The Groaning Board

out the minute they
lowered the houselights.”
    “The Groaning Board? The Barracuda is
having a catered affair?” Carlos said, using the name he’d bestowed on Smith
from the day he’d first met her.
    “She is indeed.”
    “What did you think of the Tempest
and the Teapot, as Devora and Barron are known in the trade? Tell the truth
now.” He shook a slim finger at her.
    “You know them,” she accused.
    “Birdie, darling, everybody in New York knows everybody else. Besides, there are only seven people in the whole world.
It’s John Guare’s six degrees of separation,” he added smugly. “I know Mickey
Devora because she used to live down the hall from Arthur. We were her
unofficial tasters. I lost five pounds after she bought that carriage house and
moved out. And...“ He paused dramatically.
    “And what?”
    “And I went to Bennington with the
Teapot, the impossible Alice.”
    “Alice? Is that what the A stands
for? What about the T?” Carlos grinned. “Toklas.”
    “You’re kidding. No wonder she calls
herself A.T.“
    “Well, if she called herself A.B.T.,
she’d have to share it with the American Ballet Theatre.” He’d come out of his
funk. “The formidable Barron père met Gertrude and Alice in Paris after the Liberation. Have you met Hem?”
    “No. Who’s Hem?”
    “Hemingway Barron, the brother.”
    “The financier?”
    “The very one.”
    “Well, now that’s interesting. So père and mère Barron were bohemian expatriates.”
    “Actually, père was the
original authoritarian personality, convinced most women were weak-brained,
except for the lesbians. He did admire those girls. But the Barrons were money,
honey. When the old folks died, they left a ton of it. Half was split between
Hem and Alice, a quarter went to a family foundation, and the other quarter is
in trust for their heirs”
    “Of which there are?”
    “None. Minnie and Hem have been
trying for years. In v itro and all that.”
    “Minnie? Wait a minute. Don’t tell me
that Minnie Wu is married to Hem Barron!”
    “I won’t tell you, then.”
    “Christ, Carlos, that Minnie is a
nasty bitch.”
    “I see you’ve met our Min.”
    “Met everyone except Hem.”
    “You’re in for a treat.”
    “No way, José, am I ever going to
have any more to do with that repulsive group,” Wetzon declared.
    Which goes to show that nothing is
certain in this world and which immediately cleared the way for the gods to
meddle in her life, for Wetzon of all people should have known i that
one should never say never.
     
    After Carlos left, Wetzon fed Izz,
then lounged in her tub for a half hour. Then, in her sweats, her hair unbound,
she reveled in being alone.
    She wasn’t really hungry, but she had
the nibbles, a chronic condition that could only be soothed by chocolate. She
brewed Starbucks decaf roast and broke off a chunk of dark chocolate from a
larger brick. With mug and chocolate, she curled up on the sofa next to the
drowsing dog.
    Damn. She hadn’t unloaded her
briefcase. She got up and brought the case back to the sofa. That effort called
for a large bite of chocolate.
    She went through her papers. Nothing
major to deal with.
    It could all wait till the morrow.
    Everything went back into the
briefcase except the white envelope with the press kit and sample contract that
A.T. had given Smith. It was awfully thick. She turned it over in her hand. Was
there any reason she shouldn’t look at it? No, of course not. But why would she
want to bother?
    “Idle nosiness, that’s all,” she told
Izz, who gave her a magnificent yawn. Wetzon opened the clasp and removed the
papers.
    What she found was not p.r. material,
nor was it a contract for a catered affair. She read the first page. She had
seen these things often enough. The pages were a preliminary prospectus for an
IPO, an initial public offering for a company in the process of going public.
The left border of its cover was printed in red ink, which gave an offering of
this kind its name in Wall Street jargon: a red herring. The red ink served as
a warning to would-be investors that the prospectus did not contain all the
pertinent information about the offering and some information contained within
might change when the final prospectus was ready. CONFIDENTIAL was stamped in
red across the cover.
    The company was The Groaning Board.
    She turned the page. Under a paper
clip marking the second page was a folded sheet of notes. The writing was in a
hand she