48. Card Tables

Kent was subdued that afternoon when he picked Jamie up at the airport, and he could tell his boyfriend was tired. But Jamie was back, they kissed there on the concourse and no one said anything. "Let me get you home, babe, you can take a nap."

"That might be good."

"It's chilly outside, mid-40s, so I'll get the car while you get your bag."

"You don't have to do that, Kent."

"The fuck I don't, boy. My job's to keep you safe and warm."

***

Jamie slept, spoke to Mrs. Shuey before she left, then thought about dinner. He could tell by looking in the refrigerator that Kent hadn't done any cooking; no leftovers, everything was still frozen. He started some celery soup and found makings for a salad, but then what? He decided on a potato frittata. When in doubt, feed him bacon and eggs.

It turned out fine. They ate quietly, pleasantly, catching each other up on what they'd missed in the past week, including what Calvin's new boyfriend was like ("Cute, very charming, even spontaneous in a controlled way. He's a poser, and quite good at it. He always hits his mark and knows which eyes are on him. I'm sure he makes Calvin feel young, although there's also something creepy about seeing grandpa and his boytoy in coordinated outfits. But what the kid's actually like, I'll never know.")

Then Kent's curiosity got the best of him. "How did you pull this thing off, man? I mean, selling your company to Warren Buffett."

"I tried, but he didn't buy it. I offered it to him and he was very helpful, with a wonderful evaluation I was thrilled to get, it says such good things about the company. But it didn't meet all his criteria, so all he provided was financing. Louis Vuitton bought it along with the others you read about. It's kind of my last laugh at The New York Times since they wouldn't hire me to write for them. They didn't like my showbiz background, no matter how well educated I am. So let them go into debt to buy me out. Mr. Buffett will end up with their shares for free if they default. And considering the state of the newspaper business, they just might."

"I didn't know you even knew the man."

"I didn't; we've talked on the phone now a time or two. I wrote him a letter, introduced myself. He was very kind, as well as incredibly smart. I'll show you the letters, they're in my computer."

"You pulled off a $3 billion deal by writing Warren Buffett a 40-cent letter?"

"He's someone you can do that with; a letter was the most efficient way to communicate. It doesn't waste his time, it's all right there, he can reread it if he feels like it. He often says he makes most of his acquisitions just by answering the phone; sellers approach him. But I didn't feel I should call him, he wouldn't know who I am. I thought I should take a humbler approach than a phone call; I'm 26 years old and he's Warren Buffett. So I wrote him instead. I figured a man who answers his own phone probably reads his own mail, and it worked. He loves our company. He was glad to get the chance to help with it."

"Why didn't he just buy it himself, then?"

"I was only offering a third of it, and he likes to buy the whole company. When he looked at our financials, he was afraid he'd get into a bidding war for the other two-thirds, and that's not how he does things. Ordinarily he solves that problem by paying a premium so his offer's attractive, but this was an industry he didn't know.

"It's a young company, and he likes old ones, market leaders, where the current CEO started out in the mail room and worked his way up. He likes industrial companies and consumer goods, things like railroads and Frey boots; he owns the leading brickmaker in the United States. He owns Dairy Queen; I guess he likes their sundaes. And insurance companies, those are his favorites, because he knows how to profit from the float. You buy your insurance first, pay the premium, then if you have a claim they pay you later; in the meantime he's investing the money you gave him. Berkshire Hathaway's like a giant bank, Kent; you deposit $25 in your passbook savings, he pays you 1% interest so you're making out, and meanwhile he's getting 20% on all those accumulated passbooks people give him.

"But he thinks techs are different; I'm not sure he really understands tech companies. He said to me, 'I don't know whether I'm buying Google on the way up or AOL on the way down.' So right then and there I knew he wouldn't buy. He's not anti-technology, far from it, but it seems volatile to him and therefore risky. A pair of boots, he can try them on. An ice cream cake, he can eat the merchandise. He can feel the bricks, and he's got a railroad to haul them around on. But e-commerce technology isn't something he can pack in a suitcase and show people. What if a competitor comes up with a better version of it, or the Twitter crowd all runs somewhere else next week?

"So he didn't buy; I can't say I'm surprised but it would have been great. I always knew approaching him was a long shot. But he's who I wanted; he's honest, I trust him and he never interferes with the management. That's the crucial piece; yes, I wanted out, but only if I could protect our top personnel. They're the ones who make the money, who understand the business and employ all those creative folks we've got. Phillip Chang, our Chief Tech Officer, is the most important person at InFashion. He's made me rich, and I've made him rich too. If it came down to Phillip or an outside buyer, I'd stick with Phillip."

Jamie smiled. "And fortunately I know something about him that outsiders don't; he loves the fashion business. His dream job is hanging out with models all day. He'll never leave as long as we let him do his thing. He doesn't need to go off and join some startup; he's already rolling in dough. What he needs is an outlet for his wizardry while he's surrounded by beautiful flesh."

"Guys or girls?"

"Both. He's a true Bisexual as well as a genius. That's how I hired him away from Silicon Valley in the first place. Why hang out with the nerds all day when he could be with the pretty people?

"So once I knew Phillip was taken care of, we finally got a deal made with Louis Vuitton's syndicate. I could go to our top people and say this isn't going to change a thing, I still have controlling interest in the Class B shares, and that's where the power lies. LVMH doesn't get any board members out of the deal, they just get to bet on the stock price—which they know is going up. They don't care about those Class B shares, but I do, Mr. Buffett does—and our employees do.

"So it should be a win-win, even though it's not the arrangement I most wanted. It gets me out of Wall Street in one clean break so I can come home and be with you. Plus now I have a new friend, an honest man who's the best investor in the history of the world. He didn't invest in me, but that's okay."

"I just admire you for bein' in the same league, baby. Steppin' up to the plate, takin' some swings. Gee whiz, my hubby's playin' ball with Warren Buffett."

"He's a Midwesterner, Kent. We understood each other. I told him exactly why I wanted out, a new husband and all, a new life, and what I would and would not put up with to get out. I offered him the Class B shares, and he almost took them; they're more valuable than the Class A's. But when he didn't, he helped me find a way to get what I wanted so I could come back here and stop worrying about the madness on Wall Street. It was both a business deal and an incredible personal favor, and afterwards he thanked me."

"I think I understand this, but now that it's over with, why couldn't you tell me this the first time?"

"To protect you from any suspicion of breaking insider trading laws, the same thing that landed Martha Stewart in jail."

"Oh. Well, good, I wouldn't look that great in a jailhouse uni."

Jamie laughed. "After all, I went to New York to sell the company. Once it was sold, the shares opened $8 higher. An unscrupulous spouse, knowing what might happen, could have taken, say, $100 million from the Josiah Trust and bought InFashion at $60 a pop, then sold it a week later at $68. So the less you knew the better, even if it did cost us an argument."

"It wasn't really an argument, do you think?"

"No. We seem not to argue, and I love that in you. We just have spirited discussions."

"E-pis-co-pa-lian," Kent recited.

"And don't you forget it."

***

Later after dinner, Kent looked bewildered again. "Why didn't you tell me you had all this money?"

Jamie hesitated, unsure what to say, till finally he stood up and began to pace. "I'm not entirely sure. It just seems like everything's happened so fast around here. I gain my weight back, I sell my mother's house, I'm returning to Ohio for my job, then we get married instead and we're home for a week, then it's off to Gary, then dodging falling trees through an ice storm on Christmas Eve, and the next day I get handed this brochure about the Kessler Trust; hundreds of millions of dollars and it even includes an entail from George the Fucking Third.

"Then it's New Year's, a big party, and Miriam's leaving town so Ma's moving to Crawfordsville, leaving us with this gigantic brick cavern; I just got caught up somehow in this Kessler Mania you all have going. When was I supposed to tell you? When was the right time? If I'd told you at once it might have seemed to diminish everything your family has achieved in this place. 'Oh, $400 million, I've got you all beat.' What sort of snot-nosed brat would say such a thing?

"There's so much I have to learn here. I want to be part of your family, Kent, these people who are so important to you. They've welcomed me and I'm honored by that. I need to be integrated into this huge family of yours; the time's never come to take you into my tiny world.

"When my mother died I didn't have a need to hang onto her house, like you need to hang onto this one. No one ever named a township after my grandfather; his home wasn't a stop on the Underground Railroad. We don't have any old family secrets, no forbidden loves or hidden passageways, or much history at all. Two of my ancestors fought in the Civil War, okay? The World Wars, Vietnam, that's it, end of glory. We didn't sell hams in New Orleans or own department stores in Philadelphia, or play Major League Baseball or do anything outstanding; we're just ordinary people. I have two brothers and no cousins; there's nothing for you to learn about my family. But I have everything to learn about yours.

"Besides, you knew I had money; I bought you a Honda Gold Wing for Christmas. Those things cost ten grand to start, and more for the options. You knew I had the company; you've never asked about it, and up to now I guess you've never realized what it's worth. My money wasn't important to you; your money's what's important to you—and I don't blame you a bit, that's how it should be. That trust and this house are how you know what your ancestors did, and how you know who you are.

"What's my family ever done? Danny's the best sportswriter in Denver, but if it weren't for ESPN no one would have ever heard of him outside Colorado. You've met Stone, general manager of a little electric co-op in southern Indiana; when he gets his name in the paper it's the North Vernon Telegraph, right next to the school lunches for next week. They're having Tuna Surprise again next Friday.

"I have no one else to introduce you to. You met my mother on her deathbed; I wish we'd had more time with her, because she and I are two sides of the same coin—and there's a lot to be said about that; but she's gone now, my grandmothers are gone, everyone's gone." Jamie slowed down for a second, missing his grandmas. "You've met Unca Deed; who else is there?

"Meanwhile here's this big old house. It's been running on auto-pilot and your Mom couldn't wait to get out of it. You have a full-time job and I sit around playing solitaire. What ought I to be doing, but helping you to bring Old Josiah into the 21st century?

"I didn't want to keep the money from you, Kent; I'm sorry, but until I sold the stock it was only on paper anyway, and there was never any reason to discuss it. I've got all the money I'll ever want now; so do you. Should we sit around plotting how to get more? I don't want more! I don't want what I have, it's going to be an incredible burden.

"But I do want this house preserved and updated so we can live here; so we can honor those noble ancestors, so we can learn to live our lives in a way that's halfway responsible. We have to follow in their footsteps but we also have to make our own—and I'm only beginning to learn how to walk the Kessler way. Should I be obsessing about Wall Street or remodeling the damn kitchen?

"Meanwhile you have your work; saving lives, bringing peace, catching criminals. Here is a worthy successor to Josiah. What ought to be my job, Kent, since I don't have one anymore, but to help you with yours?

"So that's what I'm trying to do. I don't claim I'm right but it just seems the obvious place to begin; redo the kitchen, get those heating bills down. I'm not useful to much of anyone right now, so I try to be useful to you."

Kent reached for him. "You've done great work on your job, Jamie. Davey and all."

"But I don't have that job anymore. All of my circumstances have changed. I'm married now to a wonderful man; I live here, not Ohio, not New York. It's time to reevaluate all the things I've done—including my money. I was sitting on a huge pile of cash from the fashion business. I've never liked fashion that much, I never will, so why am I still involved with it? All of that money comes from people bidding up the price on Wall Street—and I can't stand Wall Street, they're all a bunch of crooks. Why am I involved with Wall Street? I don't want those people in my house!

"And while I have no doubt that InFashion will continue to grow and produce more profits, I don't want more profits. I can't deal with the profits I have, so don't give me more of them. By talking Mr. Buffett into helping me get the company off my hands I did us both a favor. He can't get off the merry-go-round, but by God I can. He's responsible to shareholders, and those people matter; my only responsibility to shareholders is to get out of the way so they can all live happily ever after.

"I'm recovering from a coma but InFashion didn't miss me for a second. I need to put my energy into something else now. And oh by the way, with the stash the buyers paid me, profits will keep coming no matter what I do. It's almost frightening. And it's immoral to sit on a hoard like that when there's work to be done; people to feed, history to tell, a crimefighter to honor and obey."

Kent was quiet, absorbing it all; another Jamie onslaught, better than "Designing Women."

"Three billion dollars," he shrugged. "Nice chunka change."

"Even cashing out Mom's estate, a pittance by comparison, every time I turned around another dump truck just arrived with a load of cash, sitting in my front yard, waiting for me to do something about it. Now with this…" Jamie waved his hand vaguely in the air, "it's either start giving it away or build a countinghouse like Scrooge McDuck.

"I don't want a countinghouse, Kent; I am not Scrooge McDuck. I grew up in a two-room garage in Crestline, Ohio, a few miles east of downtown Bucyrus."

They laughed, and Kent rubbed Jamie's shoulder. "Poor little rich boy."

"I couldn't help it," Jamie wailed. "Sure, I wanted a little bit of money, enough to live a halfway gracious life. But I had no idea when I started InFashion it would grow to all this. It's Phillip's doing, Kent, and Larry and Laura's; all I did was hire those people, but look at what they've done. They're the biz-whizzes, not me. At the most I helped to set a tone; the original settlement from the suit I filed helped establish who we are and what we do. We're young and smart and anti-bureaucratic. We don't have such a thing as middle management. There aren't any barriers when someone has an idea. And man, do they all have ideas.

"So we gained the support of the industry for the radical notion of treating the talent like human beings with something to offer, and now we're the toast of the town. I'm glad; the talent deserves it and we've laid down a collaborative model which has worked really well. The corporate types are the losers in all this, and believe me they deserve it; they're the ones who exploited the talent in the first place. So now they've had to accommodate us, and find where they can profit from the new paradigm. They can, we've made it possible—but we've also caused some shakeups that are good for the industry. And the end users, the consumers, couldn't be happier with us. We've given their obsession respectability. I mean, the world does not turn on whether hemlines are up or down this season, whether next season's color is lime or chartreuse; we've abolished the old dictatorship and given people a chance to support the art and the craft of fashion—Seventh Avenue, not just Madison Avenue. The factories, not just the marketers."

Jamie breathed deeply. "So now I'm rich, and my lover's pissed off about it. Why didn't I tell you? Because it doesn't fit anything you're doing, that's why. It's New York and London and Milan and Paris, not Crawfordsville or that Mud place up north. I'm having to learn how to live in the country again, without a car, without a job, just married to a big hunk of a man in uniform. He rides horses, he goes hunting, he catches bad guys and drinks iced tea. His idea of fun is hanging out at the Boys' and Girls' Club—and I have to adjust to all this. I'm glad to, Kent, I'm happy here, but it does remind me that when I'm in the Midwest too long I can't wait to get back to New York; and when I'm in New York too long I can't wait to get back to the Midwest.

"I'm a hybrid, okay? Ever since I was 14 I've lived in two worlds. Now I'm here in this one and I'm staying. Now I've made a choice about it—this is home. Your place is home, my place is with you. So I've given up the other place, made a clean break and settled down. It's not my fault if you don't like my baggage; if you want me you get my baggage too. I didn't force you to marry me, you wanted to."

"I still do." Kent came, went down on one knee, picked up Jamie's hand. "Will you marry me, and be my darling? In a nice E-pis-co-pal church somewhere on the East Coast?"

Slowly Jamie smiled. "Can we have a string quartet?"

"And organ music, baby. And priests runnin' around 'n' everything."

Jamie smiled, then got solemn. "I will. I do, I have, I will."

Thus ended the crisis; between them they had three and a half billion dollars and somehow, some way, they'd just have to try to cope.

Meanwhile New Century Financial, Alan Greenspan (of Friedman & Greed), Goldman Sachs, AIG, Countrywide, Lehman Brothers and all the vultures on Wall Street were about to wipe out 45% of the world economy. What would happen to Cher's beauty shop or Aunt Nora's bannister?

Jamie visualized people having to live in tents in the woods, with everyone carrying a shotgun to protect themselves from scavengers.

So he called John Wesley to ask about his vegetable farm, how the turkeys were getting along; J.W. said the first lettuces would be ready next week, so they'd have food anyway.

It was the only business Jamie could think of with a definite future. If the CSA shares didn't sell, they could always set up card tables in the parlor and give the produce away.++


© 2011 Josh Thomas, All Rights Reserved.