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Authors: Louise Bagshawe
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dollars in net worth in almost record time. His pitch was tough to resist, too. There was streamlined distribution, with a new fleet and a hungry sales force, apparently the best in the business. Ernie told him about booksellers and the global reach and mission Of Blakely’s.
In summary, they were telling him he could be the next
55
Beatrix Potter. Amazing for children, and a multi million-dollar industry at the same time.
‘You have to go with us, Michael,’ Ernie Foxton said. His voice dripped sincerity. It was rough, and Michael recognised him as the limey equivalent of blue-collar made good. ‘It’ll be something new for New York. For America. Kids deserve this kind of book, and not just the lucky few who live round here. It’s time to go professional and stop fucking about. Don’t you think so? Excuse me, ladies.’
‘Yeah, I guess I do. I’m really flattered you show so
much interest in the company,’ Michael said, carefully. Ernie gave him a warm grin.
‘Not interest, mate, passion. Passion for books. Passion for quality.’
‘I need to think it over a little and discuss it with my advisers.’
Ernie fought back a snort of laughter. His advisers? Right, like this little prick had advisers. Instead, he tossed him an oily smile.
‘Don’t take too long, all right? We truly believe Green Eggs is the firm for us, but the chairman is keen to buy something - if it isn’t you it’ll be somebody else. I don’t have the leeway I would like.’
‘But the company?’ Cicero asked, bluntly. Ernie noted the square, stubborn set of the man’s jaw, and swallowed. The thickly muscled body made him nervous and ill at ease, and Michael was some schlep, some years younger than Ernie and over a million bucks poorer. He detested the way Cicero looked at him as though they were equals. Didn’t he know who Ernie Foxton was?
‘Not buy the company’ - that was a slip of the tongue, and Foxton chided himself- ‘buy ourselves a partnership. Think about this. All the other houses offered you a salary. We are offering you partnership, because we believe in you.’
56
Michael hesitated. He loved passion. The figures sounded good. Was it a smart move to turn down a winning lottery ticket? That’s what this sounded like.
Ernie shook his head. ‘No pressure right away. I’ll send ‘the suits back to the grind’ - he flashed his troops a
charming smile - ‘and you can come out with me and my wife. We’re a personal firm, here. Blakely’s cares who it deals with.’
‘Sounds good.’ Cicero extended a ridiculously firm handshake to Ernie.
‘Great. Great.’ Damn it, Ernie thought, I got him. And in about three months I’ll have the firm, too. Once this arrogant little bastard’s taught us all we need to know. ‘Diana’s actually got a table for me over at the Russian Tea Room. Come along and have a drink.’
‘Sounds very good.’ Michael relaxed.
The waiter deferentially ushered them to one of the choicest banquettes in the house, and Michael tried to ignore all the rubbernecking businessmen who were leaning out from their tables and staring at Ernie and himself. He understood that they were trying to figure out who he was.
You haven’t seen me before, he thought, thrilled, but soon each and every one of you will know who I am.
‘You can’t let business encroach on your pleasure time,’ Ernie said genially. Michael couldn’t have disagreed more, but kept silent. The guy was making a lot of
money. He must know what-he was doing.
‘There she is.’
Ernie waved at a female walking towards them. ‘My wife, Diana Foxton.’
‘Excuse me, darling, I was just freshening up,’ she said. She leaned forwards and kissed the air at the side of her husband’s cheeks. ‘And who’s this?’
‘Michael Cicero. A new business associate of ours. ‘At
57
least, I hope so,’ Ernie said. ‘You’ll thank me for introducing you, Diana, it’s somebody your own age to
In summary, they were telling him he could be the next
55
Beatrix Potter. Amazing for children, and a multi million-dollar industry at the same time.
‘You have to go with us, Michael,’ Ernie Foxton said. His voice dripped sincerity. It was rough, and Michael recognised him as the limey equivalent of blue-collar made good. ‘It’ll be something new for New York. For America. Kids deserve this kind of book, and not just the lucky few who live round here. It’s time to go professional and stop fucking about. Don’t you think so? Excuse me, ladies.’
‘Yeah, I guess I do. I’m really flattered you show so
much interest in the company,’ Michael said, carefully. Ernie gave him a warm grin.
‘Not interest, mate, passion. Passion for books. Passion for quality.’
‘I need to think it over a little and discuss it with my advisers.’
Ernie fought back a snort of laughter. His advisers? Right, like this little prick had advisers. Instead, he tossed him an oily smile.
‘Don’t take too long, all right? We truly believe Green Eggs is the firm for us, but the chairman is keen to buy something - if it isn’t you it’ll be somebody else. I don’t have the leeway I would like.’
‘But the company?’ Cicero asked, bluntly. Ernie noted the square, stubborn set of the man’s jaw, and swallowed. The thickly muscled body made him nervous and ill at ease, and Michael was some schlep, some years younger than Ernie and over a million bucks poorer. He detested the way Cicero looked at him as though they were equals. Didn’t he know who Ernie Foxton was?
‘Not buy the company’ - that was a slip of the tongue, and Foxton chided himself- ‘buy ourselves a partnership. Think about this. All the other houses offered you a salary. We are offering you partnership, because we believe in you.’
56
Michael hesitated. He loved passion. The figures sounded good. Was it a smart move to turn down a winning lottery ticket? That’s what this sounded like.
Ernie shook his head. ‘No pressure right away. I’ll send ‘the suits back to the grind’ - he flashed his troops a
charming smile - ‘and you can come out with me and my wife. We’re a personal firm, here. Blakely’s cares who it deals with.’
‘Sounds good.’ Cicero extended a ridiculously firm handshake to Ernie.
‘Great. Great.’ Damn it, Ernie thought, I got him. And in about three months I’ll have the firm, too. Once this arrogant little bastard’s taught us all we need to know. ‘Diana’s actually got a table for me over at the Russian Tea Room. Come along and have a drink.’
‘Sounds very good.’ Michael relaxed.
The waiter deferentially ushered them to one of the choicest banquettes in the house, and Michael tried to ignore all the rubbernecking businessmen who were leaning out from their tables and staring at Ernie and himself. He understood that they were trying to figure out who he was.
You haven’t seen me before, he thought, thrilled, but soon each and every one of you will know who I am.
‘You can’t let business encroach on your pleasure time,’ Ernie said genially. Michael couldn’t have disagreed more, but kept silent. The guy was making a lot of
money. He must know what-he was doing.
‘There she is.’
Ernie waved at a female walking towards them. ‘My wife, Diana Foxton.’
‘Excuse me, darling, I was just freshening up,’ she said. She leaned forwards and kissed the air at the side of her husband’s cheeks. ‘And who’s this?’
‘Michael Cicero. A new business associate of ours. ‘At
57
least, I hope so,’ Ernie said. ‘You’ll thank me for introducing you, Diana, it’s somebody your own age to
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