The Groaning Board

finally curled up on Silvestri’s pillow and
went to sleep.
    In the early hours of the morning,
anger was replaced by an overwhelming hurt. He didn’t trust her. He’d closed
her out. He wouldn’t share his feelings about Sheila Gelber’s death.
    If it were Wetzon having the crisis
and needing him, he Would be there. She knew he would. He’d been there for her
when she was going through post-traumatic shock. But he Wouldn’t let her do the
same for him.
    The center had not held.
    Silvestri was intent on hiding
something from her. What Was it? That he’d loved this woman and had a mad,
passion-ate affair with her years ago? What was there to hide? What "'as
there about the relationship between Sheila and Silvestri wiat was so private
he couldn’t talk about it? And yet he’d tQld Wetzon that he couldn’t remember
if he’d loved Sheila ornot.
    Then there was the other thing
gnawing at her. He’d called her a nag. Is that what he really thought of her?
How could that be? All she wanted was for them to have a life together. It was
a two-way street.
    Her alarm was a foghorn blasting her
from her stupor. She staggered out of bed and into the shower.
    By the time she got to the office, it
was well after ten, and now relief was the only sensation she was aware of. The
relief came from the realization that she wouldn’t have to keep up the
maintenance on their relationship. It was over. She could be alone, which right
now seemed not half bad.
    Wasn’t it difficult enough trying to
deal with Smith... ?
    Instinctively, Wetzon knew it was not
this dead woman who’d come between them. It was Silvestri himself. He was not a
sharer. He did his own thing. Well, okay, that was fine. Let him fly solo.
    Darlene brought her a mug of coffee.
“You look very pale,” she said. “Is anything wrong?”
    So solicitous was she that Wetzon’s
level of paranoia, normally low, rose. Darlene was neither sensitive nor
caring— that is, unless you happened to be a Vietnamese potbellied pig.
Darlene’s motivating forces were money and power, rather like Smith’s. But at
this moment Darlene’s face wore a tell-me-all-about-it Sally Jessy Raphaël mask
of pseudo-kindness.
    “Thanks, Darlene,” Wetzon said.
“Where’s Smith?“
    “She was here when I came in, but
said she’d be out the rest of the day. She said to tell you she’d see you
later.” * “Okay, thanks, Darlene. Max’ll be in any minute, so you’ll be
relieved of phone duty.”
    “Oh, that’s all right, really. I
don’t mind at all. In fact, l rather enjoy the change. Open or closed?”
    “Closed, please.”
    Darlene smiled and left, closing the
door.
    With the back of her pencil, Wetzon
tapped in Sonny Torcelli’s number. Sonny was the Atlanta manager for Larson
McKenzie, a small wire house about the size of the old Smith Barney before the
advent of Sandy Weill and Smith Barney’s merger with Shearson. Wetzon had
arranged for him to meet with two very big, very unhappy Pru brokers.
    “Wetzon!” Sonny screamed into the
phone. “I really goofed. Me and my big mout. You gotta help get me outa dis.”
    Sonny had the kind of Brooklyn accent
and manner that didn’t go over really well outside of New York. It was so
colloquial, he almost needed an interpreter.
    “What happened, Sonny? They were
really psyched.”
    “Listen, Wetzon, I’m from New Yawk.”
    Gedowdaheah, Wetzon thought.
    “I get all excited about tings, so I
said someting like ‘goddam fucking’... You know, da way I always tawk, and you
don’t take offense. Whyn’t you tell me dey were born-again Christians?”
    Wetzon pressed her lips together so
her laughter couldn’t escape.
    “Did you know?” Sonny demanded.
    “No, honestly, I didn’t,” she
admitted. “It never came up in our talks.”
    “Get on da phone and tawk to dem. Get
me outa dis mess. I gotta have dem in the office. It’ll look good on my record
when I’m up for review.”
    “Are you sure? You’ll have to watch
your language.”
    “Oh, dat don’t bodder me. Once dey’re
here, dey’ll get used ta me. Everybody does.”
    It turned out to be easier than
Wetzon had first thought. The two born-agains wanted money as much as the next broker
and Larson McKenzie was offering the biggest upfront deals on the Street now.
These guys did two mil together. Their signing package would be for one mil,
plus perks like expense accounts, computers, sales assistants, and a fifty
percent payout for two years. At another