Harold sat at the table and tried to stifle the shaking of his legs. He was beginning to sweat in his hands, a terrible problem that had plagued him since childhood. He gripped the polyester cloth napkin in his right hand, and shifted a glance around the room. Jessica cleaned up quite nicely, a beautiful girl with a slender figure that betrayed subtle curves; all of this topped off by a sharp, dazzling smile.
“Jessica,” he said, “I'm afraid you may have out done yourself.” He smiled in the manner of an old southern gentleman and let the words come out in a drawl. It was not often that he made jokes, so Jessica was truly pleased. He listened to her laugh, a lovely sound, deep enough to sound inviting with enough volume as to be non-offensive.
Madoff wasn't here, and this was getting a bit tiresome. She asked, “What will you do with the money from this deal?” It was an honest question, free from comments about drinks or the setting.
“In a place like this, with a meal like what we're about to eat? What is it that you want to know? What I'll do with my money? I don't know, the same as any business man, invest it so I can make more of it. Honestly, so much promise and talent yet such a small brain!”
“Need I remind you of what you're saying? My dear Mr. Crowley, you would not last a week without me. I know it for a fact; furthermore, I'd take the stand over it.” She smiled at him, he looked at her teeth.
A moment. He took a sip of his drink, then said, “Would that it would be so, my dear Ms. Reynolds. I'm afraid I'm quite booked for the year. And if the good Mr. Madoff would make his way here so that I may speak with him, I should very much like to return to my home, and my work.”
“Always so preoccupied with work. Don't you see that things are under control? Why do you worry so much about work? Look at where we are, and ask yourself this: why should I invest my money when I can do something good with it?” She held her hands to her cheeks, a rare gesture of her feminine self, he'd call it cute, if that word was in his vocabulary.
“What do you propose I do with it?”
“Why, if I knew that, I'd be a mind reader. All I can tell you would be what I would do with it.”
It was at this moment that Mr. Madoff entered the room. A small stout man with a pudgy nose and bulging stomach. He walked like a hippo with a beer gut through the crowd. When he sat down, a thin cloud of a fine scented oil wafted toward their noses. “where, in God's name, is the waiter? Jesus! You'd think I have to travel halfway around the goddamned world to get some service! This is Los Angeles! The most culturally rich city in the world and I can't get a glass of wine! You'll have to pardon me, I just got stuck in some real bad traffic, it was an accident, maybe people died, I don't know! All I know is that I was stuck in traffic for about twenty minutes longer than need be. Jesus, where is that christ forsaken lawyer?” They could not speak, nor did they try to, he simply outdid them both. “Listen, I know what you're thinking, here's this crazy guy comes and sits down at my table and he's talking a whole lot, and I know you're thinking that's not a good sign, right?” Finally, a beat.
Harold tried to speak...
“So let's get down to business because I hate wasting time, and I want to actually eat my dinner and shoot the bull. I like to get to know my clients, you know, we'll have many more meetings like this, and I promise you, you won't be just hearing me talk. Today, is a little bit different, I've just got to break it down to you. I managed to find some properties in a high class area, real beauties. I'll take you out to them, just call me and arrange a day. Listen, two of them are pre foreclosure, one is already at action, and I got three of them where the banks are swearing up and down that they'll take a short sale. I just need the cash. I'm telling you, you pick up one of these properties, you got a real chance at developing a solid investment pool. Think of what that will mean! You could do anything with that!” Bernie ordered his wine and they sat there looking at eachother for a long time. Harold didn't know what to say.
“I know you're thinking, what do I say?”
“I have two questions, how much, and when?”
“Obviously as soon as possible, how much really depends on how much you can give. I'm offering you a piece of one, all, some, or most of these properties. It's your oyster. I'm telling you, we've been plotting this, you know I've been scouting buyers, they practically don't exist. All I'm asking is for you to put up the cash on one or some of these deals. I promise you you're looking at a return as soon as we get renters in. I'll show you the areas, we'll look at comps, I mean I'll lay all the research right out on the table for you. I want you to make an informed decision, this isn't me trying to swindle you bud!”
Jessica nudged Harold's leg accidentally, his brow furled and his eyes tightened as he studied the man across the table. Madoff had a smile plastered on his mug that was working over time with a fine sheen polish thrown in for shits and giggles. Harold hadn't matched wits with a man like this in quite some time. This breed seemed to circumvent counter points with even more smooth talking. The conversation continued and Madoff laid out the plan. He had located a small block of properties hit particularly hard in the housing boom. The good news? They were all in within a five mile radius of one another. A remarkable find, “Easy to maintain, close to home. Frankly, I couldn't have asked Santa Claus to deliver me a better deal. I want to jump on this, but in this market cash is king. See what you can do for me. You're lady friend here, my you are a lovely thing, she knows how to get a hold of me.”
Dinner came to the table, the waiter held warm plates with a towel in his palm. His greasy face bunched up as he smiled at the table. Madoff licked his lips, “Pasta, my absolute favorite. Say, how are the Laker's doing this year?”
“Shitty.” Jessica smiled at Madoff and prodded her food.
“Cute, and you follow sports.” Madoff managed to mutter through a full mouth of food. They all ate for a while. Madoff seemed full of himself, but shot glances to Jessica from time to time. She humored him, but Harold saw the disdain in her eyes. He made a mental note to ask her opinion of the man later.
“How is New York these days?” Jessica asked in her innocent conversational tone.
“Have you ever been? It's a marvelous city that will swallow you whole if you're not careful. These days, I stay at home. I don't often visit the city, I've got other matters to attend to. That's part of the reason I flew here to meet with you Mr. Crowley. Can't tell you how hard it is to find a reliable investor an property management.”
“You didn't say anything about property management.”
“I don't have to, the money I'm asking for covers it.” Madoff reached into a suitcase that Jessica noticed had been placed by his feet, “it's all outlined in my expense report. I've given comparable home values, damage estimates, what I think I can talk the bank into, the whole nine yards. I mean, I expect you to conduct your own form of due dilligence, don't take my word for it. Go ahead, I think you'll find the paper work is solid. I've got you and two others interested enough to buy me dinner, and I like to think of these meetings as good faith. I don't often waste my time.”
“I see. You understand this will take some time.”
“I would have it no other way. I cannot wait to hear from you Jessica, you may even have to send warning so I'm properly dressed for the occasion.”
“You flatter me Mr. Madoff.”
“I flatter all women, it helps my charisma. They say if you get the support of the women, the room quickly turns in your favor.”
“Who says that?” Harold chirped in with a tinge of bitterness.
“They do Mr. Crowley,” and Madoff swept his palm out into the air in a broad gesture, “those more progressive in thought than you or I. I'm sure your assistant is well acquainted with these fore runners of human ingenuity.”
Jessica could not resist a chuckle. The waiter slipped the bill unnoticed and collected the dishes. Harold studied the receipt and reluctantly removed a gold card. Madoff detected his apprehensiveness.
“Come now Harold. A simple two hundred dollars can't be causing you to shake like the San Andreas. Maybe I should have stuck to my guns and passed on you. My sources said you were good.”
“I am good. I just don't normally waste my money on expense reports and shoddy explanations topped off with air tight alibi's and challenges to find holes in an argument.” He set the bill on the table, “but you'll pardon my cynicism. I do believe we have work to do.”
Madoff collected his things and the trio shook hands.
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