The Deal Read Online Free Page A

get a drink. Andreu was waving to me. He was sitting on the first stool in what seemed to be the exact farthest point away from me in the entire restaurant.
    The space was colorful. Shades of orange and red were the cornerstone of the décor, a dance of Far Eastern and South American culture. Waiters floated around with ice blue, pink, and crystal clear drinks on trays, which became tiny prisms as the room’s light energetically raced through them. Wooden planks with colorful pieces of fresh fish were scattered throughout. A wide, thin chandelier of smoked glass bubbles covered the ceiling.
    I carved a path through the crowd. When I almost reached the bar, Andreu stood up. Someone unaware of my approach stood in my way.
    “Please, excuse my friend here—Excuse him, please.”
    Andreu immediately began shooing the guy aside.
    “Please, don’t you know who this is?” he said.
    All of a sudden, all eyes were on me.
    “You’ll have to excuse my friend,” I said jokingly to the small crowd. “He’s from out of town.”
    “I may be from out of town,” he continued in his Russian accent, “but you must not be as famous as I’ve been told. It doesn’t seem like anyone recognizes you.”
    “Then they must not read the business section very often.”
    We laughed. Then, we hugged.
    “You look great,” Andreu said. “What are you drinking?”
    We had the bartender’s attention, so I ordered straight away.
    “Sapphire and tonic. Three olives.”
    “Still with the gin, I see.”
    “How about you, little girl? What are you going with, Kir Royale? Like some little topless model running around St. Tropez?”
    Andreu looked good. He was, as always, clad in European fashion. He wore a navy Versace suit with a lime green ETRO shirt, no tie. His skin was tanned. His brown hair was getting long, yet he wore it sort of messy a la Hugh Grant.
    “Fuck you, my friend. Bourbon tonight, a man’s drink.”
    Andreu took a long swallow of the rust-colored liquid that filled his glass.
    “Really, though, it’s good to see you,” he continued.
    “It’s nice to see you too. You seem...content.”
    “I am content, Jonah. Things have been great.”
    “I imagine they have. From the looks of you, all day is spent lying in the sun.”
    “I was just in Antalya.”
    Antalya is a Turkish ocean-side resort town.
    “I’m allowed holiday, aren’t I?” Andreu asked innocently.
    The bartender placed my cocktail in front of me. I picked it up and we clinked glasses.
    “Anyway, sounds like you’re working hard enough for both of us. You’ve become a superstar.”
    “You get fired by your board of directors or something? You looking to land a job as my publicist?”
    “You’ve always known what you want, Jonah. I have always admired that.”
    “Seriously, do you owe me money or something? Or did you really just come all this way to kiss my ass?”
    He started laughing.
    “I remember you saying it to me, man.”
    My expression became serious. This comment confused me.
    “You remember me saying what?”
    “It was the summer between your two years of business school when you and your father met us in Antibes. It was a few years before my father died. We were sitting by the pool at the Hotel Du Cap, overlooking the Mediterranean. You had just been talking to some gorgeous blond girl in a white bikini. When she excused herself you took a sip of your Domaines Ott and closed your eyes, putting your face right in the sun’s rays.”
    “The detail here is a bit eerie, my friend,” I said jokingly. “Have you been noticing me from afar or some shit like that?”
    “Shut up, won’t you? Anyway, that was when you said to me the strangest thing. You go, eyes still closed as you faced the sky, ‘I need to get back to school!’ ”
    “I said that?”
    “You said that. And I remember thinking to myself, ‘How the fuck can this guy be thinking about school at a time like this?’ So, I asked you. I said, ‘Why the fuck would you