Chapter 5 - Caroline #2
The voice on the phone returned. “Uh. Harrison? What’s happening right now?”
“Sorry, Mr. Chairman,” Blackstone said, eyes still locked onto me. “This is a personal matter. I’m going to need to call you back.”
“The markets close in an hour,” the voice said. “If you could respond to me by then…”
“Of course. Give me a call back in ten minutes and we can continue this discussion.” He hit a button, ending the call.
“Chairman?” I asked.
“The Chairman of the Federal Reserve,” Blackstone replied simply. “Jerome Powell. You might have heard of him?”
I felt my skin go cold. That’s why the voice sounded familiar.
“There was an emergency related to a potential change in the Fed’s interest rates, and Jerome wanted my input. And no, I’m not joking, so you can pick your jaw up off the floor.”
I clamped my mouth shut. Jerome Freaking Powell. I’d been trying to get an interview with him for years.
Blackstone was outright grinning at me, now. I’d fucked up.
Rafael cleared his throat behind me. “This is my fault. I dropped my guard for two seconds and she—”
“It’s not your fault my biographer has a strong will,” Blackstone said. “Now, Caroline, what is so important that you had me hang up on the Chairman of the Federal Reserve?”
I swallowed the bile that was creeping up the back of my throat. I felt nauseous. “It can wait, if you want to—”
“It’s too late now. Sit down. Let’s get this over with.”
Properly cowed, I took the seat across from him.
Rafael remained in the room, standing at the door with his arms crossed like a sentinel.
My blood pumped in my temple so loud it was hard to think.
I’d made a career-limiting decision by barging in here.
If Powell called The Journal, I would be fired by the end of the day.
“Well?” Blackstone calmly said. “I assumed Rafael could handle my backstory, but apparently you need to talk directly to me.”
I took a moment to collect myself. Relax, Caroline. You’re in here, now make the best of it.
“Rafael was basically just reading me your Wikipedia page,” I said. “No offense, Rafael, but I can do that research on my own. What I want from you, Mr. Blackstone, are details nobody else knows about.”
“Please, call me Harrison.”
I ignored him. “I need an anecdote from your childhood. Something I can begin the book with, to set the tone for your entire biography.”
Blackstone leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other.
He looked totally in control, like he knew I would barge into his office, and I had played right into his plans.
Behind him was a sweeping view of Manhattan and the Hudson River beyond, with the Statue of Liberty’s torch reflecting the afternoon sun like a beacon.
“A childhood anecdote…” he repeated, scratching his chin.
Desperate to regain control of the situation, I said, “I suspect you already have a story you want to use. So why don’t you drop the act and just tell me about it?”
He chuckled in surprise, then told Rafael, “Didn’t I say she’s like you?”
“You did,” Rafael replied.
Blackstone’s cold sapphire gaze swept back to me like the Eye of Sauron. For a moment, I was glad to only be a journalist writing about him rather than a business rival trying to compete with the man.
“I do have a story in mind, actually. When I was in ninth grade, my first year in high school, I started my first business. I sold candy at school out of my backpack. Most of my sales were before school, during lunch, and after school. It taught all the basics of running a business. Buying my product at a low price and selling it for a profit. Determining what my fellow classmates wanted, and refilling my inventory at the bodega on the way home from school.”
“I understand supply and demand, yes,” I said.
“I even dealt with bullies who wanted to steal my supply.
I hired an upper classman to protect me.
It was a great little business for a fourteen-year-old.
I made an average of seventy-two dollars a week during the school year, nearly two grand by summer break.
A fortune for a working class kid going to public school.
I used the money to buy a new computer. One nicer than the hand-me-down Dell laptop my parents gave me.
“But the next year, the school cafeteria had a new feature: a snack booth. It was open throughout the day, and they sold everything I did. And worse, they were undercutting my prices. My business was dead. I couldn’t compete with that.”
I leaned forward, entranced by the story in spite of myself.
“But then I joined the school newspaper. I used that position to interview the principal about the snack booth. I learned that it was operated by Mrs. Ellicot, one of the math teachers. She bought her supplies at Costco on the weekend, supplying the stand for the whole week. When she sold out of an item, it wasn’t refilled until the following week.
“I borrowed money from my father. My first business loan. And on Monday morning, I walked up to Mrs. Ellicot’s snack booth and bought her out.
I literally purchased every item, negotiating a bulk discount.
Three hundred dollars worth of candy. That gave her a tidy profit, and meant she didn’t have to run the stand all week.
Then I turned around and sold all the candy at a higher price.
“I made twice as much profit that year as I did the year before. I also learned a lot of valuable lessons. How to eliminate competition and corner the market.”
“Lessons about abusing capitalism,” I said before I could stop myself. “And creating a monopoly.”
“If you want to see it that way, perhaps. Regardless of your opinion, I learned how the world actually works. Not the way the textbooks explained it, but the actual meat-and-bones of the market. The way it’s been for decades before I humbly tossed my hat into the ring on Wall Street.
Those are lessons I still carry around with me today.
” He spread his hands. “Is that a good anecdote to begin the book with, or were you thinking of something else?”
“That story will suffice,” I replied.
The phone on the desk lit up. “Mr. Blackstone. I have Mr. Powell on the line for you.”
“One moment, Angie.” He muted the phone and returned his attention to me. “As my biographer, I will give you as much access to my life as I can.”
“Good,” I said.
His expression darkened. “But trust goes two ways, Caroline. When I tell you I have an emergency, you need to take me at my word. If you barge into my office again uninvited, I will have no choice but to call my contacts at The Journal. It will go very poorly for you.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked.
He sputtered a laugh. “Yes. I thought that was obvious. I’ll give you access, but don’t just storm in here like you’re the most important item on my schedule, all right?”
I glanced at the red light on the conference phone. The Chairman of the Federal Reserve was on hold because of me. “I understand.”
“I’ll have Angie schedule our next meeting. Goodbye, Caroline.”
Rafael was silent as he escorted me into the next room, where I was handed off to another security guard.
But when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Blackstone watching me through the glass.