What You Sow

by Wallace Ford

  “And what might that condition be, Snow Cone?”

  “You will have to say ‘please,’ and very nicely.”

  I had an idea of where this conversation was headed, and I put my coffee cup down and got up from the table. As I did, my robe just seemed to have a mind of its own, and it fell to the floor. I wasn’t wearing anything else.

  “Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, come with me to the bedroom, and you will hear ‘please’ as many times as you like.”

  We both smiled, and we both headed to the bedroom. And, we both said “please” and “thank you” many times that morning.

  CHAPTER 57

  Paul

  Coming Home Baby

  During the year or so after Gordon rejoined Morningstar, so many things were happening simultaneously and quickly that I felt like I was caught in some kind of madcap hurricane where time and circumstances incessantly flew by. Morningstar remained my biggest and most important client, and with the addition of Gordon and Ray, business seemed to increase exponentially. So many new transactions required me to add lawyers to my office, and the activity was time-consuming and all-consuming.

  I continued to work for other clients as well. The new and existing business kept me busy. I was extremely busy, but not extremely happy.

  For one thing, it became a daily battle to find a way to spend time with PJ. Now that his third birthday had passed, it seemed like every day and every moment were precious. I was increasingly conscious of the passage of time when it came to my son, time that could never be recovered no matter how many clients I had, no matter how much money I amassed.

  He continued to be a treasure and a pleasure. It was a wonder watching him transform into his own person. But that person needed guidance and love and teaching and nurturing, and it was hard to give him all of those things when I was on a plane to California or hunched over a conference table on West 57th Street late at night.

  He was a young black boy who would one day become a black man in America. He was going to be in a combat mode for most of his life, combating prejudice and bias and racism, battling self-doubt and the doubts of others. Not only have I always had every confidence that my son would survive, but I have always had every confidence that he would prevail and succeed. But it would be a lot easier for him to succeed if I could somehow make sure that he was prepared for all of these battles in the near future.

  I tried to compensate by going home early enough to spend time with him before he went to sleep, and by working from my home office until all hours of the night. I forced myself to get up before dawn on a regular basis so that I could get a start on the business day and still wake PJ and fix his breakfast and read to him and start to introduce him to the learning wonders of the world—reading, counting, using the computer and absorbing the world around him. Time with my son was always the best time of the day.

  The brutal reality of the day having only twenty-four hours meant that I had less and less time to simply sit back and relax. Leisure time was an unknowable luxury that I vaguely remembered. I chalked that phenomenon up to the price of fatherhood and tried to move on.

  Diedre was so engrossed in running the new and improved Morningstar Financial that sometimes it seemed as if we had agreed to a trial separation. Outside of the occasional meeting at Morningstar, we would see each other briefly in the morning and in the evening. I know that she was frustrated at not being able to spend even the small shreds of time with our son that I was able to carve out of a more flexible schedule. I also know that she was challenged and excited by the opportunity to take Morningstar to even greater heights.

  The result of these competing challenges and demands was that we rarely saw each other. Romance and passion seemed faint and distant memories, and soon the reality was that the only things that we had in common were Paul Jr. and Morningstar.

  Meanwhile, I had never seen Jerome happier or more energized. His romance with Domino Oakley blossomed, and after the enervating years of Charmaine’s illness and death, he seemed like a new man. They spent as much time together as two committed professionals could manage, and as their relationship became more serious, and more public, he introduced her to his sons, who bonded with her almost immediately. She didn’t become their surrogate mother or stepmother. She became the woman who made their father happy and the “other” presence to balance out all of that testosterone when Jerome and the two boys got together.

  For her part, Domino seemed to enjoy her new role. She continued to be as gorgeous and glamorous as ever. But I had to confess to experiencing a feeling of shock and surprise when Jerome would tell me about weekends that she would spend bike riding and horseback riding and going to baseball games with him and the boys. Just like every aspect of life, I don’t think either of them knew exactly where their relationship was heading, but they both seemed to like the direction in which it was going.

  Jerome plunged into the challenges of the “new” Morningstar with gusto, and seemed to manage the presence of Ray Beard and Gordon Perkins as a new challenge that he embraced. Jerome’s energy and confidence were contagious, and everyone at Morningstar seemed to be affected by them. And the results of this particular brand of contagion were obvious in the increased growth and productivity and profits of the firm.

  Kenitra had found it best for her sanity to stay in Los Angeles. Gordon kept to his promise and refrained from contacting her in any way. Gordon was never to be trusted, of course, but it seemed that, for the moment, he was truly being a man of his word.

  Kenitra’s romance with Sture continued to blossom. Sture racked up an incredible frequent-flyer total going to Los Angeles at least twice a month, and he always returned with a smile on his face that he couldn’t hide. By the end of the summer of 2001, he was seriously exploring the idea of opening a Dorothy’s in Los Angeles, and on behalf of the other partners in Dorothy’s By the Sea, I gave him the go-ahead to try to come up with a plan that could work.

  I knew that business and pleasure were equal parts of his motivation. And we both knew that Dorothy’s West would work only if it made business sense.

  As everyone returned from the 2001 Labor Day holiday, it was time for PJ to start going to his first pre-K class, and it was getting close to the time for Diedre and me to figure out how we were going to live our lives and whether it was going to be together or apart.

  As everyone returned from the 2001 Labor Day holiday, Jerome and Domino continued to give love and romance a good name. It seemed that their future would become as entwined as their present, and that would be a good thing for both of them.

  As everyone returned from the 2001 Labor Day holiday, Ray Beard and Monique Jefferson were getting ready to celebrate the first birthday of their son, Jerome Russell, and it seemed as if they couldn’t be happier. Ray became a full-fledged member of the now wildly successful Morningstar team, and Monique’s television career was reaching even greater heights since she had returned from maternity leave.

  As everyone returned from the 2001 Labor Day holiday, Quincy Holloway was on his way to becoming one of the truly high income leaders of the faith industry in America. After he sold the tape of Gordon’s revival to three networks, Quincy also tried to market a videotape of the event on television and through mail order. However, Solomon DeSouza had one of his particularly lethal clients place a call to Quincy on Gordon’s behalf, and that particular venture was put permanently on the back shelf.

  Nevertheless, Quincy Holloway enjoyed his transformation from social leader and political gadfly and conscience of America to faith healer and spiritual icon. He was planning a September 2001 premiere of a cable television program in which he would offer to heal the ill (and the gullible) on a kind of pay-per-heal basis. I had heard that early estimates of the net revenues to Quincy were in the neighborhood of one million dollars a month. Clearly, the Lord works in mysterious ways.

  As everyone returned from the 2001 Labor Day holiday, Gordon continued to be Gordon. I had my monthly
meeting with Solomon DeSouza to confirm that Gordon was adhering to all the terms of the revised partnership agreement, and I had just reported to Jerome and Diedre that everything seemed to be in order.

  The first week after Labor Day was uneventful. The first Monday after Labor Day 2001 was also pretty ordinary, at least in the morning.

  On the afternoon of September 10, 2001, everything changed. Forever.

  CHAPTER 58

  Diedre

  Odds Against Tomorrow

  There are some events that I will never forget. I will never forget my first kiss. I will never forget wearing my first pair of high heeled shoes. I will never forget the birth of my son.

  And I will never forget the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I saw Jerome, Ray and Paul walk unexpectedly into my office late in the afternoon of that September Monday. The look on their faces told me at once that they were not coming to share good news. The absence of Gordon gave me a pretty good idea of what the source of the bad news might be. I braced myself.

  “I’m guessing this is not an early start to happy hour.”

  Jerome nodded grimly as the three of them sat in chairs arranged in front of my desk.

  “What on earth is the problem this time?”

  “Diedre, we have some real problems—a crisis, really. But it’s best to let Ray begin.” Jerome took the lead in opening the discussion. I could tell that the three of them had already had some conversation on the subject at hand, and I wanted to be brought up to speed as quickly as possible. I could feel my heart beating like a trip-hammer.

  “Go ahead, Ray. Tell Diedre what you told Paul and me a few minutes ago.” Jerome was as angry as I had ever seen him. He almost spit the words out, and Ray hesitated for a few moments before starting. He sat in his chair staring at the floor as he spoke, never looking at any of us.

  “You know I started working on projects with Gordon soon after he began working here. Jerome knows that I reported the details of everything I knew about Gordon’s activities with the firm. Gordon knew it as well, and for several months, everything seemed to be going well.” Ray paused and seemed to be trying to decide whether to continue.

  “Then, a few months ago, while we were working on a presentation in D.C., Gordon suggested that I join him in what he called a Grand Plan. His plan entailed setting up a new firm—New Gibraltar Associates is the name—and draining all the accounts of Morningstar through some kind of sophisticated cyber-hacking arrangement that he had been setting up. He also wanted to poach as many of the Morningstar clients as possible, and that’s where I was supposed to come in.”

  I sat in stunned silence, listening to Ray’s every word. This was our worst nightmare come true. Ray pressed on, and I continued to listen, trying to keep a grip on my nerves and my emotions and my temper.

  “All of you have been so great in giving me a second chance, I thought that the best thing that I could do was play along with Gordon until we got to some critical time where you would need to know what was going on so that you could protect the firm and stop Gordon. Well, that critical time is now.”

  I could see that Paul was waiting with diminishing patience to get into the conversation.

  “It turns out that Gordon has already set up offices for Gibraltar Associates in the World Trade Center. Ray is supposed to get key client information on disks this evening and deliver them to Gordon in the morning. I gather Gordon’s hacking job is supposed to go into effect at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, at which time all of the Morningstar accounts will be drained, as well as every personal account of yours—Jerome and Diedre—that he can identify.”

  The plan was so unreal and so brutal that it was pure Gordon. To say I was stunned would only begin to describe how I felt. At this point, Jerome chimed in.

  “Diedre, we have to move, and move quickly. I asked Paul to come by as soon as Ray told me about this, and clearly, we need to come up with a plan.”

  I snapped out of my dreamlike state and tried to think clearly.

  “Paul, you need to call Gordon’s counsel and tell him that we know about Gordon’s plan and that we will exercise all of the penalties in our partnership agreement—effective as of now.”

  “I already called DeSouza, Diedre. All of his lines are disconnected. I have an associate going to SoHo to check on his office, but I am betting there is nothing there but dust balls and packing boxes.”

  “Great. Just great. In that case, Jerome, you need to call your forensic security firm and make sure that all of our accounts—and I mean all of our accounts—are encrypted, protected, whatever the hell that needs to be done, and that it is done now, right now!”

  “I will get on it right now, Diedre, but we need something more. Tell me what you think of this idea.”

  And Jerome laid out a plan that would have Ray go to the World Trade Center the next day as appointed. He would go with dummy disks that, instead of having Morningstar details, would contain a series of viruses that would effectively cripple all of the computer operations of the new firm. That would be when we would have the federal agents come through the door of Gibraltar Associates.

  And that would be the time that we would call Gordon one last time. Ten o’clock seemed like a good time for a phone call.

  We all agreed, and got to work. There was a lot to do before the morning of September 11 was upon us.

  CHAPTER 59

  Paul

  Goin’ Out of My Head

  Jerome, Diedre and I were in the Morningstar offices by seven o’clock the next morning. It was like we were in the middle of some military operation, and in some ways, that was the case.

  I had already alerted the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York, and FBI agents would be coming to the Gibraltar offices in the World Trade Center at ten. Jerome and Diedre had already completed affidavits in support of their complaint against Gordon and Gibraltar.

  Jerome had been up much of the night with his security technicians. All the Morningstar (as well as his and Diedre’s) accounts had been moved and protected and encrypted. Mine were similarly protected for good measure. Attempts to tamper with the old accounts would be traced immediately.

  Ray had been given the dummy virus disks and was to get to the World Trade Center at nine. Then our plan would go into effect. And then hell came to earth.

  As the three of us sat in silence and nine o’clock approached, we were surprised when we were told that Ray was on the line. It was much too early. I punched the speakerphone button.

  “I don’t know what’s going on!” There was pure panic in Ray’s voice, and all kinds of noise and sirens in the background. “Maybe it’s a bomb! An earthquake! I have no idea what!”

  “Ray, get the hell out of there now! Right now!” Paul told him the only thing that made sense. I turned on the television in my office, and Jerome bolted from the room in search of some privacy as I realized he was dialing Domino’s number on his cell phone.

  Within minutes, the news reports started to make some sense out of the madness. A plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers, seemingly on purpose. Soon both towers were on fire, and people were jumping out of windows. Later, a jet crashed into the Pentagon. Clearly, all hell was breaking loose.

  Paul ran out of the office to go the few blocks north to get PJ, who was at a YMCA pre-K class. I was never so happy to see the two of them as I was at that moment. At about the same time, Jerome came back into the office with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face.

  It turned out that Domino did indeed have an early morning meeting at her offices in the World Trade Center. But she had forgotten her favorite Bobbi Brown lip gloss and had gone back downstairs to the World Trade Center mall to get a replacement when what turned out to be the plane hit the first of the Twin Towers. Bobbi Brown had saved her life!

  The FBI agents had not made it to the World Trade Center. None of them was ever at risk as a result. And no one involved in our plan had gotten to the Gibraltar offi
ces. Jerome did check, however, and no efforts had been made to tamper with any of the Morningstar accounts that morning. Even Gordon couldn’t have planned for the events of September 11, 2001.

  Ray never made it into the towers either and, therefore, was able to get one of the last subways going north before the system was shut down. He made it into the office at around noon, and we all sat around the television for the rest of that terrible day. And we all wondered about two things.

  We all wanted to know what was actually happening. And we all wanted to know what had happened to Gordon.

  CHAPTER 60

  Kenitra

  Impressions

  Sture happened to be in Los Angeles on September 11, 2001. It was six in the morning when the first jet crashed into the World Trade Center. We had gotten up early, planning to take a run along the beach. We just happened to catch the news on television as we were putting on our running gear. By the time the second plane hit, we were both transfixed.

  The horror and the destruction were almost impossible to comprehend. The reports were apocalyptic. The sights were horrific.

  And then we saw both of the towers collapse. As we continued to stare at the television in disbelief, the phone rang. There was no mistaking the voice through the static and the sirens and the screaming in the background.

  “Not yet, Kenitra. Not just yet. I’ll see you again.” And then the line disconnected. And then I screamed.

  Stay tuned for a helping of