The Black & The White (30 page)

“
You tell anyone and you’re
definitely fired. You’ll never get a job on Wall Street again. You
hear me? I will make sure of that. That’s just the way the world
works around here,” he said angrily through gritted
teeth.

“
Then get me the two-year
seat and I won’t turn you in or tell Stephen. I said, surprised at
myself for my tactical skill at using his own rules to my
benefit.

In a matter of a seconds, a switch in
Andrew’s brain seemed to turn his mood from frightful to
joyous.

“
You keep your mouth shut on
this and you get your two year seat.”

S
tephen and I began to go out regularly. Eventually, we were
seeing each other nearly every day for at least an hour.

We started out with new restaurants
recommended online. Once we exhausted those, we explored Zagat’s
top ten best places to eat. Once those were finished, he and I
explored every restaurant that served caviar. That became my
favorite, so we repeated that list several times. I enjoyed Osetra
above Beluga or Sevruga, wrapped in warm blini, slathered with
crème fraiche, topped with chopped, white onions. Stephen always
insisted on champagne to complement it. I preferred Sauvignon
Blanc.

On Thursdays, we would meet at the
dimly lit bar in the St.Regis. We both ordered “the usual” from
“Old Man Bob,” the waiter we’d come to know. We spoke about our
lives, and there was no hiding the underlying and repressed passion
that we kept for each other.

With each encounter, I liked him more.
I enjoyed his quirky humor, laughing with him, but mostly, laughing
at him. The more I enjoyed him, the more I felt overridden with
guilt: the wife and the fraud scheme against him.

Andrew knew of Stephen’s affinity for
me and often made mention of Stephen’s wife in conversation. If
Andrew couldn’t succeed in his pursuit of me, he seemed to want to
make sure no one else would, not even Stephen. Andrew hadn’t become
successful without being competitive in all aspects of his
life.

“
So, how is Liz doing with
her new job? She’s a recruiter now, or something like that, right?”
Andrew asked Stephen about his wife one day when we were sitting
outside a midtown restaurant.

I glanced up at Stephen who was
already looking at me. He smiled. I smiled back.

In my mind, it was easier to ignore
Stephen’s marital status. It was the only way I knew how to cope
with my feelings. In my small, myopic world, it was a world of
Stephen and me, alone at restaurants, apartments, and laughing as
best friends.

“
She’s okay. I guess it
gives her something to do other than taking the kids on play dates
and spending money.” I could tell he wanted to change the subject,
but there was a part of me that needed to hear about his wife.
Hearing about her made her more real.

“
Hey, I heard you gave her a
nice set of pearls for your anniversary. Does she like it?” I
asked. The previous week, Andrew had mentioned that Stephen had
bought an anniversary gift for his wife from an airline catalog
while he was flying back from California on business.

“
Isabelle, I didn’t say
that. I said he gave her a
dirty
present around her neck called a pearl necklace.
You know, a lot of jiz around her throat.” Andrew drew a line with
his finger along my neck as he laughed. I nudged his hand
away.

Stephen remained quiet. He looked at
me and stared for a brief moment. I could tell he felt
bad.

“
Dude, you’re disgusting,”
Stephen finally said before he addressed my question. “Yeah, she
likes them, I guess.”

“
What did she give you?” I
asked although it pained me to hear him speak about her.

“
She doesn’t really give me
presents. Hey, by the way how’s my swap doing? You’ve become my
largest liquidity provider. Bank of China doing something I don’t
know about?”

I wanted to push further regarding the
presents but stopped myself.

“
You don’t know how large
your positions are with us?” I asked, interrupting Andrew amidst a
long explanation.

“
Not really. I have so many
positions, I just pay this guy extra money to worry for me,”
Stephen answered. “He just books it with my back office. I’m too
busy to confirm.”

“
Dude, then you need to pay
me more,” Andrew said.

“
Ha-ha! What? You need a
bigger mansion?” Stephen then turned to me. “Has he told you about
his big house in Connecticut? It’s larger than mine! Don’t let this
guy fool you, Isabelle. He’s the highest paid dealer on Wall
Street.”

Yes, because he’s stealing
from you,
I thought.

“
You can never have enough
money,” Andrew said, grinning, as he forked more fettuccine into
his mouth.

“
Dude, you make me sick. You
were never this greedy until you moved into that farmhouse. What
happened to you?” Stephen asked, furrowing his brow.

“
It’s called a mortgage and
a wife with a mean spending habit,” Andrew said,
chortling.

“
Well, whatever it is, you
better be able to get me out of this trade when the Fed
announces.”

I grew more restless. We had the
opposite side of the trade as he. I considered Stephen to be a
better trader than Andrew. Someone had to be right. I just hoped it
was us.

I excused myself to the bathroom. I
needed to calm my nerves.

The next day, Stephen called. “It’s so
nice out. Bellinis for lunch down at Soho Cipriani?”

I looked at the clock on my computer.
It was only 10:45, but the prospect of seeing Stephen excited
me.

“
I have a job you know,” I
responded, jokingly.

“
Yeah, but I am your biggest
client. You have to see me if I ask you to.”

“
I can’t.” I wanted to take
my job seriously.

“
Then I’ll have Andrew fire
you for today and rehire you tomorrow.”

I changed my mind, turned on by
Stephen’s insistence. “Okay, okay…see you at noon. Is Andrew
invited?” I regretted that I had to ask.

“
Andrew?” Stephen laughed.
“Unfortunately, yes. But I’ll come up with a plan to make him go
back to work.”

The bond market closed early that day,
as it did the day before every major bank holiday, and we were
settled in for a long lunch that I knew would likely last all
afternoon. We sat at an outside table that was perfect for
people-watching.

At around the time I was downing my
fifth drink. Carin came along to revel in the festivities. I didn’t
want to invite Kim, as I was scared she would pose a threat to my
developing relationship with Stephen.

Stephen got up, hugged Carin, and
pulled out her chair for her.

“
Wow, such gentleman at the
table,” Carin said. She looked at Andrew and smiled. He sleazily
grinned back. “Why so mannerly, Stephen?”

“
I’m learning. Isabelle’s a
tough instructor,” Stephen commented with a tinge of
flirtatiousness towards Carin.

We sat on uncomfortable metal seats
talking and drinking until dusk. Suddenly, Giovanni was standing
next to my chair with the same Russian girl I had met at the
Biltmore Room. I noticed a trickle of blood peeking out from his
nostrils.

“
So many fucking hot chicks
here,” Giovanni noted as he scanned the tables outside.

As I raised my glass and attempted to
make a toast to an unseasonably warm fall afternoon, I felt a hand
reach across my breast. The hand belonged to the Russian
girl.

“
I like your breasts,” she
stated. I nearly spit the Bellini out. “I couldn’t help it, your
nipples were just there. Are you cold?” she asked.

I was embarrassed by her comment. I
didn’t know what to do apart from cross my arms across my
chest.

I wasn’t cold. We were sitting
directly under heat lamps.

Stephen laughed. “If I had done that,
I would have been slapped,” he said.

“
They just look tight and
young,” the Russian girl said through her thick accent.

Her words struck me as strange. I had
never thought of breasts that way before. I felt myself
blush.

“
Can I validate that they
are tight and young?” Stephen grinned. I darted him an evil look to
indicate he shouldn’t dare.

At that moment, my cell phone vibrated
and I saw it was Jeffrey calling. I pressed Ignore.

The table of models seated next to us
turned to see the commotion. Sleek and svelte, they were the
admiration of the room, a room that included several music industry
and movie celebrities.

As the night progressed, Cipriani
regulars soon made their way to the restaurants. The restaurant
managers knew everyone by their first name. Men in white tank tops
and leather jackets arrived on Vespas with scantily clad
model-types riding as passengers behind them. Models with their
tear-sheet books still in hand from a long day of casting compared
and contrasted their respective “notes.”

“
Oh, my gosh, who was the
photographer for this shoot?”

“
Your hair here was really
good.”

“
Which makeup artist did you
use?”

“
Yeah, I saw this one
in
Italian Vogue.
That was a fun shoot.”

From across the room, I recognized an
actor from a TV sitcom, a tabloid favorite, David McFaddan, sitting
outside with us, several tables away. Stephen had noticed his
constant stares in my direction. I decided to flirt back with my
eyes. I glanced over at him a few times and even smiled
once.

Stephen made his way around the table
and sat next to me. He wrapped his hand around my chair.
“Isabelle,” he snapped at me in an attempt to get my attention.
“What are you looking at?”

“
Nothing.” I
grinned.

Carin had heard the conversation and
also looked to see who I had been looking at.

“
You’re paying attention to
that fucking loser?” Stephen said. He turned to the table and gave
David McFadden the finger.

“
Stephen, you jerk.” I hit
him on his arm.

“
He is hitting on you with
other guys around
. How does he know that
I’m not your boyfriend. That’s just rude.”

“
Because you’re not my
boyfriend, Stephen,” I answered quickly. Carin looked at me
quizzically, wondering why Stephen was being so
overprotective.

“
Don’t get me jealous,”
Stephen said to me.

“
When was it that I was
yours?” I asked.

“
Ooooh. Is this a lover’s
quarrel?” Carin asked. “Carry on. Carry on while I sit back and
watch the drama unfold.”

Stephen smiled at her while I shook my
head.

“
Listen, if I had my way, I
would brand you mine.” Stephen gestured to brand me on my arm while
making sizzling noises. “That’s what I would do. Right there so
everyone can see it.” He finished. I rolled my eyes.

“
Whatever!” I said
sarcastically.

I got up from the table and made my
way past David’s table en route to the bathroom to do a line. It
was already two hours since I had done my last one. I had hoped
David would notice me.

Jeffrey called again. I pressed Ignore
a second time while I was snorting my line. I was having too much
fun and wasn’t inclined to speak at that moment.

When I left the ladies room, I saw
that David was waiting right there leaning back against the wall,
next to a case of free postcards. He handed me a postcard. It said,
Girl meets boy. Boy meets girl. He scribbled “Please call me.” He
signed it “David.”

He seemed nervous—fidgeting with his
fingers, uncertain where to place them. He decided to place his
hands in the back pocket of his jeans. I found his nervousness
adorable.

“
Thanks, David. My name is
Isabelle.”

Beyond David, I could see Stephen
writhing with jealousy, looking over my shoulder, anxiously. I knew
that my speaking to David would infuriate Stephen, so I spoke to
him longer.

I noticed Andrew, Stephen, and Carin
watching as David and I conversed. It wasn’t hard to pin David as a
celebrity, Hollywood type. His casual dress of jeans and a t-shirt
(despite the weather), his entourage, and his commanding presence
were easily distinguishable. Although for a celebrity, his
awkwardness toward me was entertaining. It wasn’t his ordinary
looks, long nose, and long face that were appealing as much as his
easy charisma.

Stephen kept shaking his head and
drinking from his fluted glass. The more frustrated he became, the
more amused I was.

David kept noticing my glances toward
the table. He looked also. “Your friends?”

“
Yeah, it looks like there
is an audience for us. Kind of embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

“
Is that guy with the curly
hair your boyfriend?” David asked. He must have been paying
attention the whole time.