Ghosts of Manhattan: A Novel(44)

“Keep counting then. I’ll make sure they pay it. And feel free to estimate on the high side. If they don’t want to be fired, they’ll pay every penny and right away.”

I turn to the cop. “Officer, about criminal charges. If they’re arrested, I have to fire them. I’d rather bankrupt them with this bill, then put them through a living hell of my own.”

“Well, I’m still looking into exactly what happened here.”

“There were prostitutes in that room.” The manager points a finger to the door of the suite to remind us of where we’ve just been.

I’m still looking at the cop. “I was told they were strippers who joined the party after a shift at Scores.” This is true for at least some of the girls.

The cop is maintaining a calm tone, like a loving parent resolving a spat between children. “We sent a few girls home. I don’t know who they were but there aren’t any charges there. One more we couldn’t wake up, but she’s free to go when she does. I don’t think they were the ones causing the trouble.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure where this leaves the others. “What about the six in there now?”

He nods to the manager. “Let’s finish up the damages report and take it from there.”

“I’ll get back to work then.” The manager walks back into the room, leaving the cop and me in the hallway.

“So these kids work for you?”

“Some of them. Some are with another company that works with us.”

“Wall Street stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“I never understood all that. What do you guys do?”

I’m trying to decide between a thirty-second and thirty-minute version of this. I also recognize it will be to my benefit not to sound proud about what I do, which is convenient to my state of mind. “Think about it this way. There are people out there who run companies that create goods and services. This hotel, McDonald’s, Johnson and Johnson. They’re the primary force. They need a way to interact with financial markets, to buy and sell companies, to issue bonds, give or get loans. That’s what we help them do. We’re the secondary force. They build and we help move around some of the pieces and then we take a slice for our work.”

“Must be a big slice.”

“Yeah. Over time it can get smaller, but then we find a new way to cut a slice. Wall Street always finds a way.”

“You like what you do?”

My body language has been saying no. “No.” I confirm it and I know I sound genuine. “You like what you do?” I wonder how much patience he actually has for this conversation.

The cop looks at me and he speaks slowly and evenly as though reading the words from the inside of his skull. “In seventeen years on the force I’ve pulled my gun thirty-two times. I’ve had a gun pulled on me eleven times and I’ve been shot twice. I have a cracked vertebra from when I was jumped by two drug dealers, and I have one dead partner. No, I do not like what I do but I’ll keep doing it until I reach my full pension, and I don’t have much time for the kind of crap pulled by your little friends in there.”

The friendly rapport I had hoped we were building is up in smoke. The awkward moment is broken when the manager steps from the suite and I move to him like an expectant father to the OB emerging from the delivery room. “What have you got?”

“The total damages are one hundred seventy-four thousand, five hundred twenty-seven dollars.” The exactness of the number gives more credibility.

“Jesus.” The cop whistles.

“Okay.” I hang this out there like a question.

“If we receive prompt payment in full, I won’t press charges.”

I look over at the cop, who nods at the manager. “If he’s happy, I’m happy.”

“I’ll make sure they pay it. Do you mind if I go have a word with them?” These two know that people in finance make good money, but they don’t grasp the scale. They think these kids will be paying off debt for years. A young kid like Ron just pulled in a bonus of four hundred grand. He could pay this down himself.

“Be my guest.” The manager smiles, starting to feel more relaxed.

I want these six to feel relieved at the deal that has been struck. I walk back in the room and this time all eyes are on me, like kids hoping the teacher will announce recess.

“Jesus Christ, boys.” I find myself enjoying this more than I should. “That cop wants to lock you up. You have cocaine, hookers, and unbelievable destruction of property. If that happens, I doubt any of you hang on to your jobs.” I pause until every eye has dropped from mine to the floor. “I have good news and bad news.” Eyes are back on me. A ray of hope. “You may not be headed to jail. There may be no charges at all, but you have to pay for the damages, including lost revenue while they fix this mess. Every penny, and today.”

There are now some smirks and a few slide their hands back and forth on the top of their thighs as though ready to reach for their checkbooks now and get to work. “Sure, Nick,” says Ron. “How much?”

“One hundred seventy-five grand.”

“Ouch. I didn’t know we had that much fun.” Now that jail is off the table, one of the Chappy brokers is already feeling ready to dine out on this story.