CHAPTER THIRTY–THREE
The penthouse bar of the Clifton Hotel had taken over from the Gansevoort as the hottest rooftop watering hole in Manhattan and, despite her bad, distracted mood, Liz could not fail to be impressed by the views. In front of her the Empire State Building was lit up blue, red, and silver, like a giant platinum rocket, while the lights of Manhattan twinkled and shimmered like an Oasis in the desert. Inside the bar, the faces of the crowded party–goers were given a golden cast by the hurricane lanterns placed on the bar and the walls. It was cosy, yet exclusive – an apt location for tonight’s event, a Wall Street networking event–cum–drinks party hosted by the financial magazine, The Fund. Liz was here at Rav’s invitation and, as she looked around, she was amazed how few women went to these things. Perhaps that was accounted for by the fact that there were so few very senior women on Wall Street. If you weren’t in the boys’ club, you didn’t get on. Rav approached carrying two drinks with an apologetic half–smile.
‘Sorry,’ he said, kissing her on the lips as he handed her a stemmed Martini glass.
‘Whatever for?’ she asked.
‘For leaving you alone for so long.’
Liz was almost touched by his protectiveness, although suspected that his alpha–male routine was for the benefit of his fellow party–goers, most of whom Liz had noticed checking her out. No wonder, she smiled to herself: she did look sensational in a chocolate–brown, form–fitting Gucci dress that accentuated her slim waist and pert breasts.
‘Don’t worry, I can look after myself,’ she said with just the right balance of censure and flirtation. Rav’s dark eyes danced across Liz’s before he spoke.
‘I’ve just been speaking to some of the guys from Petersen’s,’ he said name–checking the boutique investment bank and jerking his thumb towards a group of suits standing by the bar. She glanced at her watch, already bored, already having dismissed Rav’s banking friends as being too far down the pecking order to be of any importance. In fact, in the ten minutes she had been sitting on her own, she had worked out there was no one here worth meeting that she didn’t already know and, as she had a hair appointment at seven a.m. with Enrique at Skin Plus, she wanted an early night.
‘A group of them have rented a chalet in Aspen for Christmas,’ continued Rav. ‘They wanted to know if I wanted in.’
‘Sounds fun,’ shrugged Liz. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘It’s over Christmas and New Year.’
Liz smiled at Rav’s ham–fisted transparency. ‘Is that a roundabout way of asking me if you’re invited to Brooke and David’s wedding?’ she asked archly.
‘Well, I didn’t know if it was going to a happen over the holidays,’ he stammered.
‘You’re a bad liar, darling,’ she smiled, touching his chin. ‘One of the tabloids ran a story this week that it’s happening on New Year’s Eve, and I know you read those awful rags because I’ve seen you.’
Watching him smile like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Liz realized that she did not entirely object to Rav being at Brooke’s wedding with her. He made her laugh, sometimes, and while he had not introduced her to anyone important, he had provided a distraction this summer. At weekends he took her to parties in the Hamptons; he was a more than competent tennis partner and he was generous with his money. Although Liz generally preferred older men, the beauty of a younger man – particularly one in clear awe of Liz’s sexuality – was his eagerness.
Her eyes wandered across the crowd and met a familiar stare. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said. ‘Leonard’s here.’
She strode over, but instead of an embrace, she met her uncle with a challenging stare. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ she demanded.
‘You’re not the only one with friends on Wall Street,’ replied Leonard with a half–smile. ‘Not that I’m fitting in here, by any means. The banking profession gets younger every time I look.’
He accepted a cocktail from a passing waiter and looked at the purple concoction curiously while Liz watched him. This was the first time Liz had spoken to Leonard since the Asgills’ board meeting the day before, when William and Meredith’s plan to put Asgill Cosmetics up for sale had been officially ratified. While she was still angry, she knew she had to step carefully; Leonard was no fool, and had many friends and allies both inside the company and out.
‘Liz, I just want you to know that I respect your judgement and I know how much the family business means to you,’ said Leonard, addressing the unspoken.
‘Which is why you sold me down the river in the board meeting?’ asked Liz, her tone light, but the point deliberate. Liz had spent the previous week considering her options, even discreetly consulting an attorney to discuss suing her family. It had been disappointing; the lawyer had advised that direct legal action was possibly not the best course of action until she had explored every other avenue, first trying to persuade the board not to sell. Unanimous board approval was needed for a company sale, and so immediately she had picked off the three board members she thought might listen to what she had to say, taking them to the city’s best restaurants and giving them her impassioned plea not to approve the sale. Even as she was doing it, Liz knew it wasn’t going to be enough. She knew that even the board members who were prepared to listen to her didn’t exactly like her. It was obvious why: time and time again, Liz had showed up their shortcomings. To Liz’s mind, it was deeply unfair that she was being penalized for being the only voice on the board willing to speak out and make brave suggestions, even if it meant disrupting the status quo. They thought she was a bitch; she thought they were pussies.
In the event, only Leonard had raised any objections to the proposed sale. Liz was pleased; she had always had a much closer relationship with her uncle than her mother and, while he had an annoying tendency to sit on the fence, at least he seemed to respect Liz’s capabilities. She had been outraged therefore when he had capitulated under the full force of Meredith’s disapproving gaze and had voted for a sale. Left without allies, Liz had also been forced into a ‘yes’ vote, knowing that if she were the sole dissenter her mother, with her majority shareholding, would simply vote her off the board.
I hate my family, she thought suddenly, closing her hands into tight fists.
‘Anger isn’t going to achieve anything, Liz,’ said Leonard, catching the ges
ture.
‘I’m not angry. Just disappointed,’ she said as evenly as she could. ‘Although I knew you would all just stick together like sheep, following mother’s lead as always.’
‘My decision was for the long–term good of the company, not your career,’ said Leonard. ‘Your time will come.’
‘And when will that be?’ she asked tartly.
He paused to look at her, the light from the lamps making his face ghostly pale.
‘Meredith won’t stay chairman of the board forever, Liz.’