Читать книгу PIPER'S, Inc. - Joaquin De Torres - Страница 6

Trust National Bank, Branch 47

30^th floor

Rochester, New York

Twenty-five-year-old Croatian fashion designer Diana Noel, couldn’t believe what the loan officer had just said to her.

“Excuse me?” She kept a tentative smile, but her eyes flashed with confusion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite get that.” Sheldon Rosenbaum, bank president, executive loan officer, securities officer, and senior board member of New York’s Small and Medium Entrepreneur Administration, sat back in his chair behind his massive mahogany desk.

Diana sat on the other side of his desk. He regarded the attractive young woman with a confident smirk, tilting his head back and pursing his lips. His thoughts, salacious and insidious, were working from the moment she stepped through the door. He repeated what he had said seconds before.

“Take off your clothes.” Diana swallowed nervously, her eyes looking at the documents she presented to him just to avoid his lustful stare. She’d never heard such a statement in the short period she had been in business in the fashion industry. This could never happen in Croatia where she managed six NOEL stores in the beautiful capital city of Zagreb. Her being so far away from her country was no accident. She had a plan for coming to New York.

Croatian labor costs were rising, and the economy was still stagnant despite the country’s European Union status. With 4.5 million people, and over 20 percent unemployment, Croatia was too small for Diana’s dreams. NOEL was a successful business, specializing in top quality women's fashions, lingerie, and shoes. But because of the quality of her products, the prices were a bit steep. Not Dolce and Gabbana steep, but perhaps a little too steep for the average Croatian citizen.

Special orders by European celebrities and the elite were what kept her business above water. However, it wasn’t the elite she wanted to market to, but the mainstream community. Other chains importing cheap materials and using Third World sweatshops to make their products like H&M, Mango, La Senza, and The United Colors of Bennington threatened to close her business down. She couldn’t compete with the crap imported from China, Bangladesh, Malaysia, India, Pakistan, and Turkey. And if that wasn’t enough, Zagreb itself was hurting her. The rental buildings, delivery costs, utilities, imported materials, advertising, her employees, and taxes were sucking down her profits. She was at the crossroads, drowning in a mud hole of a bad economy and escalating production costs.

Her personal life was a disaster. Designing the clothes herself, shopping for the materials, and most of the time sewing them together, rendered her social life non-existent. Stress was constant; sleep was sacrificed, and chasing the dollar, or as they say in Croatia, chasing the kuna, was a closed loop. In fact, the only activity that she did, and remained committed to, was her once-per-week English classes.

English was essential for living in the Euro zone, but mandatory in the fashion world. Those hours of conversation and vocabulary lessons were her periods of relaxation. She was able to socialize freely with her classmates, be a real person. But it was also an opportunity to prepare for the media and her plans to expand beyond the Adriatic. Despite the strain on her life, her clothes were, in fact, making a name for themselves among those in that media world.

She was invited to show her collections in Croatian and EU fashion shows, and appeared on talk shows, and magazines promoting the business dreams of Croatia. This helped the NOEL brand with prestige and free advertising, but did little to pay all the bills. She was told by many in the industry, and even in her family, that if she wanted to survive she’d have to think big and out of the box. And whenever she heard that, it meant one thing: She had to go to America.

“So, I will repeat, Miss Noel. . .take off your clothes.”

She blinked out of her daydream, and took a deep breath. The demand, here in a bank, made no sense! She could understand it if she were applying for a stripper’s position, or a modeling job, but she was there to apply for a business loan! She looked up at the man timidly. Seeing her complete confusion, he got up from his desk and walked over to a matching mahogany wall cabinet and bookshelf that extended the entire width of the wall. Her eyes followed him cautiously, then dragged over to where a long, beautiful leather couch sat. Her eyes quickly darted back to him as he opened the cabinet doors. Within were several bottles of expensive spirits, wine and crystal glasses. He took two goblets and a large, ornate bottle of what looked like brandy, and returned to the front of his desk where she sat. The huge brandy bottle was also crystal, and filled with almost 1.5 liters of dark, orange liquid.

Diana’s hands were trembling as the urge to run out the door began to grow. She pulled her eyes away from him and looked ahead, beyond his chair and through the massive, wall-to-wall bay view windows that gave a breathtaking panorama of the city. He poured a brandy for her, and before he could fill his own glass, she grabbed the goblet and drained hers dry. She put the empty goblet on his desk to his amazement. He smiled with satisfaction as he poured her another. This might be easier than he thought.

As he sipped his brandy, he reached out and let his hand glide through a length of her long, honey brown hair. Her body stiffened when his fingertips touched her neck, and he retracted his hand. Her stare remained still through the window panes, trying to find some sort of strength to remain calm. But Diana was new to New York; her first time in the States with no friends or family. She was alone. A young woman with a dream, but no backup plan, and no sponsor to help navigate her through this new world she had chosen to explore. This was something that Rosenbaum made sure to remind her of.

“This is not Croatia, honey,” he broke the silence. “And this is no ordinary bank.” He moved back to his chair and sat down, pulling towards himself the folder of documents she had presented earlier. “Your paperwork is good, but your reasons for this loan will not pass the test for any other bank.” She finally raised her eyes to his.

“Do you know that 47 percent of retail and clothing start-ups fail within the first year of opening their doors? Unless you have really famous friends or know a lot of important people, you’re going to need a lot of money if you want to be taken seriously.” He took a long drink and continued. “No one is investing in fashion anymore. The market is saturated with these new brands, but in the end they fail. Do you know why? Two reasons: e-commerce and sweat shops.” Diana had no idea what he was talking about. He nodded in understanding.

“I know, it’s hard to imagine that you can’t make it here in America-the land where dreams come true. But this is also the land where dreams are crushed. E-commerce is the way to go. Sell your fashions online, set up a great website, and save money on buildings, showrooms and rental space.” Diana listened intently, feeling that she may be able to salvage some kind of guidance. “No one has the time anymore to go to stores, outlets or malls just for clothes. People are ordering them online and that’s the trend.” He looked at one of her documents. “I see that you sell quality and original designs.”

“Yes, I design them myself,” she said quietly but with a small amount of pride. But he was shaking his head.

“It’s original, but no one cares here. Do you know why? Because of the second reason: sweatshops. Over 75 percent of successful fashion stores use Malaysian, Bangladesh, Columbian, Indian, or Chinese labor for their garments. They have tens of thousands of people all over the world, working for less than a dollar an hour, and they are imported back here to sell. Cheap, affordable clothing. Diana, unless you have connections with Versace, Christian Dior, or Armani-honey, you’re going nowhere.” She shook her head in defiance.

“No, I won’t import from China or any other Third World country.” Her determination was clear. Then he crushed it.

“Then you’re setting yourself up for failure! Honey, this is America! You need lots of money to make enough money just to break even. Then you need time to build your fortune; years. How are you going to pay the utilities, rent, insurance, taxes, the cost of such quality materials, import taxes, licensing fees, the workers, the returns, the maintenance, the medical coverage for your employees, the machines to make the clothes, the accountants, the lawyers, the advertising? I’m telling you Miss Noel, you. . .will. . .fail.”

She just looked at him on the verge of tears, her hands curled into fists, and her lips began to tremble. He casually took another drink, feeling his utter superiority over her. This was not the first time he served a large dish of reality to a first-time client. There had been hundreds. When she dropped her chin in defeat, he spoke again.

“Now, let me tell you what I can do for you. I’m a senior member of the SBA which is the Small Business Administration. The maximum 7-A loan the SBA can guarantee is $5 million. But you don’t need that much. As a startup, the average amount is between 300 and $350,000. You’ve requested just $200,000.” Diana nodded her head slowly as she wiped away her tears. “There is a fee of 3 percent for guaranteed loans up to $700,000. So, immediately, you owe the bank $6,000 to secure this loan. And if I sign this contract, you owe that today.”

Diana’s eyes widened in disbelief and despair. She barely had $12,000 in traveler’s checks on her for this trip. That money had to last for two weeks to search for locations for her new store, and once she found one, she had to put down money to secure it; then hire an interior decorator, pay for his materials, computers and furniture; hire a project manager to handle things when she went back to Croatia and clear her apartment before moving back to New York.

There were a hundred things she had to pay for without even mentioning her motel, food, and taxi rides. And now, she would have to give up half of that amount for one fee! She felt her dreams melting under his sharp gaze. She felt herself a fool to have considered this.

“Now, after the fee is paid, your loan is guaranteed up to five years at fixed rate of 4 percent. So, that’s $8,000 in interest you owe per year for five years, which comes out to $40,000. You pay quarterly, so you owe me $2,000 every four months.” The numbers were staggering for Diana. How could she sell enough merchandise just to pay the interest, much less everything else he mentioned? It was impossible. She could probably do it, and actually make huge sums of money by going the sweatshop route.

But if word got out to her homeland that children, mothers and grandmothers were working 15-hour days under the NOEL logo, she would be known as a soulless fraud, shaking hands with the corporate devil, and adopting the true American business model. Her six stores in Zagreb would close down in shame, her name would be dirt, and she’d be nowhere. She took a deep breath. She was not going to disgrace herself, her family, or her brand. She was Croatian, and she would not sell her soul. She shook her head quickly and looked up.

“No, Mr. Rosenbaum, I can’t pay that. It was a mistake to come here. A mistake to think I could start a business in America. You are right; I will fail. Thank you very-” She stopped when he raised up a palm. He finished his drink and poured himself another.

“Around New York, I’m known as the ‘Game Changer.’ Do you know what a game changer is, Miss Noel?” She shook her head. “A game changer is the person who delivers a miracle. When the game is on the line, when defeat is looking you in the face- like it’s looking at you right now-you call on me to give you that miracle.” He smirked with conceit and felt the satisfaction at the unseen power he wielded.

“I’m a very important man, Miss Noel. I help this state with money every day. I have shares and holdings worth no less than $300 million, and I can use those resources in any way I want. If the mayor needs money, he comes to me; when the governor needs something fixed, he comes to me; when another bank needs credits; it comes to me. Even the Mafia has come to me for help. Some people would call that dirty money, but I call it business.” He gulped his second drink down in one swallow.

“I’ve made many politicians happy with my contributions; I’ve paid off lobbyists and legislators to have the laws changed to favor my shareholders and my own needs; because Miss Noel, nothing is fair when it concerns one man’s money and another man’s greed. As long as someone controls the money, there will always be greed. It’s an unholy confluence.” Diana quickly recalled the night when Carlos, her English professor, taught the class the meaning of ‘confluence.’

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, Miss Noel, I can be your game changer, too. I can give you the $200,000 you requested, waive the $6,000 fee, and bring the interest rate down to a fixed 1 percent.” Diana’s eyes blinked at these new numbers as she calculated them in her head. “You would save tens of thousands of dollars.” He reclined back in his chair and waved his hand like it was a trivial thing. Her smile emerged again like the sun out of the fog, and she straightened her posture.

“Oh, Mr. Rosenbaum! Thank you! Thank you very-”

“Take off your clothes.” His face was now flushed with the effects of the alcohol. He reached up and loosened his tie, unbuttoning his top two buttons. “You want all this, you just have to give me your guarantee.” He got up and walked around his desk like a leopard, then moved behind her chair. She froze again not knowing why he was there.

“What guarantee?” she forced herself to ask in a shaky voice. Just then his hands reached around both sides of her shoulders and cupped her breasts. She exhaled in shock, but couldn’t move nor breathe as he gently squeezed and fondled them. “Ah yes, they’re beautiful,” he breathed. “So young, so full, the way I like them.” Tears began to slide down her cheeks and splash on his hands.

“Your guarantee is that after I’ve had you today, right over there on my couch, every week you’ll come back to me.” He spun her swivel chair around towards him and she drew in a sharp breath, shaking like a frightened girl. She watched in disbelief as he slowly unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. He held its length in his hand and jostled it proudly.

“I make all my startup girls as gorgeous as you submit to the guarantee; otherwise, I stop the deposits going into their accounts, and charge them 6 percent interest. None of them refuse; in fact, this morning I had two new entrepreneurs do me at the same time. Right over there on my couch. That’s why I had all the security cameras taken out of this office.”

He smiled lustily, waiting for her to either reach for it, or open her mouth. She stared away as she cried silently, once again seeing her dream being dismantled the longer she stayed there. She considered the offer he made and quickly remembered another word Carlos had taught them: conundrum. She was now facing a conundrum of the worst kind. As her sanity fought desperately against this reality, Rosenbaum moved forward.

“Go on, Diana,” he said breathing heavily, anticipating fucking her for hours. “Suck it. Suck me now. Let me fuck you, and be a rich, successful businesswomen for the rest of your life.” She slowly turned towards his waiting penis, now stiff and arched high. He lowered it with anticipation. She took a deep breath and began to part her lips as she quaked with shame. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Take me all in.” More tears flowed as she slowly opened her mouth, unable to fight the unfair and cruel reality of her personal ambition. She closed her eyes and opened wider. “Yes, Diana. That’s it, honey!” Then just as she was about to submit to him, the office phone speaker buzzed loudly. Her eyes snapped open, and her mouth snapped shut.

“Goddamnit! What is it, Jenny!” he yelled to the phone on his desk.

“Mr. Rosenbaum, your 4 o’clock appointment has just arrived, sir.”

“Shit! Who is that?”

“Miss Romana Powers, sir. She’s here to deliver the special package sent by the governor.”

“Tell her to just leave it!”

“She can’t, sir. It’s couriered, and you have to sign some forms for it.”

“Goddamn it, Jenny! Alright! I’ll be ready in a moment.” He turned back towards Diana, but she was gone. Wiping her eyes and practically running, she reached the door, and stopped when he called her name.

“Miss Noel, I will hold on to your paperwork. The deal is still good if you come back tomorrow at 2 o’clock.” She said nothing as she walked out. Outside the door, she couldn’t hold back her grief and her fear. She cried out loud as she headed straight for the elevator room well beyond Jenny’s reception desk. Jenny was talking to the woman who had arrived with a small box and document folder. They both watched as Diana passed them with her hands over both eyes, sobbing loudly.

“Poor girl,” said Jenny. “She was probably turned down for a loan.” The guest gave a warm smile to the secretary.

“Let me check. She looks very troubled. I’ll be right back.” She left to follow the distressed young woman. At the elevator room, Diana turned around and saw a composed, but genuinely concerned woman approaching her. She was about 40, with feathery, reddish brown hair and glasses. As a designer, Diana was able to study the clothing on the woman just a few paces away. It was second nature. She instantly recognized the brand of the woman’s glasses: Kazuo Kawasaki, the famous Japanese eyewear designer. She also had enough time to quickly notice the woman’s black Chanel pantsuit, Jimmy Choo high heels, and Prada handbag. The woman was obviously a person of the elite class, and she wore all the items very tastefully. Diana was trying to wipe the last tears from her eyes when the woman stepped up to her.

“Darling, did that man do something to you?” The question was so blunt, that Diana was almost offended by her candor. “You can tell me,” the woman said softly and gave an empathic smile. Diana didn’t know what to do. This woman’s face was so sincere in concern, her eyes showed trust, and when she took Diana’s arm softly in her hand, it was comforting. “My name is Romana. Romana Powers. Let’s have a seat, and you can tell me anything you wish.”

It didn’t take long before Diana explained the entire situation to the stranger, divulging all as tears began to stream down again. The woman held her hand like a close friend and didn’t say a word. She just nodded with understanding and sympathy. Finally, when there was no more left to tell, the woman checked her watch, a diamond-studded Cartier, and stood up.

“Diana, I want you to wait here for me. It will only be a few minutes. I just need to drop off my package and we can leave together.” Diana agreed and sat back in the chair, amazed at how comfortable and at ease she was with this woman. She felt perhaps she had just met her first contact in this new, cruel country; but maybe more importantly, she felt she had just made a friend.

Approximately seven minutes passed when Romana returned and handed Diana a document folder.

“What’s this?”

“All your documents have been signed by Mr. Rosenbaum. In fact, he increased the amount to one million dollars!” Diana’s eyes bulged, making Romana smile with satisfaction.

“WHAT!? Are you joking!?” Romana pointed to the folder.

“It’s all in there. All signed and stamped with his official seal. No matter what happens, the bank must give you the money. The dates and account information are in there. He assured me that the full amount should be in your bank account tomorrow if you open one up today.” Romana’s smile was pure and warm. “And to assure you that there’s no hard feelings between you two, he told me to give you this.” Romana took out an envelope from her bag. The envelope was heavy and thick.

“What’s this?”

“It’s $50,000 in cash,” Romana answered with a grin. “It’s an apology gift, and he said you don’t have to pay it back. Isn’t that great? If I were you, I’d open an account downstairs and deposit at least half of this.” Her smile lit Diana’s heart like a match to dry tinder. She shook her head and stood speechless.

“I should go back and thank him!” But Romana grabbed her arm gently, and stopped her.

“Oh, no, dear. He’s very busy right now. It’s amazing how much work he does, and he can do it all while drinking brandy!” She giggled, and Diana laughed.

“Now, when you get to your hotel, I want you to make sure all your documents are in order and make copies of them. When you come back to this bank tomorrow, go to the first floor. Sign for a safe deposit box, and put the originals in it so they can’t be ruined or lost. Next to the bank is a Notary Public. Have the copies made official, and then do your business with the other firms you need.” Romana dropped her smile. “But whatever you do, don’t come back up here. Don’t come to this floor, don’t talk to Jenny, and don’t try to see Mr. Rosenbaum.” Diana thought that it was an odd statement. “Mr. Rosenbaum will be out of the office as of today,” Romana continued, returning her smile. “He’s a very busy man.”

“So, you know him?” Romana nodded, her eyes barely closing.

“Yes. I know him very well. That’s why I was able to secure this for you. He, shall I say, owed me a favor.” Diana grabbed hold of the woman and embraced her fiercely.

“I can’t believe this is happening!” Diana couldn’t hold back her tears then, but this time they were tears of newfound jubilation. “I don’t know how to thank you, Romana! I don’t know what to say!” The woman rocked the young woman in her arms.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, my dear. Now, let’s leave, shall we?” They stepped into the elevator together. As the doors closed, Romana got on her smart phone. “This will only take a second.” She handed Diana a business card. “If you need anything while you’re in New York, anything at all, you can call me at this number.” Romana kept her smile as her call was answered.

“Temujin, this is Venus. The Piper’s been paid.” Diana didn’t look, but thought about the oddness of the statement. Venus?

“Understood. Good-bye.” She replaced her phone in her bag and looked at Diana again. “Sorry about that. So much business, so little time!” Diana dismissed the phone call completely, wanting to express her gratitude.

“How about joining me for dinner tonight, Romana?” Diana asked gleefully. “My treat, any restaurant you like!” Romana smiled appreciatively.

“Honey, I’d love to! I really would, but I have a few other personal appointments tonight that I just can’t cancel. Maybe some other time.”

“Well, then here’s my card,” Diana offered. “And my cell number. I’ll be here for two weeks, but then I’ll return after awhile to live and start the business.”

“It would be my honor to come to your opening day!” Romana announced. When the elevator reached the ground floor lobby, the two hugged once more before going their separate ways. Diana watched the woman walk out of the massive glass front doors of the bank, still smiling at the events that had just transpired.

She took a number for the next available bank associate under the NEW ACCOUNTS area, then took a seat in the plush waiting room lounge. She opened the folder and scanned the documents. They were all signed and stamped. She shook her head unable to believe the change of luck she had with the meeting of that woman. She figured by the way she was dressed that she was a corporate big shot. She wondered what it would be like to have so much power and influence.

Confident and excited, she put the envelop of cash into her bag. While securing the folder of documents, the business card Romana had given her fell on the carpeted floor. She picked it up and examined it for the first time in detail. It was simple. There was the name: ROMANA ‘VENUS’ POWERS at the top with her mobile number. There was no office address, email address, or occupation. In the center of the card in a larger font was her company: PIPER’S, Inc. And beneath that was a short statement:

“In the end, we all must pay the Piper.”

She grinned as she considered the clever correlation of the company name with the company slogan. Carlos had told the class of the fairy tale and legend of the Pied Piper, and thanked God she had been in his class. But what did she say in her short phone call? ‘The Piper’s been paid?’ And who is Temujin? Why did she call herself Venus? It didn’t matter. She’d just met the woman, after all. Everyone has his or her own world.

She finally arrived at her motel room a little after 6 P.M. She had taken a nice walk through the town just to enjoy the fresh air and the fresh possibilities she now had. What a game changer Romana turned out to be! She smiled the whole way home thinking of the innocent yet powerful way this woman had entered her life. The way she was dressed showed that she must have been a very important, respected and wealthy woman. But her smile, her warmth and her empathy proved that some people can be kind souls despite their wealth.

She dropped the documents, her bag, keys and a bottle of water on the table after entering the motel room. Like second nature, she took the remote control and turned on the TV as she stripped off her clothes and turned on the water in the bathtub. As the water warmed, she poured in various beauty oils and salts that she had brought along. She came out of the bathroom and stopped. She took the remote and turned up the volume when she saw something strangely familiar on the TV. A newscaster was standing in front of the very bank she had done business with.

“And now back to our breaking story. Sheldon Rosenbaum, the director of operations and loans at Trust National Bank in Rochester, was found dead in his office late this afternoon.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Police stated that a 9-1-1 call was placed by Rosenbaum’s secretary Jenny Price, sometime after 5:30 P.M. after he wouldn’t answer his office phone. Price stated that when she entered his office, Rosenbaum was lying face down on his desk. Thinking he was taking a nap, Price tried to wake him, but after several attempts she realized he wasn’t breathing, and called for emergency services.

“He was pronounced dead at the scene. As of this hour, no official word on the cause of death has been confirmed by the county coroner. But EMT responders said that there was an empty bottle of brandy next to Rosenbaum when he was found. There is speculation that he had suffered from what is called Alcoholic Cardiomyopathy, a type of heart attack that occurs when large amounts of alcohol hit the blood stream and then the heart at a very fast rate. People who binge drink suffer from this condition.”

“Empty? That bottle was full when he poured me a drink!” Diana couldn’t believe that he just chugged it all when she and Romana left the building. “How could he do that? That bottle was huge!”

“Over the last decade, Rosenbaum had been accused of racketeering, corruption, coercion, money laundering and extortion, but prosecutors were never able to prove the facts nor bring his cases to court. Many felt he paid off judges, grand jury members, lawyers and politicians to protect himself. Last fall, he was heard boasting at a fundraiser that he was “the true untouchable” in New York. Sheldon Rosenbaum is dead today at 56. We will bring you more of this breaking story when details become available. Please stay with us, we’ll be back after this short break.”

Diana clicked off the TV. Still stunned, she returned to the bathroom where she slid herself under the warm, foamy water. As the thick, relaxing fragrance of massage oils and soothing salts began to waft in the air, she contemplated on Sheldon Rosenbaum for awhile, replaying in her mind the ghastly scenes of him threatening her, blackmailing her, and coercing her to have sex. Then she thought of the crimes he had allegedly committed in the past.

Serves him right, she thought darkly. He will no longer victimize women. But her thoughts soon turned to that mysterious woman who helped her. Refreshing thoughts like the first rays of the sun on morning dew. She thanked the heavens for her. Romana Powers, employee of PIPER’S, Inc. . .the woman who, for all intents and purposes, saved her life.