The Woman Who Stopped Traffic Read Online Free Page A

trying to do web one-dot-o deals with old media companies –”
    “Assuming there will still be any old media companies to do deals with. Who else?”
    “Nguyen seems solid. He spoke well today.”
    “Then work with him. Suggest they get a private security consultant on board to understand it better. Someone arms length and low key who could fly under the ‘Other Professional Service Fees’ note at the back of the S1. We could probably give them some recommendations.”
    “Sure. But what about –”
    “It’s good this happened here, where we have the home field advantage. Let me tell you something, Benjamin,” and Schweitz put the update pack down, picked up his baseball again and wandered off into some discourse about former Republican presidents. About how President Nixon “got a little over-competitive and was found with chicken-shit on him.” How Ronald Reagan “sold weapons to the Iranians, and used the proceeds to run interference throughout Central America… and that’s elephant shit, Benjamin. Yet we know which president had to go. So what does that little historical comparison tell us?”
    Perhaps that the man sat opposite him was finding increasingly inventive ways to avoid his gala-going wife on Friday nights, Ben surmised.
    “To never underestimate the power of being likeable, Benjamin. And people like Clamor. They like the story. They like the Kid. It’s – he’s – an emerging icon. ‘That’s my opinion, I welcome yours,’ as the Trumpington Bugle says.”
    “She was there today by the way, making snippy comments.”
    “What a surprise. Who else spoke out?
    “Hartman, over at American Milen.”
    “Fuck’n’ short sellers. I look forward to seeing them try to lean against this one.”
    Schweitzer sat up and rotated the baseball between his fingers, meditatively. “This is the big one, Ben. The Board meeting ran long today. Predators are circling Carmichael, with fat wallets. It’s especially helpful to land this deal now .”
    Ben reminded himself of the deal they’d co-negotiated: a 2% success fee calculated on the $2.5 billion of money raised, assuming they achieved a $15 billion total first day valuation. A $5 million guaranteed advisory fee, and a 0.8% commission for the equity sales guys placing the new stock. All told, $75 million in fees would flow Carmichael’s way if the IPO went well, and that left out the profit spread on the stock placed. The closing dinner would be epic. Perhaps the impossible-to-make-reservations-for Gary Danko’s, fully rented out, banishing all memories of Opti Shaft – the optical broadband misadventure for which Schweitz had once threatened a closing dinner at the local Jack In The Box.
    “… and if you can get this one between the uprights, we’ll be talking about a more central role for you, Benjamin.”
    Now Ben felt a pin pricking sensation travel up his shoulders and neck, for the code was unmistakable: ‘central role’ meant partnership, the glamorous wife, cars, weekend place in Tahoe. But even more than that, it meant that Jack and Gwendolyn Silverman, Ben’s parents, might finally find contentment in their son’s achievements. 
    “Who knows, you may even snag Francesca.”
    “I wonder,” said Ben, restoring his poker face.
    “I wonder if you wonder,” Schweitz said, dismissing him. But not before adding: “Stay close on this one Benjamin. We need this deal.”

CHAPTER 3
     
    Tom Nguyen saw Natalie the next day for Saturday lunch in the Marina district. They met on a corner of Union Street without a restaurant reservation, preferring to play it by ear. It was a perfect San Francisco day in the late spring: extra sunny with a sharp breeze. The city seemed blotchy white, the hard building outlines clumped around its many hills. Above, Natalie glimpsed a bright orange kite thrumming against a blue sky. The bay was all whitecaps and rippling sails like carnival streamers.
    Much as she adored Paris, and much as she loved