Ghosts of Manhattan: A Novel(46)

I can’t keep my eyes from the door, and I screw it all up when she walks in and I wave hello before she even sees me.

I’m astonished all over again at how beautiful she is. There’s nothing unusual in her face. There’s nothing distinct or remarkable other than it is classic, perfect beauty, almost devoid of character as though it doesn’t belong to her.

I marvel at her face as she walks toward me, smiling. The perfect angles, the perfect composition of her eyes, mouth, nose, and cheeks. I can’t keep myself from staring and I can’t imagine anyone has ever been able to. She must be used to people studying her. Her whole life, every guy turned on and intimidated. Every girl with a burst of negativity filled with resentment and competitiveness mixed with hopelessness.

Every relationship she’s entered into has begun through this portal of her beauty. I feel sad for a moment that she has been dominated by this. She has been subordinated to her beauty and everything else has to fight to get noticed, if it ever gets a chance at all. I think better to be good-looking than great-looking.

“What’s the emergency? You want to see me right away?” She bangs into conversation with poise and no fear.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“You’re lucky I’m self-confident, otherwise I’d have made you wait and ask me to dinner on a Saturday night.”

“Sorry. There’s something I want to talk to you about and it just seemed like the sooner the better.” I’m starting to wonder if I’m better in person after all. Maybe forcing this is a mistake.

The waitress stops by and Rebecca orders a pinot grigio.

“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s wait for the drinks first.”

We sit back in the chairs again staring at each other, and I can almost see the shift of gears in her head. “And since I’ve come all the way here, let me ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“In a few months they’re going to fine Freddie Mac for illegal campaign contributions. They’re also going to wrap up a two-year investigation as to whether Freddie Mac has been misstating earnings.”

“Your question?”

Her voice takes on a tone of duty. “Since this is basically what you trade every day, maybe it’s bundled into something or it’s some related insurance product, but these home loans are the actual instrument underlying your trades of asset-backed securities. I’m wondering if you have any thoughts on the matter.”

“Here’s something you can put on the record. If you compensate a person based on volume, he’s going to give you volume.”

“Volume. You’ll just trade volume, you don’t care if it’s toxic and dangerous.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m saying I’m not paid to care, I’m paid to deliver volume. If you want to fix the problem, you need to fix more than bad loans.”

“I need to fix your motivation.”

“Mine and everyone else’s.” This verbal volleying is not the flirtation I was aiming for.

“It doesn’t motivate you that this can ruin the financial system? Globally?”

“It will change things a little, not ruin them. It’s another cycle. In the nineties it was Long-Term Capital, and there were plenty of things in the decades before that. This might be worse. It might not be.”

“So no laws broken, just a cycle.” She can’t hide her indignation or doesn’t want to.

The waitress brings our drinks.

“I didn’t say that either. I’m sure laws are being broken the same as they always are. Imagine the financial system is a heart, pumping liquidity all around. It’s not a hundred percent efficient. Brokers and traders take a big percentage away from everything that moves. People move stuff that is unhealthy. Maybe they don’t know it’s unhealthy; maybe they do know and deceive. Whether it’s deception or systemic inefficiency, let’s call it corruption to be simple. Corruption is cholesterol in the heart. This is a high-cholesterol town. It’s always building up and once in a while the heart needs surgery. Someone, maybe the attorney general or Congress, goes in and cleans out the cholesterol and plaque. As soon as surgery is over, the cholesterol starts flowing and accumulates in new places. The cycle starts again. We’ll need another surgery again later. The thing is, this heart never stops beating.”

She leans back with her wine and I’m trying to read if it’s a smirk or a smile. “That’s an awfully convenient point of view. What’s your bonus this year?”

“No comment.”

“Of course not. I can safely assume it’s some number of millions.”

“Are you still trying to work over Freddie Cook?”

“I was never trying to work over Freddie. He called me.”

“Please don’t push him. He’s already got problems.”

“You all do.”

“That’s true. Some of us more than others.”

She sips her drink but keeps eye contact. “So, you wanted to talk about something?”

“I saw you do a reporter hit from the exchange floor the other day. You looked great.”

“Thanks.”

“There’s something different about you. Some of the women come across flat on TV. With you there’s something magnetic and exciting and it’s not just looks.”