Peter Cohen at Morgan Stanley is looking for an LBO-he might be interested.”
George looked at Jack. “What do you think?”
Jack’s former boss was Peter Cohen, Morgan’s chairman and chief executive. “I think Peter would be very interested,” he said. “Morgan is still trying to get back into the LBO business and I happen to know that Peter is under pressure to save their third-quarter earnings, which are expected to be down. A one-shot injection of, say, $100 to $200 million might be the opportunity he’s been waiting for.”
“Good,” George said. “Because we have to move fast. If I wait much longer, Iran could learn of the Navy’s move-and if that happens, there’s no question they’ll withdraw their offer.”
He stepped away from the window and sat in his chair. There was a sudden energy about George, a vitality that glimmered in his eyes and animated his features. “My sources at the State and Defense departments say that the Navy will begin its move on July 21. I’ve already spoken to my contacts at Lloyds, and they’ve agreed to cut their insurance rates in half when the Navy is stationed in the Gulf.”
“Where do I come into all this?” Jack asked.
“You mean besides your connections at Morgan Stanley, which might prove invaluable? On the day WestTex becomes ours, you, Celina and Harold Baines will be signing the final papers in Iran. It’s all just a formality, really-by then, the papers will have been drawn up and vetted. But obviously, it’s an important formality. If I take over WestTex without having secured this deal with Iran, I could lose everything I’ve ever worked for if they decide to back out.”
“Why don’t you just complete the deal with Iran first?”
George looked wistful. “I wish I could, but Iran won’t allow it. Only when WestTex is ours will they sign the final papers. They refuse to commit themselves otherwise.”
Jack couldn’t still a sense of apprehension. The risk this man was taking was great. He found himself admiring Redman, but also wondering how the man slept at night. “Are you sure this is the right move?” he asked.
“No,” George said. “But I didn’t get where I am without taking risks. I think this one is calculated. I feel good about it, so I’m going for it.” He stood. “I think you and Harold should meet before the trip. How does dinner sound?”
“Fine,” Jack said. “I’m free anytime.” He looked at Celina, who was flipping through a file on WestTex. He had been waiting all afternoon for a moment like this. “Why don’t you join us?” he asked casually.
Celina looked at him, surprised and speechless. She was about to refuse when her father said, “That’s a good idea. This way, you all can get to know one another before the trip.”
Eric Parker was there, but now only in the back of her mind. As her dinner date with Jack drew nearer, Celina found herself thinking more and more about him.
At board meetings, he would enter her thoughts by surprise. At business dinners, she would remember his smile and how they first met. In cabs headed cross-town, her mind would wander into his personal life. When he wasn’t at work, how did he spend his time? He seemed athletic. Was he on a team of some sort? Did he belong to a gym? And where did he live? Near her? On the West side? Downtown?
And her thoughts deepened. She wondered if he was seeing anyone.
She began to imagine the kind of woman he was interested in. She would be pretty, of course, but not so pretty that she didn't want to get her hands dirty. Somehow, she sensed that looks were less important to him than intelligence. And he would want someone who had a sense of humor; someone witty like himself, but not cruel or cutting. As the days passed, she imagined endless possibilities-but then, on the eve of their dinner date, she put an end to it.
This is crazy, she thought. Not only have I just ended a relationship, but once WestTex and the deal with Iran is secured, there will be more problems, more responsibilities and less time for me. This man should be furthest from my mind.
She was thinking this as she slipped into the black silk dress she purchased earlier that morning at Saks. Besides, it isn’t as though we’re going to be alone at dinner. Harold will be there. I’m simply a businesswoman attending a business dinner with my business colleagues.
She stepped in front of the bedroom mirror. The dress was short and chic and clung to her body, exposing her tanned shoulders, accenting her long legs. Studying herself, she wondered what had happened to the businesswoman, wondered what Jack Douglas would think if she arrived at the restaurant looking like this.
She reached into her closet and removed a black Chanel jacket. She put it on and turned before the mirror, inspecting the more conservative version. “That’s more like it,” she said.
But when she left her apartment, it was without the jacket.
When she arrived at the restaurant, she was led by the captain into a room filled with bouquets of fresh flowers, people dining at elegantly appointed tables, a man playing piano in the center of the warmly lit room. Jack Douglas was already seated at their table and he stood as she approached.
“You look terrific,” he said.
Celina thanked him and, as the captain pulled out her chair and she sat down, she noted the expensive navy blue suit Jack wore, his recently trimmed hair. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said. “Harold’s not with you?”
Jack shook his head. “I thought he’d be with you.” He looked at the captain, who was standing beside them, and asked Celina what she would like to drink. “A bottle of champagne?”
Celina regarded him with a smile-this man did not drink champagne. Although he seemed perfectly at ease at this restaurant, she sensed he would rather be dining at a Village cafe, cutting into a thick steak, drinking a cold beer. “I was thinking more on the line of having a beer,” she said. “Does that sound all right with you?”
Delighted, Jack grinned. “Sounds fine to me,” he said. “But I drink from the bottle.”
“Oh,' she said, smiling. 'I was hoping for a chilled glass.'
And it was that simple.
The beers came and they began to talk.
“Why’d you leave Morgan?” Celina asked. “You made a name for yourself. Things were happening. Why leave?”
Jack shrugged. “The pressure wasn’t worth the money and the money wasn’t worth the hassle of putting up with a room full of bond traders-most of whom would kill their mother if they thought her life would cut a better deal.”
He look a long pull from his beer. “Besides, there’s a lot going down that nobody knows about. A lot of inside deals. I’ve been offered an obscene amount of money for a whisper of information, but I don’t want any part of it. These people haven’t learned. When Wall Street collapses again-and it will, before you know it, really-I didn’t want to be anywhere near the place when the concrete begins to fall.”
He straightened. “So tell me about yourself,” he said. “When did you decide that working at Redman International was for you?”
“You’re assuming I had a choice,” Celina said. “When I was a kid, my father used to bring me to each month’s board meeting. I’d sit in a special corner chair while he hammered out deal after deal. He was mesmerizing. The board loved him. At night, I’d pretend I was him. I’d stand in front of my bedroom mirror and mimic the way he stood before the board-arms crossed, feet spaced firmly apart-pretending I was the one in charge. Believe me, I know it sounds cheesy, but at the time I was enthralled. My father was my hero.”
“Is he now?”
Although she said, “Yes, of course,” Celina wasn’t sure. After the incident with Eric Parker and her father’s reaction to it, her feelings had shifted toward George in ways she couldn’t quite describe.
The conversation turned and they laughed and joked about how they met and how Jack was planning on buying a new car. They talked with ease, as if they were old friends catching up over dinner. From time to time, Jack would touch Celina’s hand to make a point. From time to time, Celina would do the same.
When the waiter brought the second round of beers, Celina excused herself and left to use her cell phone. She called Harold at home. It was his wife, Helen, who answered.
