technical and business types who used to work for deceased Internet companies. There are lots of printers and good shipping facilities.”
“What about the rents?”
“They’re expensive, but not like New York, and I can work out of my apartment and my post office box for a long time before I need to expand,” she said.
“I can tell you’re a practical businesswoman,” said Larson. “And I know a little about that. What’s the title of your magazine?”
“I’m calling it
“What does that mean?”
“It means nothing and everything. Americans love to think they’re special. Every last one of them, no matter how much of a conformist he is, wants to believe he’s a maverick, an innovator. What people want to believe is what they’ll buy, and lifestyle is everything. So I can do clothes, furniture, houses, music, books, movies, art, food, relationships, and say it’s about them. It doesn’t take much of a pitch to get them to buy an attractive version of themselves. They already like themselves.”
“And you think San Francisco is a good place to do this?”
“Not just a good place,” she said. “The very best place. More huge fads have come out of San Francisco than anywhere, block for block. This was the place to be a beatnik in the fifties. Practically the whole hippie movement in the sixties came from the corner of Haight and Ashbury. The food-worship fad came from restaurants like Chez Panisse in Berkeley in the seventies. The computer revolution came from just down the road in the eighties. It’s wave after wave. Not only will fad watchers pay for the latest from here, but advertisers will pay to be part of the next wave before it leaves here.”
He laughed. “Well, that’s just great. I like everything about it, and I think it’s a good bet to succeed.” He stared at her for a few seconds. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard this trip.”
She saw her chance to move the conversation onto him. “You’ve heard others?”
“Well, yes,” he said. “I feel so comfortable talking to you that I keep forgetting that we don’t actually know each other yet.” He took out his wallet—she caught a thick sheaf of green bills and a platinum card—and slid a business card out with his thumb, then handed it to her.
There was a logo with a pair of longhorns, and a business address in Austin for David Larson Ventures. She held it out for him to take back, but he said, “No, please hold on to it.”
She slipped it into her purse. “So what are David Larson’s ventures?”
“Oh, I make investments.”
“In what?”
“Young companies, mostly start-ups. Anything where I can evaluate the product, the market, the competition, and the costs. I came to meet some people and hear some pitches.”
Rachel Sturbridge let the topic drop to see whether he was going to be a bore who didn’t talk about anything but business. Instead he talked about other restaurants he knew in the Bay Area, an art exhibition he wanted to see while he was in the city, a book he had read on the airplane.
She silently cursed the waiter when he delivered the check. She had not had enough time. When she reached for the check, Larson’s big hand was on the little tray, covering it. He said, “Please. I already know you’re the kind of person who likes to pay her own way, but you would be doing me a kindness to let me have it. You did a great favor to let me join you, and it’s all I can do in return.”
“Well, all right.” When the waiter took his card and went away, she said, “Thank you.”
She pretended not to pay any attention to the check after that, but she had found that the way people treated servers could be an early indication of unpleasant qualities. She excused herself to go to the ladies’ room at the right moment and looked down at it over his shoulder. He was a generous tipper. When she returned, she said, “I would like to take you out for an after-dinner drink. There’s a place near here that’s quiet.”
He seemed taken aback. “I would be absolutely delighted.” He stood up, then said, “How near?”
“Two hundred feet.” They walked down the street to the bar of the Pan Pacific hotel, just off the huge white marble lobby. They sat at a table and ordered drinks. He said, “I gave you my business card. Have you had any cards printed yet?”
“No,” she said. “I haven’t hired my designer yet, and I want to be sure everything has the right look.”
He produced another card of his and a pen and set them on the table in front of her. “Then please write a number where I can reach you.”
She hesitated, then wrote the phone number at her house. They had their drink, but before either of them had finished it, she said, “I’ve got to get up early and meet with a photographer to look at his portfolio.” He put her in a taxi in front of the hotel, and she went back to her house feeling pleased with herself for timing her exit to pique his interest.
The next day she got up early and walked to a newsstand on Market Street to buy the Portland
The second dinner with David was at the Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton on Nob Hill, and it went better than the first for Rachel Sturbridge. Just after their entrees were served, he said, “You know, I’ve been thinking. I would like to buy a half interest in your magazine.”
She smiled and shook her head. “There is no magazine yet. How can I sell it?”
“That’s why I’m offering now. I’m betting you’re going to be so successful that it will be too expensive to buy in later. I bring you capital and business knowledge, and you bring me the idea, the talent, and the effort. That’s how start-ups work.”
“That’s very flattering,” she said. “But let’s not be in a rush.”
“Why the delay?”
“I’m going to ask for fifty billion dollars, and I need to give you time to raise it.”
He laughed and touched her hand. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s why I’m willing to bet on you. I wanted to make you the offer before I left for Austin, but that doesn’t mean I need the answer by then.”
“When are you going back?”
He looked unhappy, as though he had been dreading the subject. “On Friday. I hate to do it, but I have a meeting that afternoon, and I’ve already postponed it once.”
“That’s only two days.”
“One, really. I leave early Friday morning.”
“Is it that important?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. People are coming from New York and London.”
She couldn’t let him go this way. She knew that he had been enjoying his time with her, and that she was rapidly making an impression on him. But he was a rich man in his fifties. He had met a great many attractive women by now, and he probably met more every month. She had not yet had time to reach the point where she would not simply fade into his memory with all of the others. She had to do something quickly. “Then you’ll have to go. But can I take you out for a farewell dinner tomorrow night?”
He looked surprised. “Thank you. I’d love that. But it shouldn’t sound so final. You and I are going to be partners, just as soon as I raise that fifty billion.”
The third dinner was at the Fairmont. Once they were past the lobby, with its high, vaulted ceiling and marble columns, David seemed to relax. There was a quiet, comfortable quality to their conversation. He told her stories about his childhood in Texas, his business associates, his friends. When the waiter asked whether they would like anything else, Rachel said, “No, thank you.” He asked, “Would you like to charge it to your room?” She said, “Yes.”
David met her eyes, and she shrugged. “Another cat out of the bag.”
He said, “You’re staying here?”
“I reserved a suite when I made the reservation. The view from the tower rooms is one of the best in the city. I thought it might be a nice way to be sure you didn’t forget me as soon as you got back to Texas.”
