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Roger
“Well, Roger, it’s good to see you,” says Lou Wilson, the president of my company’s board. Lou is a tall, broad-shouldered black man in his 50s. His gray hair and graying goatee give him a regal look, which is appropriate because he’s also a prince of a human being.
When Tabitha left me, Lou and his wife let me crash at one of their apartments in SoHo, so I wouldn’t languish at my place where I was reminded of her everywhere I looked. Then, for the next year or so, they had me over regularly for Sunday dinners with their family.
The party life I kicked into high gear eventually put an end to the familiar part of our relationship. Nevertheless, I’ll always trust Lou with more than just my business.
Which is why it sucks that I need to keep him out of the loop on this one.
Lou sits across from me at the long conference table in our fishbowl-style meeting room. The other eight members of the board flank us on either side – serious-looking men and women who don’t all agree on my value as a human being, but are united in their love of the money I make them.
Right now, they’re also united on their level of discomfort toward me.
“I must say,” interjects Ellen, a short, skeleton-thin woman in her seventies, “the direction of the company has been a little erratic of late.”
She has more money than a few Saudi oil barons thrown together. She’s dressed, as always, in a red skirt and matching jacket, with a flower-print silk scarf draped carefully around her neck. Her naturally blond hair is cut in a tight bob. She’s all business.
“755 comes to mind,” she adds.
“Turns out, it was a bad partnership,” is all I say to that.
“Your behavior has been increasingly erratic, as well,” adds another board member. He came on board a few months ago, and I can never remember his name. He’s got a whiny voice, and so, in my head, he’s always been ‘Mr. Whiny-kins’. Sometimes you’ve gotta keep yourself amused at these board meetings.
“And is it true,” Mr. Whiny-kins goes on, “that we just bought some pigsty in Lower Manhattan?”
“No,” I chime in, “that was something I did with my own cash.”
“Is that supposed to make us feel better?” Ellen asks. “It makes me question your present state of mind.”
I flash them my best ‘let’s-make-deal’ smile. “Well, I’ve got some good news.”
“Terrific,” Lou says, spreading his hands expectantly. “Let’s hear it.”
He and I make eye contact for a moment, and I can read what he’s thinking —Please make this something good so I can support you.
Well, fingers crossed.
I stand up, buttoning my suit jacket.
Then I dive into the pitch, “I’ve got something big brewing.”
Smiles all around. Good start.
I press on, saying, “We have a holding over in Jersey City and also Brooklyn that I want to offload.” Now I watch them all shift uncomfortably. “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of plans for the capital.”
I can tell I’m losing them. They all exchange concerned glances. Ellen looks to Lou for some guidance. Lou considers me a moment.
“All right, Roger,” he finally says. “You’re a smart guy. You’ve never steered us wrong before. Walk us through the plans.”
Here we go.Sorry, Lou, I think. Then I tell them, “I can’t.”
Stunned silence. Better than being shouted at, I guess.
“’Can’t’ what?” Lou asks, a smile frozen on his face.
“Can’t walk you through my plans.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” says Mr. Whiny-kins.
