The Devil's Analyst

by Dennis Frahmann

  A new car arrived, and Josh smiled in satisfaction. It had happened—the arrival of a much-sought-after guest—Barbara Linsky, the star of his evening. Surprisingly, it was the promised presence of Francesca Petroff that had lured Linsky. Who would guess that a tired old tech guru like Linsky would be infatuated with food? It always paid to know those hidden hankerings.

  Linsky was a goddess to venture capitalists and the tech press. Ever since her advisory firm, Barbara Linsky, Incorporated, started the BLINK conferences four years ago, her star had risen higher and higher. Each September, her annual conference in Boston attracted nearly two thousand of the country’s most influential minds. Attendance was by invitation only, and few turned down the opportunity to attend (although their motivation might tilt more toward mingling with the influential guests than being inspired by thought-provoking lectures). People with an agenda would kill for an invitation to speak. And Barbara was here tonight, and he had all evening to work his magic.

  When his primary investor Colby Endicott heard about Linsky’s attendance, the man went crazy. Frankly, Josh found Colby a third-rate hanger-on when it came to the tech investment community. But he had inherited money and the right kind of friends. Knowing the money man wouldn’t ask too many questions, Josh persuaded Colby early on to bring big money into Premios. Truth was, with the proceeds from the sale of InnerEatz to AOL, Danny and Josh could have funded the first and second stages of financing themselves. But why put their money at risk? Josh believed in letting others share that excitement.

  Admittedly there was more to getting an outside investor involved than playing it safe. Over the years, Danny had given Josh a lot of himself, and that had made Josh’s life fuller and more meaningful. He shouldn’t risk Danny’s share of money on something that was really Josh’s dream. He owed Danny more than that.

  God, success was so tantalizingly close. Internet companies were going public left and right at huge valuations and making their founders rich beyond sensibility. Who could say what something was worth in this new world? Maybe some claimed it was all a bubble, but bubbles could float high and far. One just had to escape the bubble before it burst.

  Tonight he had gathered everything needed to fan a little hot air that would raise the Premios bubble ever so gently, ever so higher. Financiers like Colby, analysts like Barbara, celebrities like Jesus and Francesca—just tinder to his fire of expansion.

  Standing on the small musician’s balcony that bridged a view of the entry and the large living room, Josh realized he had removed himself too long from the main action of the party in the room below. In the original architectural plans filed with the city, the living room was labeled a ballroom. Whatever its function, tonight it was aglow with people and stemware. It was time to join them. As he reached the bottom of the steep staircase from the balcony, Orleans walked up. “Have you told Danny yet?” she wanted to know.

  “About Jesus? Yes, I have. And next time he asks questions, just give him direct answers.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Have you told him the real source of Colby Endicott’s money?”

  Josh shut her down with a single look. “He doesn’t need to know. I’ll take care of it.”

  Danny was so pleased to hear Francesca Petroff laugh. Frankly, it gave him goose bumps to hear such unrestrained joy. Lately she had been far too depressed, but that’s why people had friends—to help one another laugh.

  Even if they were secreted away in the mansion’s kitchen gossiping among the din of the catering staff, Danny was happy to be with his friends. At least Stephen and Wally could claim a reason to be in the room. Technically the serving staff reported to them and all of the food came from their restaurant’s kitchen. For a typical Hollywood catering job, the restaurant would have sent out a lead. Neither Wally nor Stephen would have been anywhere in sight. On the other hand, the two of them would never have been on the invitation list.

  Not only were they here at his party, but they also brought Francesca with them, which Danny knew made Josh happy. But Danny was also happy. Francesca needed to get out of her house and away from depressing thoughts. What she really needed was the presence of good friends, although the music and glitter might also help.

  Josh tried to explain why this party was so important, but now Danny found that he couldn’t even recall the reasons. Somehow Josh saw the event as critical to taking the company public. How having a bunch of strangers drink fancy wine and eat expensive canapés could affect decision makers on Wall Street was a mystery to Danny. He regretted uttering aloud that fleeting thought about a New Year’s resolution to better understand the business. He really didn’t care to understand the company. All he needed were his friends.

  They were important to him. Years ago, Wally had taken a chance on Danny when he gave him a job as a busboy at his restaurant in the little town of Thread. He had always looked out for Danny, and that job had led to his knowing Stephen—and in turn Francesca. Friends mattered, and they made him happy.

  How could he care about the kind of people Josh invited, especially Jesus Lopez? A few days earlier, Josh finally admitted that Lopez had been in Premios’ office, but Danny had no idea why Orleans first lied about it or why he had to force the information out of Josh. But he was over the incident. What did it matter how the company recruited new writers? After all, Josh would never have known Lopez if Danny hadn’t enrolled in the man’s writing course—and if he hadn’t done that, their business probably wouldn’t even exist. Truthfully, though, Danny wanted to write fiction, not offer arch reviews of restaurants or gossip about chefs. Let Francesca be the master of such work. There was a rumor that Vanity Fair was trying to lure her to Manhattan as their restaurant reviewer.

  The party unsettled Danny. He felt a need to turn his life around. He was letting other people decide key directions for him. He had a mind of his own and he should use it. On this night his instincts told him to revel in friendship and let the party rage without him. Let Josh worry about business.

  Danny and his friends were seated around a small breakfast table in a nook of the kitchen. The table held four flutes, along with a near-empty bottle of Taittinger champagne. The nook’s windows overlooked the large swimming pool and a lawn terraced into the east side of the hillside lot. Below the terraces, the yard dropped steeply to the street below.

  Stephen motioned to one of his waiters, “Bring us another bottle, and also one of those duck breast pizzas.”

  Around the table, everyone was laughing. Wally was being the indiscreet raconteur and recalling every oddball movement of any celebrity that ever came into their main restaurant in East Hollywood. He had just finished flamboyantly describing a situation involving a B-level starlet and her malfunctioning wardrobe.

  Francesca wiped the tears from her eyes, “How I wish I could use a tale like that in one of my reviews, but the paper is so staid. Now, Danny, he was the lucky one when he still had his ‘zine. People only read his rag to get dirt, and he could use whatever he heard.” She smiled to show she wasn’t serious, even though Danny knew the critique was totally true.

  “But who was the one at this table hoovering up all the filth to pass it onto me?” Danny asked.

  Even as he laughed in agreement, Wally held up his hands to deny it.

  “It is so good to be here with my gay guys tonight,” Francesca said. “For the last month, I felt like I forgot how to laugh.”

  For a moment, the three men were somber. They all knew about Francesca’s situation. Though single, she desperately wanted to be a mother. An opportunity arose when her young cleaning girl Maria became pregnant. The girl was single, Catholic, not yet twenty-one and the father had vanished. When Francesca offered to pay Maria’s expenses through birth and then adopt the child, it seemed an ideal solution for all. Those who knew Francesca were overjoyed. While the woman lived life large and her past was wild, no one doubted that she would be a fantastic mother. Wally, Stephen, Danny and Josh attended Francesca’s baby shower an
d oohed over the sonogram showing the soon-to-be-born baby girl.

  But disaster struck in an unexpected way. An INS agent arrested Maria because she was in the country illegally and working without papers. Despite the best efforts of Francesca to provide the woman with legal help, Maria was deported. Later, after the baby was born in Mexico, Maria sent a letter saying she would remain living with her parents and raise the baby in their home outside Mérida. Francesca was left with only the sonogram and a room filled with baby furniture and supplies.

  Danny sometimes thought life was a pinball game. Full of chance, unexpected turns, and bumpers you couldn’t avoid. He regretted the loss of Francesca’s dream, but knew better than to suggest that she try adopting again or to note that at age 39 she still might get pregnant herself (even though he had toyed with the idea of offering his sperm).

  One of the waiters walked into the kitchen. It was clear he was looking for the four of them. A moment later, Kenosha followed. The game was up. She walked up to Danny, “We’re looking for you. Josh says you need to mingle with the rest of the guests.”

  “I guess that’s a summons,” Danny said. “But I say let Josh entertain this circus himself. “

  Kenosha put on that reproving look at which she excelled. “Danny, this is a business event. You know that. Help me do my job. Be part of the party. In fact, I could use all of you out there.”

  Danny wanted to enjoy himself his own way, so he rebelled. “Francesca, you’ve been here so many times, but you’ve never really seen our entire house. What do you say to a tour?”

  “Why not? After everything others gossip about this house, I can’t pass up the chance to see it myself.”

  For a moment, Danny thought Josh would be pleased to know that people talked about their home. After all, the decorators had done a wonderful job, and the restoration fully showed the house’s marvelous bones. Kenosha’s glare grew more severe. Danny was reminded of Josh’s more immediate desires and that Kenosha wasn’t going to let him get away with his little rebellion.

  Francesca continued, “Maybe I’m a bad guest to say so, but this house has quite the reputation among a certain Hollywood set . . . you know, those who are into the ghostly and mysterious.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not joking. In my line of work, you hear all sorts of behind-the-scenes talk. Now, I don’t know whether it was at Spago or Michael’s. More likely at Musso and Frank’s. It’s an old-fashioned, noir kind of place. The story I heard was all about a crazy old director and his house filled with secret rooms.”

  “There are no secret rooms,” Danny said.

  Francesca just laughed. “Not that you found. Otherwise how could they be secret? Imagine what might be buried in this place! I heard everything that mattered was in the basement.”

  Kenosha and Danny exchanged looks. Each knew what the other was thinking. Maybe someone had tried to break in.

  Danny heard Josh exuberantly call, “There you are! I was beginning to think you abandoned me. Left alone to swim my way through an ocean of sharks.” He flashed his big smile to the surrounding circle of admirers to show that he was letting them all in on his silly jest. They might be predators, he seemed to acknowledge, but they swam together.

  After Kenosha forced the four friends out of the kitchen, Francesca touched Danny just as they reached Josh, “There’s someone from the paper I need to greet. It was so nice talking in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t go yet, Francesca,” Josh said. Surrounded by Linsky, Lopez and Endicott, Josh sported that happy grin of a man about to win a game. If only Danny could enjoy life as much as his boyfriend did. “I have to brag a little. Barbara just asked me to speak at her next BLINK talk.” Francesca, Stephen, and Wally murmured their congratulations. Danny knew this was a major deal.

  “And what would all those posers want to hear from Josh Gunderson?” Stephen asked. It was meant as a light-hearted jibe, but it annoyed Josh.

  Kenosha quickly jumped in. “Barbara thinks Josh has interesting insights on how the web is changing people’s decision making. She thinks that will change commerce.”

  “Indeed, I do,” said Barbara as she slightly tipped her glass toward Josh.

  Kenosha couldn’t help but show a self-satisfied smile. As the public relations lead, she originally pitched the idea to Linsky. The invitation was a coup for the company and for her. The financier Colby Endicott was also smiling broadly. His investment firm, Endicott-Meyers, had bet big when they provided second round financing for Premios. No doubt he saw Linsky’s invitation not only as an endorsement of the company but also as a promising indicator of a big IPO payoff. Orleans just seemed relieved, which made no sense whatsoever to Danny. Sometimes he didn’t understand her. And he disliked that Jesus Lopez was hanging around this group. He didn’t belong, and it chafed Danny that he still found the man attractive.

  Lopez spoke, “Barbara, couldn’t you extend an invitation to this minor novelist? It would be so interesting to hear what Josh might say.” Now Kenosha was annoyed. She didn’t want someone horning in on her triumph.

  Linsky didn’t care. “Don’t put me on the spot, Mr. Lopez. Guest invitations are never sent before May. But don’t consider yourself a minor novelist. Didn’t the New York Review of Books just call you a major voice for the outcast society?”

  Lopez beamed. Maybe some element of the former homeowner’s directorial aura infected Danny, but he had flashes of being transported into a film. It wasn’t the first time he felt like a trapped character in a staging directed from off-screen. In this instance it was some scene from All About Eve, Bette Davis, and every other arch story about social climbers, but as in all of his disorienting flashes, Danny had no clue as to what character he was playing.

  Danny blamed his overactive imagination on Pete. After his mother died, his only confidante was Pete, who once owned the only movie theater in Thread. He befriended Danny, gave him small odd jobs, and occasionally convinced him to watch old movies.

  Those old films introduced him to a world beyond Thread and were treasured moments. Even though finances had forced Pete to close the Thread Theater more than a decade prior to befriending Danny, he continued to own the building and the projectors still worked. Tattered publicity posters for Cabaret still hung in those days in the glass cases on the building’s exterior, but only Danny was able to see a movie inside the building.

  Because Pete loved films and couldn’t let them go, he’d occasionally rent an old print to view by himself in the empty theater. He would sit on a stool in the projector’s booth, watching the scenes unreel on the dingy screen, peering through the booth’s small window, and letting the sound echo in the abandoned room with its missing seats and peeling paint. The theater was fading away but in the transforming light of the cinema, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the film.

  It took only a few months of Danny doing odd jobs around Pete’s house, before Pete made a daring decision to share his passion with Danny. He tentatively asked him if he’d like to see a real movie. That afternoon Pete projected a W.C. Fields flick that also starred Mae West. The two laughed together, and Danny no longer felt so forgotten. He had a friend and he had a life of imagination.

  When Danny’s mom was still alive, she and his dad used to talk about the movies they once saw. In Milwaukee when they first met, a theater had been their customary weekend date. After they moved back to Thread, his mother stopped working to care for Danny, and somehow Danny always knew his parents’ lives changed. But when Danny sat on a stool in the projection booth with Pete and watched the flickering shadows play across the large screen at the end of an empty room, Danny felt a lingering of his mother and life seemed bearable. He owed Pete for that.

  What would his mother think of his life now? Would she approve of how he lived with a man in a mansion near Hollywood, slept in the same bedroom used by a once-famous director, and entertained famous faces that most people only knew from photos in a fan magazine? If she could have f
oreseen his future, would it have been enough to keep her alive?

  “Premios is expanding,” Josh declared.

  Still encircled by Colby, Orleans and Kenosha, Josh was pimping himself to Barbara. Stephen and Wally had wandered over to the other side of the room. Danny wanted to follow, but he knew Josh expected him to stay. He owed him that.

  “New York is our next big market,” added Orleans. “Last year, we signed all the major restaurants, hotels, and venues on the West Coast. And we built a set of curated content with potential for national interest. It only makes sense to move East.”

  “Of course,” said Barbara. Colby was nodding his head in full agreement.

  “The idea,” said Josh, “is to duplicate the same connections we provide our western customers, but in the East. Access to all the best restaurants, shopping deals to hot stores, rooms at great hotels. This is our prime mission: to be the best-connected concierge the country could ever have.

  “And,” he added, “you’ll be surprised how we plan to accomplish that. We’re scheduling a big announcement at the ABC Studios on Times Square this April. Barbara, you should come to the press conference.”

  “Of course, I’ll be there with bells on,” she replied. Kenosha clapped her hands in appreciation.

  Suddenly Danny felt tired. Neither Josh nor Kenosha ever mentioned an upcoming press conference, or even plans for an East Coast expansion. Where had the money come from? He didn’t pay enough attention. Even back in Thread, even with Pete, he had always been that way. Whatever happened to Pete and that crazy hat he used to wear? After that summer when the bank finally foreclosed on his theater and he lost everything, Pete’s spirit crashed in upon itself. Danny always felt a little bit responsible. Sure, he was only fourteen then, but he could have helped the guy.