song was perfect. “The Way You Look Tonight.” Victor’s hand reached out. “They’re playing our song.” Sandra smiled, took his hand. By song’s end, she was gently nestled on his shoulder, feeling safe, secure, and loved. Victor was done!
That evening, he bet his buddy Johnny five bucks that they would one day marry. They memorialized the bet on a scrap of paper that Johnny folded and placed in his wallet. Two years later, at the tender age of twenty-one, Victor and Sandra were married. Johnny was Victor’s best man. Lois was Sandra’s maid of honor. During the toast, Johnny explained the bet the two men had made. He took a small crumpled piece of paper out of his wallet and gave it Sandra, and he gave Victor the five dollars. There was not a dry eye in the room.
For the next seventeen years, their lives were filled with loving families, good friends, happy times, and two sons, Matt and Mark. Sandra still had that scrap of paper, and Victor still had Sandra, even though more than half of their married friends had split. Sandra’s twice-divorced sister-in-law, Christine, described the couple at their fifteenth-anniversary party as, “THE fairytale marriage that only happens in books and movies..”
~
It was son Matt’s sixteenth birthday. Sandra was tending to final details. The couple had been persuaded by the kids to open their 11,000-square-foot antique colonial listed in Connecticut’s historical register, to a “by invitation only” celebration. The kiddies had transformed the hard-top tennis court into a disco, replete with lights and strobes, and the rap sounds of Ice Cube, Tupac Shakur, and Easy E blasting over local disc jockey Mario Vitrella’s spanking new Yamaha Stagepas 500 portable PA system. Fortunately, the closest neighbor on this isolated country road was tens of acres away. Sandra thought the arrangements seemed a little lavish for 50 or 60 kids but elected to say nothing, particularly since neither she of Victor had not been asked to contribute a dime to the festivities.
~
“How was Prince Charming’s day?”
“Just your typical run-of-the-mill day. I convinced some guys from Harvard to spend an extra $25 million, and the chairman invited me to have coffee on Thursday in his office.”
Sandra smiled. “Is that all?”
“Actually, no. An old friend of mine, Johnny Katz, rang to tell me one of the kings of Wall Street wants to buy me breakfast Friday morning and tell me how he’s going to make us filthy rich.”
Sandra stopped in her tracks. “Katz! Didn’t you fire that guy?”
Victor began to put his spin on Johnny. “I did, but it didn’t have anything to do with his work ethic. It was a cultural fit issue. Johnny has always been creative, inventive, out-of-the-box.”
“Don’t you mean out-of-the-mainstream?”
Victor realized this was not the time or place to say anymore — seventeen years of marriage had taught him a few things. “To be fair, let’s discuss this tomorrow morning. Let’s chaperone tonight’s party with a good bottle of wine.”
~
Matt’s party was not exactly as billed. The invitation had been photocopied and “accidentally” passed around school. A long line of kids lined up at an entrance table; Victor grabbed Matt. “Young man, what the hell is going on? I thought this was a party for your close friends.”
Matt grinned. “Dad,” he said in his best Madison Avenue-speak, “I’m as surprised as you.”
Victor knew his son was blowing smoke. “Yeah, then who is that guy collecting money at the entrance table?”
“Dad,” smiled Matt, “You should be happy; I’m an evolving entrepreneur. Word got around that we were having a party with live music. I just decided to capitalize on the opportunity. My research suggested that kids would pay ten bucks a head. Look at it this way: I should make enough after expenses to pay for schoolbooks and gas when you lend me a car. How bad is that?”
Victor cracked up. “Just keep this damn thing under control. The last thing we need is a neighbor calling the cops, and your mother getting all over my case.”
“Dad, no sweat. Matt’s got your back.” Victor shook his head as he headed back to the main house. Matt waved to the black pick-up truck filled with beer kegs sitting in the darkness on the side of the house to head down the service road to the pool area.
~
Two policemen approached the patio, clubs in tow. “Who the hell is running this shindig?”
Victor, sensing he was in big doo-doo, responded sheepishly, “I am, Officer Mathias.”
“We were patrolling the area and noticed cars everywhere. Looks like 300 kids, maybe more.” The party had grown enormously since the father-son chat earlier. What could Victor say? More damaging than the sheer numbers was the presence of a generous number of beer kegs. Underage party drinking had become a real no-no. Victor was certain he was about to meet the citation pad, have the party shut down, and maybe worse.
“Sir, do you have any idea how many cars are on this block?”
“Not exactly, officer. I didn’t realize the party would be….”
“Sir,” said the officer. “My partner and I have called for help. We’re going to place roadblocks at both ends of the street so that no else enters unless they live on the street or are coming to the party. Our captain will give us hell if we don’t keep some order. This is supposed to be a pretty ritzy neighborhood.”
Chapter 5
Naye’s Decision
MADISON AVENUE, NYC.
Not just anybody gets a private audience with the reigning king of Madison Avenue.
“Victor,” said A&J Chairman Gordon Naye graciously, as they shared a cup of freshly brewed Kona coffee in Naye’s private library adjacent to his office. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“When the king summons, his loyal subject responds.”
Naye smiled playfully. “Victor, where do you get that stuff?” He didn’t realize Victor was damn serious. He adored Naye.
The silver-haired, nattily-attired Naye looked like something out of central casting: witty, articulate, slender, athletic, and in possession of a raspy voice that somehow was both authoritative and warmly engaging.
“By now, you must know how fond I am of you and your wonderful Sandra. Personally and professionally.” Naye leaned back in his flame-stitch wingback. “You’re a smart guy…I’m sure you realize I’m not planning to run this company forever. The clock waits for no man.”
Victor figured this was it. A little earlier than he expected, but what the hell, why not sooner than later? He could grow into the role. “But, Gordon, you’re still a young man,” said Victor, blowing a little extra smoke in Naye’s ear.
“Victor, it’s not up for discussion. I’ve decided to retire in three years at age sixty. Elizabeth (Naye’s wife of thirty years) and I have already begun making plans. But I want to lead us through this dreadful economy first. It doesn’t seem fair to leave the new team with a pile of dung.”
“Well,
