“Isn’t it your job to nurture her, Nectar?” Eve asked, her eyebrows raised.
“Yes, but I’m not her mama. The child needs someone who’s not paid to be her parent. “’Tis such fools as you that makes the world full of ill-favored children.’”
“Let me guess,” Eve said, “Shakespeare.”
“I have to agree with Shakespeare…I mean Nectar,” Dr. Perlmutter added.
“Me, too,” Junior added.
“Me, too,” said Yok Wah.
“Point taken,” Eve said officiously. “Christy, why don’t we meet after everyone leaves? We’ll juggle things around, schedule more bonding time.”
“Right,” Christy said, feeling a sense of emptiness without knowing why. “Block out two hours for me to take her to the cemetery today.” Is Michael right? she wondered. Maybe this is no way to raise a child. But what can I do? There isn’t enough time in the day. Maria, what were you thinking? I don’t want to let you down. And I really don’t want to let Renata down. Could I be missing the basic mommy gene?
Halibut, Honor, and Humiliation
The theme of the Matrix Awards this year was “Fearless Women.” The luncheon was as glitzy as ever, with awards presented by media luminaries even more impressive than the winners. Goldie Hawn was giving Christy her award. She was inhibited to be in the presence of such a celebrity, but she tried to act like this was an everyday thing. Still, she knew that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be as fabulous as Goldie. Christy wondered if there would ever be a day when she wouldn’t feel inadequate. Where was that unbridled confidence that was supposed to go along with being a CEO?
At the last minute, Katherine couldn’t make the ceremony. Some sort of problem with Alex at school. Katherine had her assistant let Christy’s assistant know. Christy understood these kinds of emergencies now. But she was disappointed.
When no one was looking, Christy rearranged the place cards to seat herself next to Galit at the luncheon. She would crack that reporter if it killed her. Galit was one tough lady. Although, Christy supposed, you had to be tough to serve in the Israeli elite forces. She could just imagine Galit in a camouflage miniskirt brandishing an Uzi and wiping out a band of angry insurgents.
When they first sat down, Galit didn’t remember who Christy was. This was doubly maddening because Christy was wearing a name tag. Once she was reminded, Galit asked how things were at the company.
“Great, things are just great. Sales are up. Profits are up.”
“Mmm-mmm,” Galit mumbled.
Mmm-mmm? What does that mean? Christy wondered. “How are things at the Journal?” she asked.
“Busy as always. Companies are coming out with earnings statements. It’s our version of Christmas season.”
“Yes, I guess it is,” Christy said, willing herself to be interested in this creature whose job it was to make CEOs’ lives a living hell. “I’m surprised at how bland the food is, aren’t you? I’d expect more from the Waldorf.” Jeez, did I really say that? Christy was unable to muster her legendary charisma in the face of this cold fish.
“These lunches are all the same. Poached salmon. Roasted potatoes, steamed carrots, coffee, and a fruit tart. I always eat before coming,” Galit said, in the tone of a woman who would never leave any detail of her life to fate.
“That’s smart. I should do that.” Christy wasn’t giving up, no matter how unlikable Galit was. Charming her would do more for her business than a string of perfect quarters. “Tell me, are you working on a book these days? I enjoyed your Ian Malik bio.”
“Thanks,” Galit said coolly. “I haven’t settled on a subject yet. I like covering business leaders who aren’t overly publicized.”
“Malik’s had his share of media attention,” Christy said.
“Yes, but he rarely gave interviews. Malik ‘the man’ was still a mystery to most people.”
“You should consider doing my husband, Michael Drummond,” Christy said, trying to melt the icicle sitting next to her. “He’s a complicated guy, very interesting, always follows his own path.”
“Michael’s the ultimate outsider, that’s for sure,” Galit said. “He keeps a low profile.”
“He’s been burned by the press, so he’s cautious about being too public. Anyway, he doesn’t need the exposure. He owns the majority shares of his company, and his products speak for themselves.”
Galit’s demeanor changed. “Do you think he’d be interested in cooperating on a biography?” she asked, leaning in, giving Christy’s arm a meaningful touch.
“I could ask. Or, better yet, here’s his private number,” Christy said, reaching into her purse for a card. “Give him a call and tell him I suggested it. I’ll mention you might call. But don’t try till next week. He’s in California for the next few days.” Christy knew she was being worked, but somehow Galit’s attention was like a potent drug, even on her. And she needed this woman.
“Listen, Christy, I want to give you a heads-up. The Journal’s going to press with a pretty damaging article about you. It’s scheduled to run tomorrow.”
“About me? What are you talking about?” Christy asked.
“I’m talking about your sex life,” Galit explained.
“Sex life? The Financial Journal? Why on earth would a business paper run an article about my sex life? Did you write it?” Christy asked.
“No, it’s not me. No one called you for a quote?”
“I’ve been out all day, but the office has my cell number.”
“They probably left a message. The reporter is Alan Hooper. I’ll write down his number for you.” Galit took a pen out of her purse and jotted the information on her card.
“Do you guys have something against me? Why all the negative press?”
“When we get a newsworthy tip, we investigate. That’s our job. Give Alan a call. Maybe you can offer some balancing information.” Galit looked at her with such empathy that Christy knew she was in deep shit.
“Thanks, I’ll do it.” Damn, Christy thought. This
