ONE #3
Chances to shine in front of Marty Adler didn’t come along every day, especially not mere weeks before your partnership vote. “I’d love to be on your team, Marty.”
“Wonderful,” he said, completely unsurprised. “Why don’t you come on up to my office, then, and I’ll fill you in on the deal.”
“I’ll be right there,” I said, and hung up.
Eeeeeee!
I did a happy dance in my swivel chair, spinning three full revolutions. I stopped and tilted my chair all the way back, feeling dizzy but exhilarated. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down, I gazed at the smooth cherry bookcases that lined an entire wall of my office.
I loved these shelves. They were home to the stacks and stacks of deal books I’d accumulated from every transaction I’d ever worked: mergers, asset purchases, asset sales, stock purchases, stock sales, all-cash deals, all-stock deals, stock swaps, recaps, roll-ups, reverse triangular mergers, forward backhanded mergers, around-the-ankle, behind-the-back, over-the-shoulder mergers.
You could easily lose track of the names and hundreds of ways these deals could be structured.
Half of this job was simply learning how to lob these terms around as casually as tennis balls.
I loved the closing of every deal. I could feel the power and influence that coursed through these conference rooms like electrical currents high atop the city.
I loved listening to closing dinner toasts at Jean Georges or La Grenouille at the very moment that gazillions of dollars, or yen, or euros, were originating from somewhere and landing, through the miracle of wire transfer, in our clients’ bank accounts halfway around the globe.
It was thrilling, the promise of such a world.
I walked over to my cedar wardrobe, opening the side with the full-length mirror. I checked my mascara and lip gloss and carefully retied the silk sash at the waist of my Audrey Hepburn–style sheath. Then, grabbing a pen and legal pad from my credenza, I fairly floated out to the elevator bank.
Marty Adler had a huge corner office on the thirty-seventh floor. I stopped at his secretary’s desk, expecting to have to give my name, but she glanced up and flashed me a familiar smile. “Hi, Ingrid. I’m Sharon. Nice to meet you. Mr. Adler’s expecting you. Go on in.”
“Thanks.”
I should have realized. Secretaries knew everything around here.
I rapped on the door once and pushed it open.
Adler was sitting all the way across the room, in a green leather swivel chair, behind a massive antique mahogany desk piled high with stacks of paper and Redwelds.
On the other side of the room, a high-backed couch and two antique chairs were nestled around a beautiful teak table with a conference phone resting on it.
Enormous picture windows ran along two sides of his office and all the way to the ceiling, flooding the room with midday sunlight that glinted off the top of Adler’s shiny bald head.
The long, low windowsills were cluttered with framed awards, plaques, photographs, and deal toys.
Deal toys were the souvenirs—little trophies, really—given to mark the successful closing of a merger or acquisition.
I loved collecting these. And wow, Adler had a lot of them.
“Come in, come in, Ingrid.” He came around the side of his desk, gesturing with his bifocals toward his couch. He was not a tall man, but he had heft. “Please sit.”
It seemed a long walk just to get there. I perched on the edge of the couch and positioned my legal pad demurely over my knees.
Adler lowered himself into a chair opposite me. “First off, I know I don’t need to tell you this, but this deal is still highly confidential.”
“Of course, Marty. No problem,” I said.
He leaned back, raised his arms, and clasped both hands behind his head, closing his eyes. Pale yellow pit stains tarnished his white dress shirt. I willed myself not to look directly at them. I did not like to be disillusioned.
“So,” said Adler, eyes still closed, “as you’ve probably heard through the grapevine, we’ve just been retained by SunCorp, the energy conglomerate based in Houston.”
I nodded as though I had.
“They’re about to acquire a clean energy upstart, Binney Enterprises, for nine hundred million and change,” Adler went on. “They’ve been after them for a year and a half, and finally shook hands with the Binney people last week.”
I scribbled furiously on my legal pad. Adler talked very fast.
“SunCorp is a huge opportunity for us. It could lead to a lot more work in the energy sector.”
He looked at me to make sure I understood this deal’s significance; I nodded brightly.
“Now, Ted Lassiter—SunCorp’s CEO—expects this to be top priority,” Adler continued. “He’s coming in Thursday to meet with us. Whatever else is on your calendar, move it. They want to sign a binding term sheet ASAP so they can announce publicly at the close of the quarter.”
I raised my eyebrows. “But that’s less than five weeks away.”
“I know.” Adler blinked. “That’s why I’m counting on you to focus on this as your top priority, Ingrid.”
It would require Herculean efforts from a team of lawyers working around the clock to bring an almost-billion-dollar acquisition from square one to a signed term sheet on that timetable. “Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll give it a hundred percent.”
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.” Adler clapped both hands onto his knees and stood.
This seemed to be my cue to stand, too. “Now, I told Ted Lassiter that after we meet with him Thursday, we’d get a preliminary draft term sheet to the other side by end of next week. Does that timing work for you?”
This was a rhetorical question.
“Of course,” I said.
“Great.” Adler smiled. “Oh, and Ingrid,” he added in a low voice, almost as an afterthought, “I want you to understand . . .” He paused conspiratorially.
Yes? Yes?? I realized I was actually holding my breath.
“I hope you understand that I wouldn’t trust a deal of this magnitude to just any associate. You’ve impressed a lot of the right people around here, and we knew you’d be able to run with this.”
My heart gave a little leap. “I really appreciate that, Marty. Thank you.”
He fluttered his hand at me—de nada. As I turned to go, barely able to suppress the huge smile forming on my face, he added casually, “Oh, just one more thing, Ingrid. There’s a particular Corporate paralegal I’ve asked to assist on this deal.
He just started here at the firm. Name’s Justin Keating. ”
I’d never heard of him. “Oh, a newbie?” I said. “Wouldn’t it be better to get one of the senior M&A paralegals for this? I usually work with either Evelyn Griffiths or Joseph Cruz, and they’re both terrific. Really smart, and on top of everything.”
Adler looked up. Annoyance briefly crossed his face.
“Justin Keating will be the paralegal on this deal,” he repeated.
Then, just as suddenly, the grin was back.
“From what I understand, he’s a very bright young man, eager to work hard and prove himself.
In fact, Ingrid, I’d consider it a personal favor to me if you could show the kid the ropes.
His father’s an old friend of mine, and a very good friend of the firm’s.
” He looked at me significantly. “I’d love for you to take Justin under your wing.
Really integrate him onto the deal team.
I’d do it myself, of course, but, well, I’m looking incredibly busy this month. ”
And I had just been tasked with taking a brand-new deal to announcement stage in less than five weeks’ time. No pressure, really.
“No problem, Marty,” I said. “It would be my pleasure.”
“Thanks, Ingrid. I knew the firm could count on you.” Adler sat back down behind his massive mahogany desk, signaling the end to our conversation.