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THE NEXT MORNING, I woke early after a restless sleep to find that I was alone in our bed. I sat up, and looked around the room and then over at the bedroom door, which was partly closed.
I smelled coffee.
How long has he been up?
I looked at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was only four-thirty, which meant that pre-market trading already had begun. With a sense of trepidation, I got out of bed, found my white silk robe draped over the padded bench at the end of it, and slipped it over my naked body.
“Alex?” I called.
“In my office, Jennifer.”
Before leaving the bedroom, I went quickly into the adjoining bathroom. I used the facilities, and then splashed cold water on my face, ran a brush through my hair, and put moisturizer on my face. I was still vain enough in my marriage that I only ever wanted Alex to see me at least looking reasonably good, even though I knew that he couldn’t care less about that. But still...I wasn’t about to not make an effort. The last thing he needed to see was that his wife had turned into a horror show.
Once I’d brushed my teeth and done the best I could with myself without taking a shower and covering my face with the works, I left the bedroom and stepped into the living space just as Alex emerged from his office.
I knew why he was up so early—he’d been on his computer, tracking Wenn’s stock, and reading what was being said about him and Wenn in today’s papers and blogs. He wore nothing but his pale gray boxer briefs, and his hair was skewed to one side in a way that I thought looked sexy as hell. The stubble on his face that I adored so much was in full show now—as were his dimples. The sight of him shirtless and looking so happy to see me made me melt. He came over to me, pulled me into his arms, kissed me on the mouth, and asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee.
“That would be wonderful,” I said. “But let me get it.”
“I’ll get it for you. And by the way, you didn’t have to brush your teeth for me. Or do your hair. Or do whatever else you’ve done.”
“Oh yes I did. After what you put me through last night, I looked like hell. You deserve better than that.”
“Actually, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”
I watched him move into the kitchen, and I tried to sense his mood. He seemed to be his usual self, but I knew him so well at this point that I sensed an undercurrent. Was something wrong? I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t about to jump in now and ask him where our stock was or what was being said about him and Wenn online. Now wasn’t the time.
I watched him as he pulled a cup from one of the cupboards and filled it with coffee, cream, and sugar. He gave it a quick stir and then walked over to me with a smile.
And that’s when I knew—his smile was strained. It wasn’t real. It was a smile meant to set me at ease.
I took the cup when he offered it to me and sipped.
“You’re up early,” I said.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“How long have you been up?”
“About an hour. Would you like some breakfast? I’m not hungry, but I can make you some eggs if you’d like. Or whatever you want. Just name it.”
Alex and I had never been big on small talk. So, I sat down at the breakfast bar and brought my coffee to my lips. “What’s going on, Alex?”
“How about if you finish your coffee first?”
“There’s no need to—I’m awake. What’s the news?”
“It’s a mix,” he said.
“So pro and con?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s the ratio?”
“More con than pro.”
“Sit with me?” I asked.
He did, and when he did, I wrapped my arm around his bare shoulders.
“Where is Wenn’s stock now?”
“We fell two points since yesterday’s close. And so far in early trading, we’ve lost another three points.”
I knew what that meant, and I braced myself for it. Investors would see that five-point decline as additional unrest. More could bail when the markets opened at nine-thirty. But that could turn around depending on what the press was saying. So I asked him.
“Let’s begin with the big ones,” I said. “What is the Times saying?”
“Fair and balanced, as you’d expect. It’s an in-depth article that ends on a positive note. As far as they’re concerned, the initial numbers for the SlimPhone are beyond impressive, but they worry about it going forward in a market that’s ‘overcrowded with other phones’—as they put it—which, of course, it is.”
“What else did they say?”
“That Wenn was diverse, which is good. The reporter, Michael Hayes, did his homework, and he obviously listened to me at the press conference. There was a lot of positive information in his article. He touched on everything, including Wenn Pharmaceutical—and the potential billions our new drug could make for Wenn. He even mentioned Wenn Publishing and noted that it saw a large spike last quarter due especially to Lisa’s book. In the end, he wrote that the correction in our stock was overstated, and that he considers Wenn a strong buy.”
“Well, that’s great,” I said.
“The problem is that he’s just one reporter.”
“What did the Journal have to say?”
“They were more critical.”
“How critical?”
“They actually reviewed the phone against our competition, and, as much as they liked it, they think we didn’t go far enough. They think we should have given it more memory, and a more robust chip, and a larger screen, even though we bested what the top phones are offering. They wanted to see more. They wanted a game changer, which they believe the market needs right now. They liked the design and the interface, but their concern is that we have only one phone on the market, while others—such as Apple and Samsung—have several. They’re worried about that. We have only one entry point into the market—our competition has several. They also think our phone is pricey, which it isn’t—the number of units we’ve moved tells us that. They wondered if our price will slow sales going forward.”
“Is that all they reported on? The phone?”
“No. The good news is that they also mentioned how diversified we are, but the bad news is that part was buried in their story. They said that our diversification has always been our strength. Several inches were given to the success of Wenn Publishing and Wenn Pharmaceutical. They especially gave us major points for Pharmaceutical, particularly—as you’d expect—with what’s coming from them. But they consider our stock a ‘hold,’ not a ‘sell’ or a ‘buy’.”
“How about Business Week and Bloomberg?”
“They were more in line with the Journal than they were with the Times. But they did say good things.”
“How about The Motley Fool?”
“They consider us a ‘sell.’”
“Seriously?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And the others?”
“All negative.”
I processed that for a moment, and then I said, “The good news is that investors don’t read the Post or the Daily Mail—and they certainly don’t take them seriously. If they’re looking for information on where to put their money, they’re going to the other four first, beginning with the Times and the Journal. The Fool fucked us, but they deal mostly with day traders, and not with serious investors—such as a fund manager. It seems as if the most critical to us at least offered a balanced opinion that’s open to consideration and evaluation.”
“Agreed. Look, I have my own ideas about how we address this going forward, but I’d like to hear your ideas.”
“Yesterday, you wanted the press to come to you, and they did. Today is another day. Our stock is already down five points, so we need to be proactive and go to them. You need to be profiled in features. You need to have a real conversation that will reach the masses. Have you talked to Robert in PR yet?”
“I was about to call him.”
“Get him on the phone ASAP. You need to offer one-on-one interviews to every thought-leader that matters. Sit with the Times, the Journal, Business Week, Bloomberg. Call Robert and have his team arrange those interviews for you today. As in the next hour. This is a hot story—people will jump at the chance to have at you. My advice is the same as it was yesterday—keep your focus positive, on point, and upbeat, because that’s where it needs to be. The market has overreacted. Wenn has too much going for it not to be a buy. Wenn is a blue-chip stock. Getting the press on board for interviews this morning and afternoon shouldn’t be an issue. But listen to me here—limit each interview to thirty minutes. They’re going to be hungry to get to you. What you need to do is to serve them your message via their questions. If you’re asked something that seems unfair, deflect it—and spin it. Does that sound workable for you?”
“I can handle that.”
“I know you can.”
“But we have an event to go to tonight.”
“I know we do—Henri Dufort’s party. Given what happened on his rooftop with Jake Kobus, who nearly killed me, I’d rather not go back there. But things have changed. Jake is dead. Gordon Kobus is out of our lives. So I think we should go forward with it for a key reason. Now is not the time to back out of anything as high profile as this event. Now is not the time to disappear from sight. Instead, we must follow through with all commitments, and show the world that, as Wenn’s CEO, you are not even flinching at the drop in Wenn’s stock. The party isn’t until eight. If Robert puts out feelers now, you’ll have a full morning and afternoon of interviews. The board will see that you’ve made a significant effort. They’ll be pleased that you did. They’ll see that you’re not taking this lying down. When you’re finished with the interviews, we’ll have something quick to eat, and then we’ll get ready for the party.”
“With the entire board in town, you do realize that most—if not all—of them will be at Henri’s tonight? They’re all friends with him.” He rolled his eyes. “But who isn’t friends with that man?”
“Well, he is likable. And he is Henri Dufort.”
“True enough.”
“You know, this party might be an opportunity.”
“How so?”
“What better way to gauge how people are feeling after seeing what the stock does today? I need you to get in front of this story again, Alex, because right now? In the business world? It’s the biggest story out there. You need to drive it the best way you can. Call Robert now and get him on it. Who gives a damn if he loses a bit of beauty sleep because of it? You certainly pay him enough. My recommendation is that you get him on the phone, and have him start to put things into motion in the next hour.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Great minds.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mrs. Wenn.”
My heart warmed when he called me that because I knew that I’d never tire of hearing it. Whatever happened, I’d always have his back—and he would have mine. He was the love of my life, and I was damned if we were going to go down without a fight.
“Funny,” I said with a kiss on his cheek. “That’s just what I was thinking, Mr. Wenn—only about you.”
* * *
WHEN ALEX WAS IN THE shower, my cell rang from the entryway, where I’d dropped my clutch the night before. I went to it, retrieved it, and saw that it was Blackwell.
And how will your mood be today? I wondered.
“Barbara—I’m surprised to hear from you.”
“Like hell you are. You’ve been waiting me out.”
“No I haven’t.”
“Oh, the lies—the lies. They rain down on me like tears from a crocodile.”
“I’m not lying. We’ve been a little busy over here.”
“Getting busy?”
“That’s not what I said, and you know it.” But I had to stifle a laugh and take a deep breath, knowing from that comment alone that we were going to be fine.
Her tone softened. “So you have been busy,” she said. “Understood. Look, let’s just cut to it and put this nonsense behind us. I’m sorry we exchanged words yesterday. That wasn’t my intent. I think our emotions were running high, and I got carried away. I’m just concerned, Jennifer. That’s all. And it’s only compounded by the fact that Wenn’s stock hasn’t seen the jump I was hoping to see this morning, especially after the excellent press conference Alex gave.”
“You mean the one that didn’t have the board’s full support?”
“Yes, that one. The bastards. What do you and Alex have in mind for today?”
“Alex has talked to Robert in PR, who is now lining up a slew of one-on-one interviews for him this morning and afternoon. It will help. And I agree. I’m also sorry—we’re too close to behave the way we did yesterday. I never should have walked out on you like that. I apologize.”
“Well, at least you did it with panache.”
“I was going for bravado.”
“Oh, you had that, too. You swung that door like a champ, which naturally I respected. And I can’t blame you for doing so. Things became tense for good reasons, none of which were personal.”
“All of that’s behind us now. It’s gone.”
“Like an IQ point off a Kardashian, as if they can spare one. You know, a thought occurred to me just yesterday about those curvy little harlots. How in the hell do they wax down there? Or do they even bother? One can trim the grass, you know, but it’s a hell of a lot tougher to fell a forest. Still, they must do something since they’re found naked so often. But who has the verve to go through with it? Is there even enough wax to cut through all of that hair? Or have they had electrolysis? Their mother would have seen to that. So, I vote for the latter, though I can’t imagine the pain involved. Zap, zap, zap—times one billion.”
“Are you finished?”
“I’m just warming up.” She paused. “Can I tell you something?”
“You can tell me anything.”
“Maybe not this....”
“Just spill it.”
“I had a nightmare last night. It was as awful as last fall’s collection. I saw a meteor shower heading straight toward my head while I was at Wenn.”
“Shall I refer to you now as Chicken Little?”
“I’d prefer Little Roughage. Or Lotta Ice. That would be more appropriate.”
“OK, Little Roughage, here’s my advice to you—stop dreaming.”
“You’ll probably say that one day to your own child. You’ll probably steal away his or her dreams. Dampen them. Occlude them.”
“Children are a ways off, so it’s best if you don’t worry about that now.”
“You’ll crush them—I know it.”
“Don’t make me laugh. Now isn’t the time. Alex is getting ready. I need to be serious.”
And that’s when Blackwell became the maternal figure I knew so well. “There is always time for laughter, Jennifer. Never forget that. I’ve often said that our work saves us, and it does. But laughter also does, especially during the most difficult and trying of circumstances. So, on that note, we have a minor crisis on our hands.”
“What crisis?”
“The dress you’re wearing tonight. It’s all wrong.”
For a moment, I just pulled my phone away from my ear and looked at it in disbelief. This was what she was calling about? A dress? Really? Sometimes, just when I thought I understood Blackwell, she’d pull something like this out of her ass when a dress, of all things, should be the very last thing we were concerned about.
“Since when does a dress constitute a crisis?”
“Since Monica Lewinsky, for one. Oh, when will you ever learn the importance of fashion?” she said. “When will its importance ever sink into that head of yours?”
“All right,” I said. “Fine. Hit me with its importance. What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the press who will be in attendance at Dufort’s party tonight. I had you wearing black. Black! Which now can be interpreted as ‘Death of Wenn’. But right now? In our situation? Black won’t do. You need something that doesn’t say ‘mourning’. You need something that says ‘confident.’ ‘Successful.’ ‘Powerful.’ You need to shine tonight. More than ever before, you need to look your best—your most radiant. You need to look the prettiest anyone has ever seen you, because—and don’t doubt me on this, girl—they’ll all be judging you. You can plan on that. They’ll be watching you and Alex, and looking for whatever cracks they can find. I’m not worried about Alex. He just needs to show up looking smashing in a tux. But you? You need to be a beacon of light. You need to slay every woman there. So, what are your plans for today?”
“Why?”
“Because we have to find you a new dress. A bright dress. A bright, bold, red dress. Something divoon to the tenth power. You’ll also need new jewels. So either bring along your credit card, or I’ll bring my corporate card. Doesn’t matter. Wenn is Wenn—they’ll pay the bills. Have you eaten yet?”
“No.”
“Good! Don’t you dare eat. Not at all today. If you must, nibble on a raisin—but just one. And don’t you dare finish it!”
“Seriously? You expect me not to eat for the entire day?”
“I need you looking your best. Flat, flat, flat. Slim, slim, slim. If your tummy feels bloated, then eat a boatload of roughage and let nature take its course. That should clean you out. I’ve proved it to you before.”
“I got almost no sleep last night, Barbara. How are the circles beneath my eyes going to help me look my best?”
“Bernie is a magician. You know he has special powers. He’ll do his voodoo on you. He’ll say smoky words, cast melodic spells, and then he’ll eradicate any trace of fatigue from that face of yours.”
“In other words, he’ll just use some kind of fancy concealer.”
“Oh, how you diminish him!”
“Are you jacked up on caffeine right now?”
“Why wouldn’t I be—tonight is more critical than you think. When can I pick you up? Time is of the essence. I have an appointment for us at Bergdorf’s. They’re willing to open the store early just for us, but we need to move on it—before the others come.”
“The others?”
“The people,” she said. Her voice lowered a notch. “The tourists.”
“You’re such a snob.”
“I’m a businesswoman who understands that, even if we find the right dress, they’re still going to have to tailor it to fit that ass of yours. No small feat that. With your stature in this city now, don’t be surprised if you receive a note asking if your ass can be hoisted up at the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Hell, it could be a float at this point. When can you be ready?”
“Ninety minutes.”
“Make it sixty.”
“But Alex is in the shower now.”
“Oh, please. Oh, Maine. Then get in the shower with him—but for the love of all things Dior, just keep it to the soap. Now, get yourself ready. Wear something pretty that’s simple to slip out of. God knows how many dresses we’ll need to try on before we find the right one. And don’t you dare disappoint me—the press is going to be outside of your apartment the moment you leave. They’ll have cameras. They’ll snap photos of you. I want you looking smart and chic, and your face better match your look with full makeup and a contented smile. Are we good?”
“We’re good.”
“So, I’ll pick you up in sixty minutes?”
“Seventy.”
“Sixty.”
“Fine. I’ll see you in an hour. But Barbara?”
“What?”
“You better have one massive cup of coffee in that car for me if you want me to get through the day.”
