Jerome

  No Room for Squares

  By the time that Domino Oakley and I actually went on a date, it was already the summer of 2000. The delay in our first social rendezvous was caused by all the usual reasons. She was busy, and then I was busy. Getting Ray Beard reacquainted with the world of finance was child’s play compared to trying to structure an effective modus operandi when Gordon came to work at Morningstar about six weeks later.

  But we did manage to meet for lunch, both of us deciding that Fresco by Scotto would be a great place to resume our discussion of the principles of bifurcation. And what a discussion it turned out to be.

  Domino came to lunch wearing her almost-blue-black hair up, somehow making her carriage even more erect and regal. She wore a tastefully short skirt, peach in color, as I recall, with a matching pair of heels with straps that snaked up her impossibly long and beautiful legs. A canary yellow blazer, a string of pearls and a nearly sheer beige blouse completed her ensemble, and I was enchanted all over again.

  While waiting for her to arrive at the restaurant, I
felt like a schoolboy on his first date. I didn’t realize how lonely I had been since Charmaine’s death until I had lunch with Domino that warm, sultry afternoon.

  We talked about her new firm, Domino Advisors, and how it was doing quite well. She had just taken up office space in the World Trade Center, and she raved about the wonderful views and its proximity to Wall Street and the World Financial Center. It also sounded as if she had recovered from the bitterness that surrounded her divorce and the misadventure of her Jamaican love affair with the down-low youngster.

  And success suited her just fine. She didn’t just exude beauty. She exhaled the possibility of sensuousness with every breath. We didn’t get very far into our lunch before I found myself wanting to see her for dinner that evening and for breakfast the next morning.

  We talked about the drama and adventures that seemed to stay a part of the Morningstar story. There was, of course, the dramatic resurrection of Gordon. And there was the almost as dramatic return of the prodigal Ray Beard. As we talked about it, I realized that some aspects of the past several months were so fantastic as to be unbelievable. And sometimes, we just had to laugh.

  And then she let her hair down and started to laugh. And the gorgeous jet black hair flowed down to her shoulders. And listening to Domino laugh was, for me, like listening to a gentle brook in a Zen garden. And, to tell the truth, at that moment I wanted to listen to her laugh forever.

  Our luncheon once more concluded with a combination mango–passion fruit gelato, with a slight difference from our previous luncheon. This time, we were sitting side by side, and we shared the gelato from a single cup with two spoons.

  What made her special was that she made me feel special in a way that I had just about forgotten. There were certainly the dawning rays of passion spilling over the horizon of my consciousness. There was no denying that. But there was so much more.