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“Dennis, I won’t take much of your time. I wanted to ask for your take on the revised EPS projections Larry is handing out. They seem a bit aggressive to me given the current climate.”
The question was a trap.
Things had moved so fast yesterday that I hadn’t gotten a copy of the notes Larry had written up for his analyst calls. But I couldn’t say I didn’t know exactly what Larry was feeding the analyst community—that would be suicide.
“I don’t have anything to add to Larry’s comments,” I said.
“I get that, Dennis. I do. I was just looking for your take on the aggressiveness of the numbers.”
Another trap. He would use any tilt I offered in his forecasts. If I were optimistic, he’d set a high bar of expectations, and the market would punish us if we missed. If I didn’t show confidence, he’d move them down right away in a surprise move, the other analysts would follow, and the market would punish us.
Managing their expectations had to be done slowly, not the day after a major announcement, and he knew that.
“The numbers he gave you are our numbers. There’s been no change.”
“And the bottom-line benefit next quarter of the Hydrocom spin-off?”
“Michael, I’m late for my meeting. Get with Larry on your questions. He’ll be happy to help you.”
“I’m going to have to move down my forecasts, then.”
His threat might not be an idle one, but it was for Larry to handle.
“And also, do you have any rebuttal to Cartwright’s comments yesterday afternoon about the spin-off?”
I didn’t pay attention to Cartwright’s barbs anymore. He could go fuck himself. I took a moment to control my anger. “No, I don’t have any comment. Bye, Michael.” I hung up on him.
Not the best way to curry favor with the financial community, but he was supposed to be calling Larry, not me.
Besides, Gumpert was an arrogant ass and needed to be taken down a notch or two. He carried around a handkerchief embroidered with his family coat of arms, as if that should mean something in this day and age.
Cartwright was another thorn in my side. With a history of attacking companies such as ours—and extorting them—he was a financial low-life. His plan of attack followed a standard path. He’d publicly attack a company while buying stock and increasing his position. If the company became vulnerable enough, he’d demand seats on the board to “help” them.
That’s when his targets often paid him off to go away, and where he made most of his money. Wall Street had even invented the termgreenmailfor this approach. Occasionally he’d go further in his attacks and attempt to gain control of the board.
I had to wonder if this was payback for the run-in I’d had with his son, Adam, years ago. Regardless, I had no intention of paying the blood-sucking scum.
* * *
Jennifer
My alarm madethe fatal mistake of buzzing at me from the nightstand.
It took me two tries to whack it hard enough to get the devilish thing to shut up. The noise it made hitting the floor didn’t sound good. One of these days it wouldn’t survive the abuse.
Ramona had suggested I use my phone, but I was deathly afraid I’d break it the way I had my last two alarm clocks. At less than twenty bucks, they were expendable, and my phone wasn’t.
I rolled out of bed having gotten almost no real sleep last night. But I needed to get up. Tuesday was my day to use the bathroom first.
The warm water of the shower slowly rinsed the grogginess out of my brain.
It should have been a soothing night after seeing Dennis Benson take the beating he deserved. Instead,myworld had taken the beating, and my sleep had suffered.
It was so unfair that Benson had found a way to thwart me. He’d come out on top and put me in the position of having to choose between Dad and Ramona.
How would Ramona feel if I stayed at Vipersoft and cost us the income we needed? She and Billy would suffer the most.
How would I feel putting them through that?
