The Gods of Greenwich (46 page)
Read The Gods of Greenwich Online
Authors: Norb Vonnegut
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
MONDAY
,
DECEMBER
1
BENTWING AT
$21.35
Jimmy leaned back in his Aeron chair. The hoary wooden floors of his condominium, once tagged for industrial use, groaned as he shifted his weight. Cusack considered the days ahead and smiled.
The Beemer was parked outside—just in case. Emi could deliver any day now. He was ready. For a moment, he visualized what would happen.
Emi: “It’s time.”
Cusack: “I’ll get your bag.”
Emi: “Okay, Pops.” He could almost see her stadium-light smile, enough wattage to moisten the eyes of most GE engineers.
These days, Emi seldom called him “James.” It was always “Pops” or “Daddio,” although she preferred “Pops” by a margin of two to one over “Daddio.”
Cusack envisioned himself carrying Emi’s bag, shepherding her to the Beemer, and speeding off to the hospital. Richard Petty, David Pearson, and Bobby Allison—NASCAR had nothing on him. Over the past weekend, Cusack drove the route and timed himself just to be sure.
On the ride to the hospital, Emi would probably ask for the two hundredth time, “Are you sure about the name?”
They had settled on Bart Phelps Cusack. Emi insisted on the Phelps part. Throwing in surnames had been her family’s tradition ever since the
Mayflower.
Cusack agreed, though he secretly hoped the decision would go extra innings and end with a miracle victory. He loved “Yaz” and doubted they would ever call his son anything else.
Cusack resisted the temptation to buy a new car. Instead, he paid a garage to renovate the Beemer. The old clunker sported a new engine, new radiator and air-conditioning, new tires, and new paint job—retro styling with a metallic tan body, white roof, and shiny chrome. The car boasted a new lease on life, and the overhaul cost less than the latest models.
“Caution” was the watchword. The markets were flailing. Even though Cusack’s own financial fortunes had turned better—a modest uptick—he preferred to be careful. There was no certainty his improved fortunes would last. Plus, he had new obligations to consider.
Yea.
At that moment Emi interrupted her husband’s thoughts. “It’s time,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Do I need to spell it out on paper?” she asked, her sapphire-blue eyes dancing with mischief. She paused and added, “Daddio.”
Cusack’s heart began to pound. His eyebrows raised high. Adrenaline and excitement and an emotion he could not identify surged through his being. “You sure?”
“My water broke.”
* * *
Five weeks earlier, Graham Durkin called Cusack on his cell. “Can you talk?”
“Always,” replied Cusack.
“What are your plans?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you looking for a job?”
“Short term, I’m shutting down LeeWell Capital.”
“Are you joining Victor Lee?”
“You know about his fund?” asked Cusack. Durkin had never invested with LeeWell Capital. There was no reason for Victor and the billionaire to be in touch.
“I keep my ear to the ground.”
“It’s nothing personal, Graham. But Victor is a whack job. No way I’m joining his operation.”
“You’re not a fan of estrogen pills?”
“You know about that?” Cusack’s eyebrows arched high in surprise.
“I hear he ran numbers on the benefits.”
“Your sources must be good.”
“Look, Jimmy. I’ll cut to the chase. You know money, and you’ve already made me a bunch.”
“By pushing you away from LeeWell Capital?”
“No. But that’s one reason I want you to work for me. You put my interests ahead of your own. It makes me think I can trust you.”
“How did you make money?”
“Remember DOG?”
“Of course, it’s the perfect stock right now. It goes up when the market goes down.”
“I backed up the truck,” said Durkin. “I’m up twenty-five percent and wondering what to do.”
“Do you have much money at risk?”
“Enough to be uncomfortable.”
“Book the profit,” Cusack advised with complete conviction.
“See what I mean? I need somebody to run my finances. And I want that somebody to be you.”
“DOG is one idea that worked. My investments don’t all work out. And we hardly know each other.”
“Look, Jimmy. I’ve done my homework. I know all about Cusack Capital and checked you out with my buddies from Goldman. I bet you have a few problems with your lease obligations.”
“I’ll figure something out.” Cusack tried to sound cool. But he knew where this conversation was headed. It was that time again.
“Can you be in Providence tomorrow?”
Two weeks later, Cusack and Graham inked a deal. There was a small signing bonus and enough paperwork for Cusack to refinance his mortgage until he sold the condo and moved someplace more modest. Even better, Durkin agreed to establish a presence at the Empire State Building and insisted they rehire Jimmy’s assistant from his days at Goldman Sachs and Cusack Capital—Sydney.
It was still early. But Jimmy and Graham had already discussed Bentwing. They liked the idea of building a strategic position in alternative energy companies. At $21.35 the stock looked like a steal, a victim of the games that short sellers play.
* * *
“Your water broke?”
Emi nodded yes, her face a roaring bonfire. Without warning, she winced and grabbed her stomach. “We gotta go.”
Cusack leaped from his Aeron. Suddenly, he was everywhere. He squeezed past Emi, who was standing in the door. He ran down the hall and grabbed Em’s coat from the hall closet. “Where’s your bag?”
“By the door where you left it.”
“Oh, right. Where are my keys?”
“Check your pockets.”
“Oh, right.”
“You ready to go?” asked Emi, trying hard not to snicker now that the contraction pain had eased. She waddled through the short corridor to the family room.
“Let’s roll,” Cusack replied, and raced back to help his wife.
In the elevator Cusack studied Emi intently. “Are you okay?”
“No different than any other mother in the history of mankind.”
When they were outside Emi hugged Cusack’s right arm, her overnight bag slung over his right shoulder. Together they marched toward the retro tan-and-white Beemer, the couple energized by December chill and the adventure ahead. Ever the gentleman, Cusack opened the passenger door for Emi and helped her inside.
Cusack jumped in the car behind the steering wheel, smiled crookedly, and said, “Here we go.”
“Here we go,” echoed Emi.
He turned the key in the ignition, hoped for the best, and smiled crookedly as their Beemer fired the first time.
ALSO BY NORB VONNEGUT
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS
.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
THE GODS OF GREENWICH
. Copyright © 2011 by Norb Vonnegut. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Vonnegut, Norb.
The gods of Greenwich / Norb Vonnegut. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-312-38469-2
1. Investment advisers—Fiction. 2. Fraud—Fiction. 3. Wall Street (New York, N.Y.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3622.O678G63 2011
813'.6—dc22
2010042895
First Edition: April 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-6187-5
First Minotaur Books eBook Edition: April 2011
