long, Jonny,” I said.
“Oh! Yeah. So long.”
“C’mon, I’ll walk you to the door,” Dann said.
Out of the boy’s earshot, he said, “Jonny doesn’t need a whole lot of supervision. Since my sister passed away, about five years ago, he usually spends time at home with the help or at his dad’s office, where he watches TV and his brother Dickie looks in on him from time to time. Today, something came up and Dickie wasn’t available.”
“What about Jonny’s dad?”
“Big Jon? The tycoon?” He grinned as if that was a joke. “He’s a little busy to be taking care of the kid. He’s in construction and real estate. Maybe you’ve seen the BDI sign on the building they’re putting up across the street. BDI is Baker’s Dozen Industries. Jon’s doing a lot more hustling these tight money days. But he finds the time for Jonny. He should be here any minute to pick him up.”
“Jonny seems to like it here,” I said.
“And I like having him around. He’s a good kid. Only … he’s not a kid. He’s twenty-six.”
“Seems pretty good-natured,” I said.
“Yeah. Dickie could use some of that.” He frowned. “Sorry. Dickie’s just a little too … intense. But Jonny, he likes people.”
“Except for Madeleine. Whoever she is.”
“Madeleine Parnelle. Her husband writes the
Thief Who
books. What I’ve seen of her, I can’t fault Jonny on that one. Mother Teresa woulda been hard-pressed.”
We were at the door. A few happy-hour customers were stragglingin. They were all in their twenties. They seemed to know Dann, who gave them a wink or a pat on the back.
“The Parnelles eat here often?” I asked.
“Never been in, thank God. Oh, the husband seems okay, if a little distracted, you know what I mean. Like he’s got his mind on some other game. The wife makes up for it. She’s a real presence. A capital B-I-T-C-H. Treats him like shit, and just about everybody else worse than that. I’d as soon my staff not have to take her kind of crap. Work is hard enough.”
“You know the Parnelles from …?”
“I first caught their act at a party at Derek Webber’s. You know, the Instapicks guy.”
I did know. Webber was one of the current Internet gazillionaires. He chaired an assortment of multinational electronic commerce companies. The biggest was a website called Instapicks that had started out a decade ago as a movie rental-sales operation but now sold everything pertaining to the entertainment world, from MP3s to home theaters (“Why settle for Netflix when you can Instapicks?”).
“I wasn’t aware Webber lived here in Chicago,” I said.
“Oh, yeah.” He paused to welcome two striking young female customers.
“Webber’s operation is out in Shamberg,” he said, when I had his attention again. “But he lives in this mansion on North State Parkway, a block down from the Hefner place. He’s the guy behind Onion City Entertainment, producing the
Thief Who
movie. That’s what the party was for, to hustle local businessmen to invest in the flicker.”
“Did you?”
He smiled. “Not as much as Big Jon, but a couple of pals and I ponied up enough for a point. It won’t kill me if the thing tanks. And if it turns out as big as the books, I won’t kick myself in the ass for ignoring the opportunity.”
I lost him again to a quartet of young men in business suits. I suppose I should have left him to his hosting duties, but I was curious about the CEO of Instapicks and Onion City Entertainment. He struck me as a potential interview subject.
“What kind of guy is Webber?” I asked, when Dann returned.
“A good guy. None of that I-know-more-than-you bullshit you get from some of the new-money boys. Makes you feel he’s vitally interested in whatever you’re telling him. And I gotta give him props for ‘hiring’ Jonny.”
“How’d that happen?”
“He had a lunch for backers and their families, to show off the studio he’d built out at the Instapicks compound.
“Oh! Yeah. So long.”
“C’mon, I’ll walk you to the door,” Dann said.
Out of the boy’s earshot, he said, “Jonny doesn’t need a whole lot of supervision. Since my sister passed away, about five years ago, he usually spends time at home with the help or at his dad’s office, where he watches TV and his brother Dickie looks in on him from time to time. Today, something came up and Dickie wasn’t available.”
“What about Jonny’s dad?”
“Big Jon? The tycoon?” He grinned as if that was a joke. “He’s a little busy to be taking care of the kid. He’s in construction and real estate. Maybe you’ve seen the BDI sign on the building they’re putting up across the street. BDI is Baker’s Dozen Industries. Jon’s doing a lot more hustling these tight money days. But he finds the time for Jonny. He should be here any minute to pick him up.”
“Jonny seems to like it here,” I said.
“And I like having him around. He’s a good kid. Only … he’s not a kid. He’s twenty-six.”
“Seems pretty good-natured,” I said.
“Yeah. Dickie could use some of that.” He frowned. “Sorry. Dickie’s just a little too … intense. But Jonny, he likes people.”
“Except for Madeleine. Whoever she is.”
“Madeleine Parnelle. Her husband writes the
Thief Who
books. What I’ve seen of her, I can’t fault Jonny on that one. Mother Teresa woulda been hard-pressed.”
We were at the door. A few happy-hour customers were stragglingin. They were all in their twenties. They seemed to know Dann, who gave them a wink or a pat on the back.
“The Parnelles eat here often?” I asked.
“Never been in, thank God. Oh, the husband seems okay, if a little distracted, you know what I mean. Like he’s got his mind on some other game. The wife makes up for it. She’s a real presence. A capital B-I-T-C-H. Treats him like shit, and just about everybody else worse than that. I’d as soon my staff not have to take her kind of crap. Work is hard enough.”
“You know the Parnelles from …?”
“I first caught their act at a party at Derek Webber’s. You know, the Instapicks guy.”
I did know. Webber was one of the current Internet gazillionaires. He chaired an assortment of multinational electronic commerce companies. The biggest was a website called Instapicks that had started out a decade ago as a movie rental-sales operation but now sold everything pertaining to the entertainment world, from MP3s to home theaters (“Why settle for Netflix when you can Instapicks?”).
“I wasn’t aware Webber lived here in Chicago,” I said.
“Oh, yeah.” He paused to welcome two striking young female customers.
“Webber’s operation is out in Shamberg,” he said, when I had his attention again. “But he lives in this mansion on North State Parkway, a block down from the Hefner place. He’s the guy behind Onion City Entertainment, producing the
Thief Who
movie. That’s what the party was for, to hustle local businessmen to invest in the flicker.”
“Did you?”
He smiled. “Not as much as Big Jon, but a couple of pals and I ponied up enough for a point. It won’t kill me if the thing tanks. And if it turns out as big as the books, I won’t kick myself in the ass for ignoring the opportunity.”
I lost him again to a quartet of young men in business suits. I suppose I should have left him to his hosting duties, but I was curious about the CEO of Instapicks and Onion City Entertainment. He struck me as a potential interview subject.
“What kind of guy is Webber?” I asked, when Dann returned.
“A good guy. None of that I-know-more-than-you bullshit you get from some of the new-money boys. Makes you feel he’s vitally interested in whatever you’re telling him. And I gotta give him props for ‘hiring’ Jonny.”
“How’d that happen?”
“He had a lunch for backers and their families, to show off the studio he’d built out at the Instapicks compound.
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