‘Water’s still pretty cool this time of year. But it’s OK. Quiet.’ He propped the board against the walkway’s rail and unzipped his suit. ‘What are you doing up so early?’
‘Couldn’t sleep, I guess.’
Neither of them said anything for a few moments.
‘Look, I wanted to reiterate what I said last night. About Jen and Casa D’Or.’
Connor shrugged. ‘Sure. Do what you’ve gotta do. Just know that Jennifer’s a good person, she’d never make you feel bad, and that shit with the house . . . it’s upset her, that’s all. Stirred up things she’d rather forget. We’d all rather forget.’
‘I understand. And I’m sorry.’
Connor let out a long breath, glancing at Jim.
‘And I should apologise too. Shouldn’t have gone so crazy at you,’ he said begrudgingly. ‘You know what parties are like. Stressful.’
Jim was surprised to hear any sort of apology.
‘Jen said the condo development is all a bit high-maintenance at the moment.’
‘Did she?’ Connor said disapprovingly.
‘I tell you, I’ve been there a dozen times. Japanese knotweed almost brought one development we were working on to its knees.’
Connor looked at him for a moment, as if he were weighing things up.
‘It’s just a liquidity thing. I need to do a bit of refinancing. It will be fine.’
‘Will it?’ He wanted to push him for an answer. He knew men like Connor would sooner be admitted to the asylum than own up to failure or weakness, but Connor’s fortunes affected Jennifer’s life too. He remembered his own teenage years. When royalties from his father’s book had dried up, the estate agents came round to value the house, and he was pulled out of his fee-paying school to go to the comprehensive down the road.
‘What is your point, Jim?’
‘No point,’ he replied. ‘I’m just wondering if there is anything I can do to help.’
Connor gave a loud sarcastic bellow. ‘Ha. I bet you’re loving this. First buying Casa D’Or, and now you’re offering to open the Omari contacts book.’
‘I wouldn’t wish cash-flow problems on any developer,’ Jim said honestly.
‘Right.’
‘What is it you need?’
A look of anger crossed Connor’s face. Jim sensed he had overstepped the mark. The great Connor Gilbert didn’t need to go cap in hand to some hotel employee.
‘Try a few dozen more billionaires in Manhattan within the next eighteen months.’
‘How many have you sold?’
‘Some,’ he said cautiously.
‘But not enough,’ said Jim, filling in the gaps.
‘Sales have plateaued. There are bigger, shinier developments in the city. I thought Manhattan had the highest number of billionaires per capita in any city in the world. Apparently that’s not enough to sustain the number of high-net-worth developments.’
‘Anything I can do? I mean, if it’s bridging finance you need . . .’
‘What are you doing, Johnson? Your girlfriend’s dirty work? Looking for a scoop for the business pages of that trivia site she works for?’
‘Believe me when I say that anything I can offer is purely to help an old friend.’