meeting,’ Ernie said. ‘You can route my calls to Peter ,or Janet.’
‘Yes sir,’ Marcia said.
Ernie rode down to Michael’s floor in the regular elevator, the peasants’ elevator, as he thought of it. Normally, he rode in the brass and velvet, air conditioned president’s car, which only he and his guests could use. It was non-stop from the lobby to the sixteenth floor. But Michael Cicero didn’t get offices up near the executive suites of Blakely’s. He had a basic set of rooms on the fourth floor. At this stage, there was no point in putting any more cash into Green Eggs than they had to.
If the children’s book sector wound up profitable for Blakely’s, Green Eggs would get all the cash it needed, but by then, Michael Cicero would not be a part of it.
Ernie smiled as he thought of Jack Fineman’s cleverness. The backdoor deal with Grenouille and Bifte had made sure that the contract was badly presented to Cicero. There were plenty of outs for Blakely’s and few outs for Cicero. He would learn that nobody walked out on Ernie Foxton.
Of course, Michael didn’t have to learn that just yet. A happy employee was a productive employee. Ernie wanted to get the best .out of him, to pick his brains before he kicked him out.
Michael Cicero was thirty and self-made and he thought he knew everything. It would be a pleasure, Ernie decided, to show him how wrong he was.
‘So what do you think of it?’ Ernie asked loudly.
He pushed through the plain wooden door without knocking, and was pleased to see a young woman, presumably Cicero’s assistant, jump out of her skin. The space was boringly decorated, clean and functional
85
There was nothing of the black leather and gilt-clock elegance of the other Blakely’s offices, not to mention any trace of the opulence on Ernie’s floor. Cicero had no Eames chairs, no hand-woven Persian rugs. He had secretary cubicles and swivel-back chairs from an ‘economic’ office supply place.
But Cicero was walking around his small space as rapt as if Ernie had assigned him a wing at Versailles.
‘It’s amazing.’ He glanced into the corner office, slightly larger than the two beside it, where he would sit. ‘You even got us our own kitchen.’ Michael laughed. ‘Susan is thrilled she won’t have to go on a bagel run twice a day any more.’
‘And you’ve hired your new people?’ Ernie asked. He really didn’t care what Susan thought. She was” pretty enough, but girls like her were two a nickel in New York. He didn’t promote women up from assistant positions and he didn’t want to luck her, so she didn’t feature on his radar.
‘Yeah. I spoke to Felix last week. Everybody will be coning in today, making changes to the run we have ready to go. Of course, they will have to get used to all this.’ He waved a brawny arm around his offices, and Ernie realised the bitching about luxury wasn’t going to come. To Michael Cicero, this was luxury.
‘You have to bring your illustrators up to meet Janet and me.’ Ernie smiled warmly at the younger man. His lawyers had told him he had to -make sure of each piece of talent, individually, to really luck Michael over. Last thing he wanted was Cicero walking out before he had got hold of his talent. ‘We take pride in really getting to know a team we work with.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Michael repressed his distaste. He hated corporate therapy-speak that called workplaces ‘teams’ and ‘families’ and then didn’t hesitate to fire a guy who was underperforming. Plus, the limey was thin and had
86
manicured hands and what looked like a fake tan. He was a million miles away from Michael’s idea of a g,uy. But he was the one coming up with the money. So far, there had been no memos, no corporate interference. Just production dollars, meetings with finance guys and lots of cheques.
Michael reminded himself it was no more cheap paper and flimsy covers. No more riding around Brooklyn
‘Yes sir,’ Marcia said.
Ernie rode down to Michael’s floor in the regular elevator, the peasants’ elevator, as he thought of it. Normally, he rode in the brass and velvet, air conditioned president’s car, which only he and his guests could use. It was non-stop from the lobby to the sixteenth floor. But Michael Cicero didn’t get offices up near the executive suites of Blakely’s. He had a basic set of rooms on the fourth floor. At this stage, there was no point in putting any more cash into Green Eggs than they had to.
If the children’s book sector wound up profitable for Blakely’s, Green Eggs would get all the cash it needed, but by then, Michael Cicero would not be a part of it.
Ernie smiled as he thought of Jack Fineman’s cleverness. The backdoor deal with Grenouille and Bifte had made sure that the contract was badly presented to Cicero. There were plenty of outs for Blakely’s and few outs for Cicero. He would learn that nobody walked out on Ernie Foxton.
Of course, Michael didn’t have to learn that just yet. A happy employee was a productive employee. Ernie wanted to get the best .out of him, to pick his brains before he kicked him out.
Michael Cicero was thirty and self-made and he thought he knew everything. It would be a pleasure, Ernie decided, to show him how wrong he was.
‘So what do you think of it?’ Ernie asked loudly.
He pushed through the plain wooden door without knocking, and was pleased to see a young woman, presumably Cicero’s assistant, jump out of her skin. The space was boringly decorated, clean and functional
85
There was nothing of the black leather and gilt-clock elegance of the other Blakely’s offices, not to mention any trace of the opulence on Ernie’s floor. Cicero had no Eames chairs, no hand-woven Persian rugs. He had secretary cubicles and swivel-back chairs from an ‘economic’ office supply place.
But Cicero was walking around his small space as rapt as if Ernie had assigned him a wing at Versailles.
‘It’s amazing.’ He glanced into the corner office, slightly larger than the two beside it, where he would sit. ‘You even got us our own kitchen.’ Michael laughed. ‘Susan is thrilled she won’t have to go on a bagel run twice a day any more.’
‘And you’ve hired your new people?’ Ernie asked. He really didn’t care what Susan thought. She was” pretty enough, but girls like her were two a nickel in New York. He didn’t promote women up from assistant positions and he didn’t want to luck her, so she didn’t feature on his radar.
‘Yeah. I spoke to Felix last week. Everybody will be coning in today, making changes to the run we have ready to go. Of course, they will have to get used to all this.’ He waved a brawny arm around his offices, and Ernie realised the bitching about luxury wasn’t going to come. To Michael Cicero, this was luxury.
‘You have to bring your illustrators up to meet Janet and me.’ Ernie smiled warmly at the younger man. His lawyers had told him he had to -make sure of each piece of talent, individually, to really luck Michael over. Last thing he wanted was Cicero walking out before he had got hold of his talent. ‘We take pride in really getting to know a team we work with.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Michael repressed his distaste. He hated corporate therapy-speak that called workplaces ‘teams’ and ‘families’ and then didn’t hesitate to fire a guy who was underperforming. Plus, the limey was thin and had
86
manicured hands and what looked like a fake tan. He was a million miles away from Michael’s idea of a g,uy. But he was the one coming up with the money. So far, there had been no memos, no corporate interference. Just production dollars, meetings with finance guys and lots of cheques.
Michael reminded himself it was no more cheap paper and flimsy covers. No more riding around Brooklyn
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