Vince bristled. “That’s just too goddamned bad,” he said. “Because I don’t happen to give a damn whether you believe me or not. You can take your job and stick it up your—”
“Vince!” Merriweather’s eyes blazed. “No one talks to me like that.”
“I do,” Vince said.
“Maybe more people should,” Merriweather said. “You know, I do believe you now. It’s ridiculous, of course, but I believe you. You’re a fool, of course, but maybe the world needs more fools.”
Vince, naturally, kept his fat mouth shut. He was wondering why he hadn’t kept his fat mouth shut before, when he had an offer of twenty thousand dollars a year for doing nothing. Now he had no offer at all, which was substantially less.
“Vince,” Mr. Merriweather was saying, “perhaps I have something else you might be interested in. Not as attractive, but something.”
“I don’t want a handout, Mr. Merriweather.
“This isn’t a handout. Are you interested?”
“Maybe.”
Merriweather laughed. It was quite a laugh. He threw back his head and broke the room in half with his laughter. “You little wise guy,” he said. “You sharpie. How old are you, Vince?”
“Seventeen.”
“Just seventeen? You certainly aren’t the normal seventeen-year-old. What made you grow up so fast? Good Lord, the average youngster these days is a perfect example of stunted development. Four years of high school, four years of college, four years of graduate study — and the result is less mature than you are. Can you explain that? Was there any particular factor that made you grow up?”
Someone — it couldn’t possibly have been Vince — said: “Women.”
Merriweather’s laugh made the other laugh sound like a chuckle. “That’s it!” he said. “That’s the trouble with modern man. No rakes left in the world. A batch of sincere idiots. You must have been a real lady killer, Vince.”
Vince lowered his head modestly.
“That’s the secret,” Merriweather said. “Love ’em and leave ’em before you marry. Then stick to one woman. That’s the way I did it. I must have had... oh, I don’t know, but there were a hell of a lot of them. Then I met Helen and that was it for me. Strict fidelity. Uh... you will be faithful to Anita, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Vince said. “When you’ve had the best—”
“Precisely,” Mr. Merriweather said. “Vince, if someone had said you would turn out to be a boy after my own heart, I would have laughed in his face. But you’re all right, Vince. You’re too young for the offer I have in mind, but I think you might be able to handle it. Know what I’m getting at?”
“No.”
“Simple,” Merriweather said. “Our house is thinking of opening a Brazilian branch; dealing primarily in Brazilian securities. There’s a fortune to be made down there. They’re short of capital. The right investments will move at triple the speed of comparable investments Stateside. A Brazilian realty syndicate will pay thirty percent compared to an American ten percent. Brazilian stocks either fall flat or double every two months. It’s the perfect spot for a brokerage office. A smart man down there can get rich overnight. Or go completely broke. It’s up to the man involved.”
Vince wisely didn’t say anything.
“Interested?”
“In what?”
Merriweather smiled. “You’ll spend three months in the New York office,” he said. “You’ll make fifty dollars a week and you’ll hustle your behind off for it. Then you go down to Brazil — if you can stand the gaff. You’ll be second-in-command of the Sao Paolo office. You’ll put in twenty hours a day for a relatively small salary. But if you play your cards right, you’ll come out of there with a fortune in your pocket. It’s all up to you, Vince. If you make money, it’s your own money. If you lose, I won’t be around to bail you out. It’s all up to you.”
“I’ll take it,” Vince said.
“It’s not soft,” Merriweather said. “It’s hard. I don’t know if I would take it myself, come to think of it. I don’t know if I’d have the guts.”
“I think you would,” Vince said.
Merriweather studied him. “I think you’ll wind up broke,” he said. “I think you’ll come out of Brazil with your hat in your hand, begging me for a soft touch.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Vince said.
It was the middle of January and the sun was hotter than hell. The summer in Brazil came in the middle of winter. And when it was hot, hell was no hotter.
“I picked a winner,” Anita said. “I picked a real winner. You keep surprising me, Vince. And you keep winning.”
“Write your father,” Vince said. “Let him know about it.”
“He knows.”
“It looks as though the Moreno Dam is going through,” Vince said. “We’ve got a piece of it.”
“Good,” Anita said.
“We’re doing all right,” Vince said. “We’re doing fine. By the way, I love you.”
“You do?”
“Uh-huh. Quit hogging the pillow.”
“Sorry.”
“Comfortable bed,” Vince said. “Comfortable girl. You busy, little girl?”
“It’s awfully hot.”
“It can get hotter.”
“In this heat?”
“I’m strong,” Vince said. “And young. Come here, little one.”
The bed creaked and the world sang.