go away.”
“Right now I just feel numb all over.”
“That’s normal. Now, if you need the nurse or me, just use your bedside buzzer, and we’ll be here. In any case, I’ll stop by to see you again before I leave the office, around seven.”
“Thank you, Dr. Charles.”
The doctor left, and Shelley drifted off to sleep again.
Herbie dialed the number, and a woman with a British accent answered. “The Holbrooke Group, good morning.”
“Kent Holbrooke, please.”
“And who may I say is calling?”
“Herbert Fisher, of Woodman and Weld.”
A moment later, Holbrooke came on the line. “Herb Fisher?”
“That’s me.”
“Marshall Brennan says good things about you.”
“Marshall is my smartest client.”
“We need to get together. Where do you want to do it?”
“If you want to see what we look like, you can come here, otherwise I’m happy to come there or meet you somewhere.”
“There’s nothing to see here except a lot of steel furniture and grubby offices. You’re in the Seagram Building, right?”
“Right.” Herbie gave him the floor number.
“I’ll come over just as soon as the market closes. See ya.” He hung up.
Herbie pressed a button. “Cookie, a Mr. Kent Holbrooke is coming over around four-thirty or five.”
“I’ll stay until we’ve got him settled,” Cookie replied.
“You can ask him if he wants a drink,” Herbie said.
At five sharp, Cookie ushered Kent Holbrooke into Herbie’s office, and they shook hands. Holbrooke settled into the sofa.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Cookie asked.
“You got a single-malt scotch?”
“How about Laphroaig?”
“Perfect. No ice, just a splash.”
Cookie made the drink and poured Herbie a Knob Creek, then made her escape.
“Nice office,” Kent said, looking around.
“Thank you.”
“You’re pretty young, Herb. How long have you been a partner at Woodman and Weld?”
“I’m a senior associate, one rung below partner.”
“Oh, right, Marshall mentioned that. I’ve never dealt with a lawyer who wasn’t a partner in his firm.”
“You’ll get more attention and faster results from a hungry senior associate,” Herbie said.
“Good point.”
“Tell me about your business,” Herbie said.
“Businesses. I’m involved in a dozen or fifteen, I keep losing track of how many.”
“How are you typically involved?”
“Sometimes just as a venture capitalist. I prefer that with tech stuff that I don’t have a deep understanding of. Sometimes in partnerships, and sometimes I own the business.”
“Are they all techs?”
“Oh, no. I don’t care what the business is, just as long as it produces profits. For instance, I own a little group of three fancy dry cleaners and laundries called Jasper’s.”
“Then I am your customer,” Herbie said. “You do all my suits and shirts.”
“And they’re all running full blast,” Kent said. “I’m thinking of opening on the Upper West Side.”
“Why don’t you centralize the work and put on a second shift?”
“That’s a thought.”
“And if it’s working so well, why don’t you franchise?” Herbie asked.
Kent looked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know anything about franchising,” he said.
“All you need is a law firm that does.”
“Are you a franchising specialist?”
“I’m a generalist. My job is to put together a team of the right people in the firm and liaise between you and them.”
“All right, I’ll put you to work,” Kent said.
“Would you like me to put together a presentation on franchising Jasper’s?”
“Sure, that’s a good start. I understand you’re representing one of Marshall’s start-ups. I’ve got a couple of those that could use some legal and accounting structuring. The techies know everything about tech, and nothing about business.”
Herbie handed him a legal pad. “Give me some names and numbers, and I’ll go see them. Nothing that will conflict with Marshall’s start-up, though.”
Kent took the pad and began writing.
There was a knock at the door, and Bill Eggers walked in. “I’m sorry, am I disturbing you?”
“No, come in, Bill, and meet Kent Holbrooke, of the Holbrooke Group.”
They shook hands.
“We’re going to put together a presentation on franchising a group of high-end laundry/dry cleaners called Jasper’s that Kent owns.”
“Of course,” Eggers said. “My wife and I are your clients.”
“I’m liking Woodman and Weld better and better,” Kent said.
28
Dink Brennan sat in a circle of chairs and gazed at the seven other people occupying them. They were a mixed bag of people, but they were all well dressed and carefully groomed. Dink’s guess was that this place didn’t take Medicaid.
The psychiatrist ended the session, and an orderly came in and whispered to Dink, “You have a visitor in the main lounge.”
Finally, Dink thought. He had been there a week and was clean of any drug, but they weren’t going to let him out of there so easily, so he was going to have to keep doing business from there.
He walked into the main lounge, which looked more like the lobby of a chic SoHo hotel, and saw Parker Mosely, his roommate at Yale, waiting for him. They shook hands and sat down.
“How they treating you, Dink?” Parker asked.
“About how you’d expect. I’ve blinded them with cooperation. They make us clean our own rooms, and you should see mine: neat as a pin.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I can do it when I want to. Anyway, they seem to look at a neat room as proof of character, so I’ve had a head start since day one.”
“You got a shave and a haircut, too.”
“Yeah, more proof of character. All I had in my blood when they tested it was a little grass. My plan is to make them think my old man overreacted by sending me here, that I don’t really belong. In fact, I’ve already started working on the psychiatrist to get him thinking that the old man is the problem, not me.”
“Smart.” Parker looked around the room casually, then slipped a small book envelope to Dink. “Here’s the
