Wild Card

43

Ari Kramer and Annie Lee sat on a bench in their Cambridge apartment, both naked, and watched Joe Box deliver a rousing speech to an audience of three thousand in Manchester, New Hampshire.

“You outdid yourself on this one,” Annie said, stroking the inside of his thigh.

“I did, didn’t I?” Ari replied, with his characteristic bluntness. “I believe the expression is, I knocked it out of the ball.”

“That’s ballpark,” she corrected.

“You’re becoming a pedant,” Ari said.

“I am not. I’m just correcting a small error in your parlance that would damage your credibility if anyone but me heard it.”

“I suppose I should be grateful,” he said.

“I don’t think you feel gratitude, Ari — not in the usual meaning of the word.”

“I’d be grateful if you’d shut up about how I speak.”

“No, you’d just get even angrier when I correct you.”

“Why are you the arbiter of the quality of my speech?” he demanded.

“Because I’m all you’ve got,” she said, moving her hand up farther.

Ari gave a little twitch as she neared home plate. “I’m grateful for what you just did,” he said.

“That I can believe,” Annie replied, continuing her exploration. They dived into the bed.

The Thomases and Damien sat in Henry’s office and watched the Box speech on a large computer screen.

“I’m having trouble believing this,” Henry said. “I’ve known the son of a bitch for a decade, and he’s hardly ever missed an opportunity to say something awkward and turn people off. I was stunned when he was reelected.”

“He’s now got a nine-point lead over the incumbent in the Republican primary,” Damien said.

“Yeah,” Hank chimed in, “but that will disappear in the general election. Independents and young people are going to be harder to attract than your standard Republican voters.”

“A good point,” Damien said. “I’ll see what I can do about it.”

The couple had just come simultaneously for the first time, and they lay in each other’s arms, panting.

“Oh my God,” Annie said.

“If you’re speaking to him, tell him I concur,” Ari said.

His Skype ring nearly blasted them out of bed. Annie clutched a sheet over her breasts. “Can he see me?”

“He’ll be able to, unless you get out of the bed,” Ari said, “as soon as I answer.”

She ran for the bathroom while Ari got into khakis and a polo shirt. “Yes, William?” he said, pressing a button.

“Good afternoon, Ari,” the man said. The bandages that had been concealing his face were down to just one over his chin. Above that, his face was looking more normal.

“I hope you’re well,” Ari said, struggling to find a little sincerity.

“I’m very well, and so is Senator Box, if the speech I just watched is any measure.”

“He’s coming along very nicely,” Ari said.

“I think we need to shift gears,” Smith said.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“It means we should take Senator Box to a higher level.”

“What level do you mean? We have to get him nominated first.”

“What I mean is: We’ve been appealing mostly to a Republican audience during the primary. Normally, we’d wait until after the primary, then begin appealing to independents, young people, and more conservative Democrats.”

“I understand.”

“But I don’t think we should wait until after the primary, I think we should start now.”

“I think that’s a very good idea,” Ari said.

“Perhaps he could say a kind word about Medicare,” Smith said. “Perhaps even Obamacare.”

“Health care is certainly going to be an important talking point in the general election,” Ari agreed.

“He’s speaking in Burlington tomorrow. That would be a good place to swing him more to the political center.”

“I believe you’re right,” Ari replied. “I’ll write him something tonight, and he can memorize it with his breakfast.”

“Good, get right on it,” Smith said. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

Ari signed off. He had already drafted a half dozen speeches of the kind Smith was asking for. He had only to touch up one for a Burlington audience.

Henry Thomas hung up the phone and grinned at his two companions. “They’ve made us a very good offer,” he said. “I’ll call them back in a few minutes and edge them up a little — less than they’re expecting — and we’ll be done.”

“When do they want to close?”

“I haven’t suggested a date; I don’t want to sound anxious. I think they’ll want to move quickly, though. We’re at forty-two dollars a share. They think I’ll come back with forty-eight, but I’ll make it forty-six. I know we’d all like to have the extra two dollars, but if we get greedy we might delay or even blow the acquisition. After all, it’s a cash offer. They’ve brought in a huge pile of overseas earnings, and they’re itching to spend some of it.”

“What are our personal obligations as managers of the company?” Hank asked. “How long do we have to stay? A year?”

“My guess is their final offer will come with a condition of our immediate departure.”

“God, I’d love to be out from under,” Hank said.

Henry’s phone rang. “Yes? Hello, Harman. I’m listening.” He listened, then said, “Hold the phone a minute, will you?” Henry covered the receiver. “The offer is $46.50 a share, closing within a week. He says they’ve already done their due diligence. And our duties end at closing.”

Hank and Damien nodded.

“All right, Harman,” Henry said. “Congratulations! You’ve got yourself the finest investment bank in the country. Just e-mail me a signed offer, I’ll e-mail you back my signature, and we’re done until closing.” He said goodbye and hung up.

“Thanks for the extra fifty cents, Poppa,” Hank said.

“Yes, sir,” Damien echoed.

“So,” Henry said, “what are you boys going to do?”

“I’m thinking Switzerland for a while,” Hank said.

“It’s someplace with no extradition treaty for me,” Damien said. “I may hang around until the election.”

“I’m staying right here,” Henry said. “The house in the Hamptons in the summer, Aspen in the winter. I’ve got another season or two of skiing left in me.”