Vinnie, at the next table, waved Michael over. Sitting with him was Carol Cirone, Vinnie's girlfriend for years. With her bleached-blond bouffant, skintight white sweater, and string of pearls, she looked like a caricature from West Side Story, but no one kidded her about it, at least not in front of Vinnie.
"Mikey," Vinnie called. "Get over here! Have you eaten?"
Michael passed the table with the hired hands. "Hey, guys," he said to be respectful. They all nodded but didn't speak.
Vinnie took his napkin from his shirt collar, pushed out of his side of the banquette, stood up, and gave Michael a hug. Michael hugged back but felt awkward, knowing the news he was bringing was not going to make Vinnie happy.
With one hand resting on Michael's shoulder, Vinnie gestured toward his lunch companions. "You know Carol, of course."
"Of course," Michael said. Michael took the demurely extended hand and gave it an equally demure shake.
"Sit down, sit down," Vinnie repeated as he regained his seat. In contrast to his diction, his voice was more cultured than one would expect considering his line of work, and when he lost his temper, which was not infrequent, it didn't change, a characteristic Michael found unnerving.
Michael slid in on the opposite side, pinning Carol between himself and Vinnie.
"How about some spaghetti Bolognese?" Vinnie suggested. "And a glass of Barolo? It's 'ninety-seven and out of this world."
Michael agreed to everything rather than start out on the wrong foot. Vinnie hadn't changed much since high school, where he'd always wowed the girls. His nickname was "The Prince." His features were full and well sculpted. Like Michael, he favored the tailored look and dressed in a suit and tie every day. Also like Michael, he prided himself that he weighed the same as he did in high school, and worked out regularly to maintain his physique.
"So, how are our investments going?" Vinnie asked. When it came to business, Vinnie didn't waste a lot of time. Michael had been doing business with Vinnie for more than a decade. It had started small when Michael had joined Morgan Stanley and come to Vinnie with the idea of laundering the Lucia organization's take from drugs, loan-sharking, gambling clubs, fencing, extortion rings, hot-car rings, and hijacking, mostly from Kennedy Airport. Michael had proposed to use the money as venture capital for IPOs through a series of shell companies, and the relationship had proved remarkably beneficial to both parties. Michael not only laundered the money but often doubled it, whereas previously Vinnie had to pay for such a service. With ever-increasing capital available as Vinnie had become more and more comfortable, Michael had been able, on amicable terms, to leave Morgan Stanley and establish his own boutique investment-banking firm.
"To be truthful," Michael said, in response to Vinnie's direct question, "there's a problem I need to talk to you about."
"Oh, really?" Vinnie questioned with the deliberately calm, soft voice that made Michael's hackles rise.
"I'm afraid so," Michael said. His voice had a quavering quality that he hoped only he could hear.
"Carol, honey," Vinnie said. "Could you excuse us? Mikey and I need to talk."
"I'm not finished with my spaghetti," she whined.
"Carol!" Vinnie said in a slightly lower tone and looking at her askance.
"Oh, all right," Carol responded, throwing her napkin on top of her plate. "But where am I supposed to go?"
"Wherever you like, doll. Freddie or Richie can drive you."
After watching Carol depart, Michael regained his seat and again faced Vinnie, who stared him down. Michael inwardly squirmed.
"I hope this trouble isn't about Angels Healthcare, because if it is, I'm getting a bad feeling," Vinnie said at length.
Michael cleared his throat and was about to speak when the waiter appeared tableside with a steaming plate of spaghetti, a glass, and flatware. Sensing the tension, the waiter quickly laid out the place setting, poured wine into the glass, and disappeared.
"It is about Angels Healthcare," Michael admitted. "Angels Healthcare needs more money to keep the doors open. The problem has been getting rid of the bacteria. The bacteria required shutting the ORs, which turned off the revenue spigot."
"That's the same story I heard a month ago," Vinnie said. Although his voice stayed calm, his eyes reflected his rising ire. "My recent loan was supposed to cover expenses until the IPO."
"That was my understanding as well, until my ex told me differently an hour ago," Michael said, with the idea of transferring responsibility to her.
"Why didn't it happen?"
"The ORs stayed closed longer than expected, keeping revenue down, and the disinfecting process cost more than expected."
"Are the ORs open now?"
"Yes, but it will take a few weeks for the doctors to trust that the problem is over."
"Is it over?"
"Yes, that's my understanding."
"Your understanding about how much money was needed missed the mark. What makes you think your understanding about the infection problem is any more accurate?"
"I don't know," Michael said with a shrug. "I can only relate what I'm told."
"How much money is needed to get through the IPO?"
"I was told two hundred thousand."
Vinnie went back to drilling Michael with his eyes. Michael flinched first and glanced down at his food. Under the circumstances, he didn't know which was more disrespectfuclass="underline" eating or not eating. The last thing he wanted to do was irritate Vinnie over manners. Vinnie could be touchy about such issues.
"Eat!" Vinnie said, breaking the silence.
Michael wasn't hungry, but he picked up a fork and struggled to twirl a mouthful of spaghetti.
"I'm not at all happy about all this," Vinnie said. He leaned forward menacingly. "I'm starting to feel like your lackey. First you come to me for money, next it's about an accountant who wants to blab to the Feds about the negative cash flow, and now it's more money. When does this end?"
"I never expected any of this," Michael said in his defense. "But it's still a great investment. Trust me! I wouldn't have committed your money if it wasn't. I've even hocked just about everything I own to maximize my own position."
"In all honesty, I don't care about your money," Vinnie said. "I care about the money I'm responsible for. I don't want it to be lost. I'd have a lot of explaining to do."
"The money is not going to be lost," Michael said decisively even though he wasn't as sure as he sounded. "Worst case is the IPO is postponed."
"I don't want that to happen, and I'm doing my part. I've already kicked in an extra quarter of a mil. I'm also dealing with the accountant issue."
"You haven't spoken to him?" Michael asked with alarm.
"Oh, I've spoken with him. Even Franco and Angelo have spoken with him."
"He's not being cooperative?"
"I wouldn't say that. I'm absolutely sure he's not going to file. It's just his secretary is an unknown quantity who, unfortunately, has a copy of the potentially troublesome report. It seems we have to talk with her as well."
"I'd never thought of that," Michael admitted. "Good idea!" He was relieved. The last thing he needed was the resurgence of a problem he'd thought had been solved. Although Michael liked doing business with Vinnie, he didn't want to know where the money came from or any of the details of Vinnie's operations. Michael's imagination was enough, which was why he was as nervous as he was in the current imbroglio.
"The point is, Mikey, I'm certainly doing my part," Vinnie continued, "and I'd like you to do yours. If more money is needed to get Angels Healthcare though the IPO, it comes from you."