Syd should have known better. When he told Ann, “Meet me at the Starbucks on Ventura Boulevard,” he should have been more specific. Of course, now that he was in his third Starbucks, scanning the tables for his wife, he realized that Ventura Boulevard alone had forty-seven Starbucks, running the whole length of it. Even in this section of Sherman Oaks, there were more Starbucks than gas stations, one every few blocks. When he added in the Coffee Beans, Tanners, and Peets, Syd came to two inescapable conclusions: One, he was living in a highly caffeinated world, full of hyper, teeth-grinding people who were both highly tolerant of acid and had lots of free time. Two, he might never find Ann.
Indeed, finding Ann was a challenge. It wasn’t until his fifth
Starbucks that he found her, well into her decaf Tiazzi and biscotti.
“Do you know how many Starbucks I’ve been to?” asked Syd, panting, as he collapsed in the chair.
“I always come to this one. You know that.”
How was I supposed to know? he wondered. He was at work every day, and for him, Ann’s daytime comings and goings were mysterious. And exhausting, apparently. Ann often marveled how she had the stamina to do it all. Whatever all was.
“We have a problem,” said Syd, attacking the issue directly. Ann sat up straight, fearing the worst.
“The partners want to sell the dealership, and it’s not a good deal for us. An Internet company needs the license and the land, but not me or the staff. They want to give us all stock and send us on our way.”
“Internet stock?” Ann was intrigued.
“I’m convinced it sounds better than it is. We all get stock, which on paper is a fair—maybe even generous—price for the dealership. But we can’t sell it for one year. If the stock goes up in that time, we’re set for life. If it goes down, whatever plans we have for a pleasant retirement go out the window. The dealership is our retirement account. I always knew that when the time came, I could sell my share and we’d glide off into our golden years. But I always assumed I’d get cash, not stock in some fly-by-night company.”
“Poor Syd,” said Ann, reaching across the table. “No wonder you’ve been so distracted. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You had other things going on. The party, that secession thing …”
“I wish you had told me. I feel stupid talking about my silly little projects when you’re in the middle of this.”
“Well, next time,” said Syd with a laugh.
“What are you going to do?”
“Divide and conquer. At least that’s what I’ve been trying. Brian DeSalvo got the partners worked up with dreams of Internet riches. I’ve been talking to them individually, trying to show them that they could lose everything.”
“Is it working?”
“Not really. I talk to them and they go home, turn on the news, and see another Internet company go public and everyone get rich. They want some of that.”
“Don’t you?”
“I’d love it. But I’m not at an age where I can gamble. This company—it’s called Synergistic—has existed for about fifteen minutes. They started a bunch of Web sites and caused a stir. But they’ve not even come close to making a profit. They manage to lose money on everything they do, but investors keep giving them more money, driving up the stock.
“So now they have this stock that they’ve managed to inflate to some astronomical heights. And they know it’s basically worthless—or, at the very least, worth a fraction of what it’s trading for. They have to strike while they can, and take this inflated stock and gobble up as many businesses as possible. But eventually, it has to catch up with them. More and more of these stocks are plummeting. A lot of these Web sites have already crashed and burned.”
“I feel so bad for you,” said Ann.
“You should feel bad for us. It’s our money.”
“Oh, Syd darling. You’ve taken such good care of me—of all of us—for so long, I don’t even know how to worry. What’s the worst that can happen? We’ll both get jobs. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Imagine how much fun the boys would have if I got a real job? It might be worth it to keep them entertained.”
“Well, don’t go filling out any applications yet. And let’s not tell the boys. But I wanted you to know that it was serious. And that I might be hanging around the house sooner than we expected.”
“Oh God.” Ann sighed. “Then I’d really have to get a job.”
Syd laughed.
“I’ve spent my entire adult life watching you,” said Ann, “and I’ve never seen you come close to failure. You’re the smartest, most resilient man I know. It’s been intimidating. Not just for me but, I think, for the boys, too. We’ve all been in awe of you, even if you don’t know it. I can’t conceive of you not emerging triumphant. You always pull it off, and you know it.”
At the car, Ann gave Syd a hug and sent him on back to the wars. She had meant what she said. Everyone believes in something, and Ann believed with religious fervor that Syd would always take care of her.
If anything, Ann felt bad that she couldn’t be of more help. All this talk about stock and the Internet made her feel inadequate, and right at the time she should be there to help and advise her husband. But how could she have helped when she’d been so busy with her counseling and CUSS and the party? This whole Internet thing had slipped by her, like understanding the situation in Ireland or learning to do the electric slide. Now her inattention had come back to haunt her. It was time to take action, and she knew what action she could take. She took out her cell phone and called Tim.
“Sweetheart, I need you,” she said. “I need to get a computer and get on the Internet. This whole Internet thing has passed me by, and I want to understand it. Could you get me a cheap computer and set me up on the Internet?”
“Sure, it’s easy,” said Tim. “I could pick up a computer at Best Buy and have you up and running in an hour.”
“Could you do it soon?” she asked. “It’s important. And now that I think of it, don’t make the computer too cheap. I like those colored ones you see on the commercials. Maybe a blue or a green one, if they have it. Is that okay?”