‘That’s grand larceny,’ said Alex. ‘I don’t need to remind you of the clause in our contract that says any rise in rent must reflect current market conditions.’
‘I’m glad you mentioned that particular clause,’ said Wolfe, allowing himself a wry smile, ‘because another stallholder recently took me to court claiming I was over-charging and cited that clause as proof. I’m happy to say the judge came down in my favour. So precedent has been set, Mr Karpenko.’
‘How much did that cost you?’
Wolfe ignored the comment as he pushed a familiar document across the table and, pointing to a dotted line, said, ‘Sign there, and the stall will be yours for another three years.’
Once again he looked as if he knew what Alex’s response would be. But to his surprise Alex sat down and began to read slowly through the contract clause by clause. Wolfe leant back, selected a cigar from the box in front of him, lit it and had taken several puffs before Alex picked up the pen on his desk and signed the agreement.
The cigar fell out of Wolfe’s mouth and landed on the floor. He quickly picked it up and brushed some ash off his trousers before saying, ‘Don’t forget that will be four thousand dollars in advance.’
‘How could I forget,’ said Alex. He opened his attaché case and extracted forty hundred-dollar bills. Every cent he, his mother and Dimitri possessed. He placed the cash on the blotting pad in front of Mr Wolfe, then put the contract in his attaché case, stood up and turned to leave. He was just about to open the door when Wolfe spluttered, ‘Don’t be in such a rush, Alex. Let’s talk this over like reasonable people.’
‘There’s nothing to talk over, Mr Wolfe,’ said Alex. ‘I’m looking forward to operating my stall for the next three years, and whatever the rent is when this licence expires, I’ll pay it.’ He touched the door handle.
‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, Alex. What if I were to offer you fifty thousand dollars to tear up the contract? That’s far more than you could hope to make even if you were running a dozen stalls.’
‘But nowhere near as much as the million dollars a year rent you’d be raking in if I were to tear the contract up.’ Alex opened the door.
‘How did you find out?’ said Wolfe, glaring at his back.
‘It’s not important how I learnt that the council will be granting you planning permission for a new shopping mall on June the seventeenth, only that I did. In the nick of time, I might add.’
‘How much do you want?’
‘I won’t settle for anything less than a million,’ said Alex. ‘Otherwise the bulldozers won’t be making their way onto your site for at least another three years.’
‘Half a million,’ said Wolfe.
‘Seven hundred and fifty thousand.’
‘Six hundred.’
‘Seven hundred.’
‘Six fifty,’ blurted Wolfe.
‘Agreed.’
Wolfe managed a half smile, feeling he’d still got the better of the bargain.
‘But only if you throw in the freehold for Mario’s Pizza Parlour on the corner of Players’ Square,’ added Alex.
‘But that’s daylight robbery,’ Wolfe protested.
‘I agree,’ said Alex. He sat down, opened his attaché case and took out two contracts. ‘If you sign here, and here,’ he said, pointing to a dotted line, ‘the builders can start work on the super-mall next month. If not...’
24
Alex
Brooklyn
‘Do you think I’m capable of that?’ said Elena.
‘Of course you are, Mama. Your problem is that you’ve spent your whole life underestimating yourself.’
‘That’s certainly never been one of your problems.’
‘Frankly, you’re too good to be working in a pizza parlour,’ said Alex, ignoring her reprimand. ‘But with my help we could build the brand, turn it around, sell it on and then set you up in your own restaurant.’
‘Great restaurants aren’t run by chefs, Alex, but by first-class managers, so before you risk one cent of your money on me, you must find an experienced manager.’
‘Good managers are two a penny, Mama. Great chefs are a far rarer commodity.’
‘What makes you think I’m a great chef?’
‘When you first got the job at Mario’s, I could always get a table, at any time of day. Now there are queues outside from eleven o’clock in the morning. And I can assure you, Mama, they are not queuing to meet the manager.’
‘But it would be such a risk,’ said Elena. ‘Perhaps you’d be wiser to put your money on deposit in a bank.’
‘If I did that, Mama, the only one making a profit would be the bank. No, I think I’ll risk a little of my new-found wealth on you.’
‘But not before you find a manager.’
‘Actually, I’ve already got someone in mind.’
‘Who?’ demanded Elena.
‘Me.’
Elena stared at the gold-embossed invitation card that Alex had put on the mantelpiece for all to see.
‘Who’s Lawrence Lowell?’ she asked as he sat down for breakfast.
‘You remember Lieutenant Lowell. He was the officer in command of my unit in Vietnam. Frankly I’m surprised he even remembered my name, let alone found out where I lived.’
‘Aren’t we coming up in the world?’ Elena teased, as she poured him a cup of coffee. ‘I don’t suppose there’ll be that many pizza parlour managers among his guests. Will you accept?’
‘Of course I will. I’m the manager of Elena’s, the most exclusive pizza house in New York.’
‘Exclusive in this case means there’s only one.’
Alex laughed. ‘Not for much longer. I’ve already got my eye on a second site a few blocks away.’
‘But we’re not making a profit at the first one yet,’ Elena reminded him as she put two eggs on to boil.
‘We’re breaking even, so it’s time to expand.’
‘But—’
‘But,’ said Alex, ‘my only problem is what to buy a man who has everything for his thirtieth birthday — a Rolls-Royce, a private jet?’
‘A pair of cufflinks,’ said Elena. ‘Your father always wanted a pair of cufflinks.’
‘I have a feeling Lieutenant Lowell just might have several pairs of cufflinks.’
‘Then make them personal.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Have a pair made with his family crest, or his club’s emblem, or even your old regiment.’
‘Good idea, Mama. I’ll have a pair engraved with a donkey.’
‘Why a donkey?’ asked Elena, as the egg timer buzzed to indicate four minutes.
‘Are you sure?’ said Alex as he looked at himself in the full-length mirror.
‘Couldn’t be more sure,’ said Addie. ‘It’s all the rage. By this time next year, everyone will be wearing wide lapels and bell bottoms. You’ll be the toast of Broadway.’
‘It’s not Broadway I’m worried about, but Boston, where I suspect it still won’t be the fashion even the year after next.’
‘In which case you’ll be a trend setter, and all the other guests will envy you.’
Alex wasn’t convinced, but he still bought the suit, and a frilly sky-blue shirt that Addie insisted went with it.
The following morning Alex rose early, but instead of heading straight for the market to select the day’s toppings, he went to Penn station, where he bought a return ticket to Boston. Once he’d found a seat on the train, he placed his small suitcase in the overhead rack and settled down to read the New York Times. The stark headline shouted: ‘NIXON RESIGNS’.