Free Fifth Ave 01 - Fifth Avenue by Christopher Smith Page A

head from the pillow and kissed him awkwardly on the chin.   “You smell good,” she said, and turned onto her side.   “Don’t forget to stretch.”
    He went to the elevator at the end of the long hallway.   The apartment was quiet. Besides Isabel, the family cat, who was washing herself on top of an ormolu table, he was the only one up, which was not surprising considering it was just a little past five.
    He stepped into the elevator and pressed a button.   As the floors sped by, George wondered again how the meeting with RRK would go.   If they decided not to back him, he would have to move fast on Ted Frostman at Chase.   He had come too far to miss this deal with WestTex.
    The elevator slowed to a stop.   The doors slid open and George stepped out, pleased to see the lobby nearly back in order.   The cleaning crew had arrived not long after the party ended and they had worked throughout the night.
    George left the building, checked the time on his watch, dutifully stretched his legs and started uptown.   Soon he was running along the nearly barren paths of Central Park, and musing at how far he had come since graduating from Harvard.
    When he graduated in 1977 and moved to Manhattan, it seemed everything he tried failed.   Banks were reluctant to trust a newcomer and so they ignored his requests for loans.   Instead, they chose to finance the established developer over the rookie.   George knew he could go back and work for his father, but that would mean giving up on his dreams.   And so he pressed on, determined to find success.
    It didn’t come.   It seemed the harder George tried, the more often he failed.   It wasn’t until the fall of 1977 that things began to look up.
    Louis Ryan, an old college friend, called and told him about Pine Gardens, a 1,000-unit apartment complex that recently had been foreclosed on. Would George be interested in going into a partnership?
    George’s first mistake was saying that he would.   His second was sealing the deal with a handshake.   What began as the beginning of his dream, ended with years of fighting Louis Ryan in court--only to lose.   Miserably.
    He finished his run in just under twenty-four minutes.   Winded, he leaned against the trunk of an elm and stretched his legs before leaving the park.   The city was coming to life.   Cars were shooting down Fifth, rich widows and hip divorcees were walking their well-groomed dogs on retractable leashes and the sun, visible now, gilded the cluster of limestone buildings surrounding Central Park, turning their beige facades to gold.
    He bought the Times from a newspaper-vending machine, tucked it beneath his arm without looking at the headline and started down the avenue toward his building, which towered above its neighbors.
    Just looking at it filled George with pride.   The new Redman International Building was as extravagant in design as its predecessor on Madison Avenue had been conventional.   Instead of having four straight sides, the new building sloped gently upward, narrowing from its base to its roof, producing a rather uneasy effect of a hill carved from glass and stone.   It trumped everything on Fifth Avenue--especially Louis Ryan’s Manhattan Enterprises Building, which was two blocks south.
    Before entering Redman International, George stopped and looked at Ryan’s building.   Despite the years that had passed, anger still seized him when he saw it.   To this day, he could remember Ryan telling the court that there had never been a partnership between him and George. To this day, George could remember Ryan standing up and calling him a liar for saying so.
     
     
    *   *   *
     
     
    While waiting for Michael to arrive for their eight o’clock appointment, Louis Ryan stood high above Fifth Avenue in his corner office, his hands clasped behind him as he looked out a wall of windows and took inventory of his empire.
    From where he stood, he could see the many hotels, condominium and