of her parents.
Jack looked around. Every person in this room was a millionaire. He was
easily the poorest of them all, but his prospects probably surpassed all
of theirs. His base income had just quadrupled. His profit sharing for
the year would easily be double that. It occurred to him that he too was
now, technically, a millionaire. Who would’ve thought it, when four
years ago a million dollars seemed to be more money than existed on the
planet?
He had not entered law to become rich. He had spent years working as
hard as he ever had for what amounted to pennies. But he was entitled
now, wasn’t he? This was the typical American Dream, wasn’t it? But
what was it about that dream that made you feel guilty when you finally
attained it?
He felt a big arm around his shoulder. He turned to look at Sandy Lord,
red eyes and all staring at him.
“Surprised the hell out of you, didn’t we?”
Jack had to agree with that. Sandy’s breath was a mixture of hard liquor
and roast beef. It reminded Jack of their very flat encounter at
Fillmore’s, not a pleasant memory. He subdely distanced himself from his
intoxicated partner.
“Look around this room, Jack. There’s not a person here, with the
possible exception of yours truly, who wouldn’t love to be in your
shoes.”
“It seems a little overwhelming. It happened so fast.” Jack was more
talking to himself than to Lord.
“Hell, these things always do. For the fortunate few, wham, zero to the
top in seconds. Improbable success is just that: improbable. But that’s
what makes it so damn satisfying. By the way, let me shake your hand for
taking such good care of Walter.”
“Pleasure, Sandy. I like the man.”
“By the way, I’m having a little get-together at my place on Saturday.
Some people are going to be there you should meet. See if you can
persuade your extremely attractive Significant Other to attend. She
might find some marketing opportunities. Girl’s a natural hustler just,
like her daddy.”
JACK SHOOK THE HAND OF EVERY PARTNER IN THE PLACE, SOME more than once.
By’nine o’clock he and Jennifer were headed home in her company limo. By
one o’clock they had already made love twice. By one-thirty Jennifer was
sound asleep.
Jack wasn’t.
He stood by the window looking out at the few stray snowflakes that had
started to fall. An early winter storm system had settled in over the
area although accumulations were not supposed to be significant. Jack’s
thoughts were not on the weather, however. He looked over at Jennifer.
She was dressed in a silk nightgown, nestled between satin sheets, in a
bed the size of his apartment’s bedroom. He looked up at his old friends
the murals. Their new place was supposed to be ready by Christmas,
although the very proper Baldwin family would never allow patent
cohabitation until the vows were exchanged. The interiors were being
redone under the sharp eye of his fiance to suit their individual
tastes and to boldly cast their own personal – statementwhatever the
hell that meant. As he studied the medieval faces on the ceiling it
occurred to Jack that they were probably laughing at him.
He had just made partner in the most prestigious firm in town, was the
toast of some of the most influential people you could imagine, every
one of them eager to advance his already meteoric career even further.
He had it all. From the beautiful princess, to the rich, old
father-in-law, to the hallowed if utterly ruthless mentor, to serious
bucks in the bank.
With an army of the powerful right behind him and a truly limitless
future, Jack never felt more alone than he did that night. And despite
all his willpower, his thoughts continually turned to an old, frightened
and angry man, and his emotionally spent daughter. With those twin
beauties swirling in his head he silently watched the gentle fall of
snowflakes until the softened edges of daybreak greeted him.
THE OLD WOMAN WATCHED THROUGH THE DUSTY VENETIAN blinds that covered the
living room window as the dark sedan pulled into her driveway. The