Chapter 39

There are heart attacks that leave certain people mental cripples the rest of their lives, and there are attacks that seem to create a sort of rebirth, charging the lucky ones with renewed vigor and determination to live life to its fullest.  Harrison thought himself a lucky man, even though he was to return to work on the very day final proofing of the cover that could make or break his magazine was to be everyone’s focus.  As his driver cruised through Central park, an occasional hearty runner dotted the winding road from the east 90’s to Central Park South.  Harrison peered out the window at the bare trees.  The subzero temperatures of the night before had left the branches frosted, crafting an intricate web-like containment of the skyline.  Harrison loved this view, especially in the winter, and on days like this, he would always ask his driver to take the long way to the office so that he could revisit the images that had captured his imagination as a young boy. 

As the driver picked up speed and the tree limbs began blurring into one another, he remembered how at an early age his mother had encouraged him to make drawings on his favorite images and how the trees and the sky had always represented a certain kind of peace... and escape.  As the car reached the exit onto Central Park South, it was the “escape” part of his memory that he wished he could wrap himself in today.  His cell phone rang, yanking him out of his reverie.  “Yes,” he said.

“Just checking your ETA, Mr. Harrison,” his secretary whispered in the seductive voice that thrilled his business contacts but bored him. 

“I’m…” he checked his watch, “I’m on schedule.  Be there around 10:15.”

“Sorry to bother you, but Mr. Hurito’s assistant called asking if you still wanted the meeting pushed up to 11 AM, and…”

“Tell that little fagot if I didn’t want the meeting at 11, I’d have called him.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll tell him,” she said.

“Don’t you dare.  Just tell Fernando that Mr. Harrison will see Mr. Hurito at 11 as planned.”  Harrison slammed the receiver down.  His eyes caught his driver’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.  Harrison smiled innocently.  I’m not upset, Lewis.  I’m just fine.  No need to remember this, Okay?”

Lewis nodded and smiled back.  “I don’t like hospitals any more than you.  My lips are sealed.”

“As always, Lewis.  You’re a good man.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harrison.  It’s 10:00, Sir.   Your …”

“Oh, yes, thank you,” said Harrison, his hand slipping into his coat and extracting a tiny bottle.  “Modern medicine, Lewis.  Five days in the hospital and a teeny tiny pill takes its place.”

“Ah, but hardly a substitute for the added camaraderie of a “Nurse Ratchet,” quipped Lewis, his lips curving broadly with the English cynicism that had kept Harrison humored for years.

“If you think that much of her, Lewis, I could fix you up.”

“Now, that would surely make her day, I’m sure.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Lewis.  Her biggest problem is probably not having a few one-night stands in her life.”      

As the car pulled up in front of the publishing headquarters, Harrison paused.  “Lewis?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harrison took a business card out of his wallet and wrote a short note on the back.  ‘Now, I want you to know I’ve always appreciated you, Lewis.  You should never think I haven’t.”

Lewis glanced seriously into the rear-view mirror.  “Of course, Sir.  Never been any other way.”

“Well, just in case someone might challenge my appreciation after today, here’s a Christmas thank you.”  He reached across the seat and handed the card to Lewis.  “We can get on with it now.”

Lewis took the card and slipped it into his lapel pocket, jumped out of the car and opened the back door.  Harrison stepped out, took a deep breath, and smiled.  “Damn, I like this time of year.  Smell of Christmas pine almost overpowers the stench from the subways.” 

Harrison walked the short distance to the entrance and disappeared into the building.  Lewis closed the door and climbed back into the car.  His face continued to register a perplexing reaction to Harrison’s behavior.  He reached inside his lapel pocket and read the card.  “Mildred – Lewis is to be given a Christmas bonus of four First Class tickets to Orlando and a suite aboard the Disney Wonder for him and his family… the 7 day cruise… Harrison.”  Lewis looked up from the card and glanced back at the building entrance.  “You some kind of boss, boss,” he muttered to himself.

***

Harrison glanced at his watch.  Eleven, straight up.  The conference room table was exactly as Hurito liked it.  Antique tea set; tea at precisely the right temperature as Martin knew so well from the five years he had arrived three minutes before any scheduled meetings in the conference room and placed the lacquered tray of cups and server down before the three sharpened pencils and gray—no other color would do—legal pad Hurito always insisted on having at the head of the table.

The phone rang, a customary ritual announcing that Hurito was on his way in.  “Yes,” said Harrison, “He’s on his way in?”

“No,” came the voice of the receptionist.  “A call from Aristotle.”

“What?” Harrison answered.  “Why the hell is he calling?”

“Sir, I don’t know, but he wants to talk to you.”

“Well, tell him it will have to wait.  I’m expecting Hurito any second.”

“I already told him that, Sir.  He said you’d definitely want to talk to him before you met with Hurito.”

Harrison paused just long enough to say, “Fuck him.  He’s resigned.”

“Sir… I don’t think so.”

“What?” said Harrison.

“I mean, he said he had the picture to end all pictures and that you would want to talk to him.”

“Shit… that little prick has already stuck it to me, and now he wants to stick me again?”

“Sir, your appointment hasn’t arrived yet,” the receptionist said respectfully.

Harrison stood up and glared out the window at the low ceiling clouds that now engulfed the taller spires of Manhattan’s midtown.  “And Ari said a picture to… oh, put the little bastard on.”

The receptionist clicked back onto Ari’s incoming call and whispered,  “Wow… Ari… you sure you want to talk to him?  He’s not a happy camper.”

“Put me through, Rose,” came Ari’s reply.

Rose patched him through a moment before the elevator door opened and Hurito emerged.

Ari wasted no time as Rose had warned him that Harrison was waiting for the big meeting with Hurito.  “Harrison, don’t say a word… just listen.  Your e-mail.  Pull it up.  My tiff attachment is printable.  Junk the other picture you were going to use and put this on your cover.”

“What the fuck… you lost your mind completely?  We’re ready for the newsstands tomorrow morning.  There’s a printing of 50,000 copies being loaded on trucks now.”

“Pull up your e-mail,” came Ari’s reply.  “You think I fucked you, I know, but this should put us right again.  It took a hell of a lot of doing to get her to give permission, but all you have to do is print it… as is.  No air-brush, not manipulation, just print it, and, oh, there’s accompanying copy I hammered out that I know Kenny can polish in a heartbeat.  You can run the presses tonight and still make your delivery.  Tell Hurito it’s already done, or he’ll think you’re out of your mind and fire you before you can give the order to print.  You there, Harrison?”

Harrison had listened with rapt attention as he pulled his e-mail up on the big-screen computer that was usually reserved for presentations.  There it was… the picture of Samantha and her adopted Mexican family.  He punched up the copy whose headline read, SAMANTHA TAKES SERIOUS HIATUS TO RAISE SIX KIDS.  “Yeah… I’m here you crazy son of a bitch…”  Suddenly, the door to the conference room opened and in stepped Hurito.

“Sorry, I’m three minutes late, but that elevator stopped at every floor.  Ought to get an express version if your issue is as spectacular as you say,” said Hurito with all the oratorical command he was famous for.  He glanced at the screen where Harrison’s eyes were fixed.  He glanced back at Harrison whose expression was wide eyed and stunned.  “What may I ask is that?” asked Hurito.

Harrison paused only a moment.  He was, after all, the most experienced publisher of rag material in the business and it only took him a moment or two to make decisions where his instinct was called upon.  “Hurito, you going to need some extra tea for this one, and then you can fire me if you think this won’t be the biggest issue in Profile’s history.”

Hurito looked at the screen again, stepped closer and squinted.  Harrison switched the screen to the copy head line.  Hurito turned back to him.  “Biggest issue in Profile’s history?

“Biggest,” replied Harrison, picking up a cup and pouring himself some tea.

Hurito sat down and stared.  “You had me come here to announce a cover and story that was going to boost our readership by 50% and you show me a snapshot of Samantha Turner and six Mexican kids?”

“Fifty thousand print order, with the presses running another 100 later tonight.  Yes.  Care for some tea?”

“Before or after I fire you?”