XV - THE DEVIL
During the last week of December the world was waiting for 2008 to begin while I retreated into the virtual world. I found myself chatting more and more with a doctor about my age named Marina, from Kamchatka in the Russian Far East. She became a solace and a friend as I gradually turned inward and away from New York City. The Kamchatka peninsula juts down into the Bearing Sea like a giant salmon and I liked to imagine her there in such a cold and desolate place.
While I was chatting with Marina I got an invitation from Larissa my counselor to add her as a friend on Skype and her profile picture didn’t disappoint- she was sitting in a chair with black boots and a very short leather skirt. The picture seemed a bit over the top but I chalked it up to the Russian (in this case Ukrainian) proclivity to emphasize the most desirable. Once I accepted her invitation she wasn’t online any longer and I became giddy looking at her profile and hoping she would log back in.
Since the dinner with Misha I’d begun to drink again but in a controlled way that didn’t give me too much guilt. I was staying out of bars for the most part and sticking to my regime of reading and writing but seeing Larissa’s profile picture sent me to the kitchen to fix a drink. I had little reason to leave the house as Karina had distanced herself somewhat and I found myself in a strange virtual world.
I was fiddling at the computer late that night drinking and staring at Larissa’s boots in her Skype profile when I finally got a message from her. “Hi! Nice to see you here.” It was like an invitation to the forbidden. I hadn’t seen her in about a month as she was on vacation in California with family. After the initial pleasantries about Christmas I sent her a message regarding her picture. “You look great in leather!” She was a slow typist and I waited nervously for the response. “I’m glad you like it.”
I continued on the same track, “I’d love to see more pictures, if you have some.” I waited for a brush off or change of topic but instead I got a message showing that she was sending me a file through Skype. I clicked on it and waited for it to load and as it did she sent me two more. I became very anxious waiting for them to open. She was sitting on a couch with black pumps and a short skirt. It was taken from below and she was looking down at the camera. The second one was similar and in the third she was sitting on top of a table with her legs crossed, wearing a provocative smile.
“Wow.” I wrote her. “You look fantastic! You have a wonderful body.” She responded with a smiley face showing shock. Then wrote “Thanks, your sweet.” She told me she would be back in New York after New Year’s and we said goodbye. From that conversation forward I couldn’t stop thinking about her to the point where it became a minor obsession and even though I feared our friendship could be lost, the morbidity was too enticing not to pursue.
The next day Chip and Scot from Vector called to invite me to a steak place for lunch and they told me there was news. They seemed in good spirits but I wasn’t enthusiastic about starting any new ventures with them as I knew I would be saddled with all the work while they did the cheering and collecting. “So what’s up guys? Why all the smiles?” I asked.
“Arthur.” Chip began, “We have fantastic news. Seth and David are ready to take you on as a consultant.”
“Very nice. What changed their minds?” I already knew that it was Chip and Scot’s lack of success- lots of wild ideas and few if any new funded accounts.
“They’re ready buddy.” Scot began. “We’ve brought in a new investor, our old and dear friends from Right Trade.” Right Trade was the trading education company that all three of us had worked for in California, “You understand Right Trade and how to funnel accounts from their activities and databases as well as from outside sources. It’s the perfect fit. We did it; we have the perfect storm for the perfect team.” The whole thing left me stale but I tried to put on the best face possible and raised my glass for a toast- I wanted to keep all my cards on the table. “We’ll start you out as a consultant that way you don’t have to leave your other clients and we can work out some arrangements so we can all benefit from your work.” That sounded more like what had them smiling. We had worked on some ideas on how to create funded accounts and sell them to Vector and it was clear that was where they were taking things.
“Sure” I began, “That could be very interesting. Remember, I have some databases of my own and I could probably create some accounts for you guys. How much can you pay per funded account?”
I could see Chip was ready to pitch me something. “I have a better idea. I can give you some databases we have access to. Very good data. You can generate the leads for us and we can split it three ways. Vector pays $500 per funded account.”
“That’s not so interesting for me as I have to do all the work but I’m giving you guys two thirds of the money. That’s about $160 an account for me, not enough.”
“How much do you need to make it interesting?” Scot asked.
“At least $250 for me per account; what you guys do with the rest is your business. Once I start with the consulting work we can try it out.” The conversation went back and forth and we finally decided that I would test out their data and see how it performed. They handed me a flash card with a few databases and we parted ways.
A few weeks later I was chatting with Marina from Kamchatka and she told me it was thirty degrees below zero but in spite of the cold she had gone cross country skiing with her dog. While we were chatting I saw Larissa’s Skype avatar go green. It was the first time I’d seen her online since she had sent me the pictures and I quickly said hello and tried to keep things light. We started talking about food and I asked her when she was going to come over and try my stuffed artichokes and she immediately responded ‘When you invite me.’
I offered that Thursday and she answered without hesitation. “Sure, I’m free from seven to ten.” I sent her the address and we said goodbye. I hadn’t been so excited since my time with Irina. That Wednesday I had the cleaning lady come and on Thursday morning I did the shopping and spent all afternoon cooking. By the time I got the call that she was downstairs I was almost shaking with excitement. Just as I heard the knock I was reminded of Misha’s words about not eroticizing the feminine, but the moment was too charged to resist.
I opened the door and she stood smiling wrapped in a fur coat and hat and holding a bottle of wine. She had on black pumps, black stockings, a knee length black skirt and light blue blouse. She walked to the stool at the bar in the kitchen and sat down and crossed her legs while I served us red wine. Then we sat at the table and began with the artichokes stuffed with breadcrumbs and spices and I delightfully observed her sucking on the leaves and licking her lips. We both drank liberally and finally I just said it. “God, you turn me on so much.”
She smiled and continued eating for a few moments until she turned and looked at me. “You also look very good tonight.” Then she put down her fork, stood up and walked toward the bedroom and I followed her and that was the end of a pleasant friendship.
She had a rent control apartment downtown near the Bowery that was empty and it became our normal meeting place which she prefered over meeting at my apartment. We never went out. After a short trip to Atlanta to meet with Harry Scott I called her to let her know I was back in New York and she told me to go immediately to her place downtown and wait for her in the lobby. Our interesting conversations vanished and I stopped going to her office; everything became sex and control. As the months past I started losing interest but I didn’t have the nerve to just cut her off. She seemed to get a thrill out being in command and organizing my life: when I should work, what I should eat, how much I could drink.
Things with Vector began to drag because they kept insisting that I sign a contract with a non-compete clause and I kept putting it off because it would have meant the end of the Harry Scott account which was my main source of income. I was trying to generate some accounts for Vector but with no
success and I realized that Vector wasn’t going to fly. Then Scot and Chip called another meeting to see if we could iron things out and we met at the same steak place but their demeanor was different. Scot took the lead, “Look, Arthur, we have been dancing around this topic now for almost six months and we can’t work without a contract so you’re going to have to leave Harry Scott; it’s decision time buddy. And as far as generating affiliates, we’ve gotten zero which isn’t a good sign. What’s going on with the database we gave you?”
“I gave it to a guy I work with who sent out a few email drops for Vector but nothing converted. The database is either not what you think it is or Vector just doesn’t convert.”
“What do you mean?” Chip asked, a bit edgy.
“Well, we got a good delivery rate because we added them to a white listed email list which means that people got the emails in their inboxes, not so easy nowadays. He sent them the Vector offer which they opened but they didn’t sign up for any accounts. The click through rate was really low so it seems like there isn’t much affinity between the database and Vector. He said they did much better on an education drop, one of these online colleges.”
Scot jumped in. “So he’s making money off them sending other things?”
“Sure, I told him he could play around with it and see what he got.”
Again, Scot. “How much is he going to pay us for those leads?”
“He and I work fifty/fifty when I give him the data, so I’ll do the same with you guys, give you half of what I get. Does that seem reasonable?”
Chip’s face was not happy. “No, Scot and I should be getting half of everything, not half of what you get. You’re giving him way too much. What the hell are you doing?”
“Hey, hey, hold on there pal. He’s paying for the email servers and for white listing the email database; that’s money. He manages the drops, takes out the dupes, removes the opt-outs, and the offers are mostly his. There’s no way I’m telling him he’s getting one quarter; he’s practically doing everything. You guys hand me a horrible data base, sit on your asses and expect to get 50% of the money?”
Now Scot looked at me very seriously. “That’s what we agreed on, all this other stuff, it’s not my problem.” By that time I didn’t want anything more to do with them.
I leaned back. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you back your list and send you the money when we get it. I mean, we’re talking about a few hundred bucks here and this list is nothing, one-hundred thousand emails. But you will get half, my half; I won’t take anything, but no more business between us. I’m done with you guys.”
Chip was now getting angry. “Hey, we saw one of those emails that went out. We saw one to Harry Scott’s offers. What about those?”
“Sure, this guy works my offers and it makes sense he would test them on that list. So what, you’ll get paid on that too. You’ll get your fifty-percent.”
I was starting to feel like a thief when I had done nothing wrong. Scot was shaking his head “Hey, we’re not stupid, we know that list brokers give folks seventy-five percent of the revenue they generate off a list and you’re only giving us half. That’s not right.”
“Ah, now I’m your list broker? What list broker is going to give you 75% on a stolen list? Who’d you steal it from? I’ll delete the data and we’re done. I don’t need this kind of stuff.” I got up and walked out into a hot in July day which intensified all the smells of the street. I was angry at myself for having got involved with those guys again after it was clear nothing good would come of them. My phone rang and I thought it would be them but it was Karina who was crying and begging me to come see her.
I hadn’t been to her place in at least a month and when I got to her apartment she was curled up in her white armchair and crying. I had never seen them so distraught and Galya looked gaunt and kept silent. Karina, in tears screamed out, “Arthur, we have a big problem! We got busted two days ago.”
“What happened?”
“Galya and I were at the bar of a hotel and they got us on prostitution. Three guys wearing suits were buying us drinks and they asked, ‘How much for a party?’ I was drunk and said three thousand and they immediately put the cuffs on us and took us to jail. This was yesterday; they let us out this afternoon.”
Galya looked at me as if she were going to be sick. “You knew, right? I mean, you knew what we did?” She asked.
“I suppose I had an idea. You guys look terrible. I’m really sorry; is there anything I can do?” I was afraid to ask but I had no choice.
Karina looked at me intensely. “We’re broke; we’d been partying a lot and then, well, we tried to make some money and all we had left has gone to get us out of jail. And Galya needs to score soon or she will get sick and I need some too but we’re afraid to meet the Devil because if we get busted again it could be really serious. They would put us away for a year maybe. I can’t do that. I would die and so would Galya.” I just looked down and shook my head. I knew it was going to be very dodgy. “Can you go down and pick it up for us?”
“Did you tell him you got arrested?”
Karina became very agitated. “Of course not! He would never come around; he would think we were ratting on him to get out of trouble. Please, Arthur.”
“Okay, I’ll do it. Just look me in the eyes and promise me you are not setting me up.”
“After everything I did for you; you ask me that?” Karina was almost screaming.
“I’m sorry, really. I just wanted to make sure. I’ll do it, don’t worry. I’m just a little nervous. Have you called him yet?”
“No.”
“Okay, let me go get some money, I suppose you gals need some cash? Let me give you five hundred, okay?” Galya came and hugged me and Karina just cried and said thank you. I came back with money, cigarettes, booze and some flowers to cheer them up. I told Karina to order four bags for me and that I would pay for it all. I made us all some drinks and Karina called the Devil and explained that she couldn’t come down, that she had twisted her ankle and her boyfriend would come. They discussed who I was for a few moments and then she hung up. I was to meet him at the corner 28th and 1st Ave. It was the first time I had ever bought smack and I wasn’t sure how the exchange should go. She told me to tip him a twenty since we didn’t buy as much as others and to wave at his blue Camry like he was a friend picking me up. She made me take off my button down shirt and put on a Red Strip tee-shirt.
Waiting on the corner for the blue Camry I kept thinking what I would do if I got busted. Maybe they were double-crossing me; it hadn’t been a good day so far. And then out of the blue I had a very peculiar epiphany. I saw a stunningly beautiful girl in her early twenties dressed elegantly walking toward me and I realized what I had been searching for in women all my life. It wasn’t love, sex, status or company; it was something more akin to my own soul. I looked at the girl’s balanced face and the wonderful harmony of her body and I understood that she was a reflection of what I wanted and what pulled me toward her was something far beyond her flesh or personality. It all seemed to make sense in a flash and I realized what a mistake I had made with Larissa. I had taken an interesting relationship where we both were seeking something profound in the other and turned it into sex. Just as it all became clear I saw the blue Camry coming slowly across 28th Street and I waived and got into the passenger’s seat and he drove off. He was a big Dominican around my age with very dark skin and wearing a Led Zeppelin tank top. Latino music was playing and I couldn’t help but stare at the serpent tattoos around his massive arms and thick neck.
“How long you known Karina?” He asked.
“About six months.”
“What’s her mother’s name?”
“Tatiana.”
“How many brothers and sisters does she have?”
“Just one sister.” And I gave the name.
“Okay.” He handed me the bags and I gave
him the money.
Then I asked him. “Would it be okay if I called you too? I live up the street from Karina.”
“Sure man. What’s your name again?”
“Arthur.”
He stopped near her building and I got out and brought everything back to Karina’s place. They had gone to the store and were already cooking when I got back. When they saw me they both jumped up and down ecstatically, “Arthur, we love you so much.” Karina purred as she hugged me. Galya headed quickly to the bathroom with a bag while Karina kept cooking and smiling, her legal worries quickly fading into her anticipation. I began drinking while she went straight into the powder. When Galya came back Karina hurried toward the bathroom to throw up as she often did after doing lines.
Galya sat next to me and rubbed my leg. “We can have a wild party if you want, just the three of us.” I smiled and let it slide.
“You go to see Larissa sometimes too, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yes, she’s a sweetheart. She’s helped me a lot and now that I’m studying at the Psychoanalytic Institute her therapy has given me a real model; she has so much empathy.” It was hard not to chuckle as I remembered Larissa, whip in hand.
“Yes, she’s helped us all a lot I think.” I added as Galya was slowly fading into her stupor but Karina was still talkative.
“Arthur, what are we going to do? We can’t work now, at least for a while because if I get caught shoplifting or, well, doing other stuff, it could be very serious the next time. We were so stupid. I should have seen they were cops. I have to pay this mortgage. Why did I take a mortgage?”
“What’s your payment a month?”
“They gave me $600,000 and I put nothing down, so the payment is about three thousand, plus maintenance. I’m doing the interest only payments. God, this is crazy.”
“What did you show as income?”
“An old boyfriend gave me a W-2 for thirty grand a year.” She was the poster child for the mortgage debacle. “I called my mortgage broker though, and he thinks he can get me a second mortgage. I can pay my credit cards off and put some money away.”
“Maybe a good idea.” I knew she would be okay and so did she but I let her vent. Her family would help her just as she had helped them; nobody was ever going to foreclose on her. It was around midnight and the phone rang- it was Chip and Scot, both a bit plastered, asking me to meet them at some place downtown. It gave me a reason to leave the damsels and I thought it might be a good idea to smooth things over with the boys.
The bar was noisy and Chip was being loud and obnoxious. He gave me a slap on the back. “Come on, let’s talk this over. Let’s not let money fuck up a friendship. Grab a drink and let’s go to the patio in the back.” Scot was more sober and somber. There was something they were hiding but I couldn’t figure out what they were up to.
Scot began. “We feel like you’ve taken our database and are running around making money off it and telling us that it isn’t working. We’re seeded on it; we see all the ads coming in. We just we want our share.”
“I told you; you’ll get 50%. What more do you want? Where did you get the data?”
Scot continued, “That’s not your problem; it’s very good data and we know that it’s generating thousands of dollars a month for Harry Scott and that you’re not being clean with us. And another thing, we never told you to use it for all sorts of ads. We thought you would be careful. You haven’t and now lots of folks know what you’re doing and it could get serious.”
“You better tell me where the data is from, now. You guys are getting exactly what you wanted, half the revenue. I’m giving up my share, what the more do you want from me?” Then it hit me. They had stolen the data from Right Trade and now someone from Right Trade was on to them and they were going to throw me under the bus.
Chip jumped in, “Just stop sending emails to the database, destroy it, and make sure we get our money.”
I looked at them and I could see all the machinations. “Where did you get the data; I need to know.” I insisted.
Scot responded, “Not important, like I said, stop spamming the list.” I shook my head. “How much are you really making off it?” I didn’t really know how much we were getting from it but from the open rates and click rates I was pretty sure my email guy was not pulling one over on me and if he was, it couldn’t have been for much.
“Like I told you, we’re talking about hundreds of dollars, not thousands. If you want to see the reports, I can show them to you. You guys have no idea what you’re talking about and you should have told me you stole the list from someone. I could have checked the emails and erased ones that were possible seeds. Anyway, it’s very hard to nail someone for this kind of stuff. I’ll send you your check.”
“No checks, we want cash.”
“You should have told me that before.”
“No checks.” At that point I turned and left and as I walked back to my apartment in the night I heard the music from the bars and clubs and watched people walking down 3rd Ave and I wanted nothing to do with it; I was sure there was more than what New York offered me.
The summer dragged on and when Labor Day appeared I remembered how hard it had been the year before. My article on the monetary system finally appeared in the fall of 2008 and got published in one of the biggest alternative media sites and was reposted on hundreds of websites. It was by far my most successful piece of writing and suddenly I had a bit of notoriety. I was enjoying the emails from people, some of whom where prominent.
I sat in the late night silence at my dining room table answering emails from strangers and chatting with Marina from Kamchatka while the taxis below skirted down 2nd Ave. Marina seemed so far away as we talked about what we wanted to do with the rest of our lives. She was kind, bright and remarkably intuitive. “What are you thinking about?” She asked.
I looked down at all the glittering desire on the streets of New York and it began to repulse me; repulse me enough to call the Devil.