Free Old Flame by Ira Berkowitz

understand. Why you? What qualified you to be the marketing director?”
    Danny sprang from the bench and turned to me. “I don’t need this shit, Steeg.”
    “Actually, I was thinking the same thing,” I said.
    Danny sat down, albeit reluctantly. “It was marketing and sales, and I had contacts,” he said.
    Kenny pressed him. “With who?”
    “The odd-lot guys. You know, companies who handle distressed merchandise.”
    “More bullshit,” Kenny said. “They already have plenty of outlets to move their goods. They don’t need you.” He turned to me. “We’re wasting our time here, Steeg.”
    Apparently we were, and it was on me for letting friendship blind me to Danny’s line of patter. “Here’s the deal, Danny,” I said. “Either you stop the bullshit, or you’re on your own. Your choice.”
    Danny dug his hands deep into his jacket pockets.
    “OK,” he said, “here’s what went down. The techies. The guys who founded the company. I met them at a Texas Hold ’Em game Frank Geraghty was running in a loft in the West Village.”
    “The last I heard, Geraghty was doing a three-year bit in Dannemora,” I said.
    “You’ve been out of touch. He’s been out almost two years.”
    “And apparently back at it. Some people never learn.”
    “Story of my life,” Danny said. “The techies fancied themselves high rollers. I mean, back then the company was kicking off three, four hundred grand a month. Expenses were low, so there was plenty of money to indulge their Doyle Brunson fantasy.”
    “Why were you at the game?”
    “I was the shill. Lost early and came back strong when the pot was right. Geraghty paid me a couple a hundred a night. When the techies showed up, we played them like fish.”
    “They had it coming,” Kenny said.
    “You got it. The first couple of times we let them walk off with maybe ten large. Made it look easy. Then we put the hammer to them.”
    “How much are we talking?”
    “Quarter million. A lot of money even for them. Geraghty figured it was enough.”
    “But you saw potential,” I said.
    “Yeah. You know how it is when you’re gambling. People talk. Like to brag. Even when they’re going down the tubes. Well, these guys couldn’t shut up. Went on about how the two fifty was a drop in the bucket. Not even a month’s worth of sales.”
    “And it got you thinking,” Kenny said, “that there may be a way out for them.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Is this where China comes in?” I said.
    “That’s a piece of the bullshit I laid on them, but it never happened. I told them I could get them high-end electronics at a fraction of the cost, and if they pop it on their website it would move like a son of a bitch.”
    “So instead of candles that retailed for maybe ten bucks, they could be moving sound systems and flat screens.”
    “Exactly. And instead of three, four hundred a month, they would be doing ten times that.”
    “And they bought it.”
    “They did, the greedy bastards.”
    “Where did you get the merch from, Danny?”
    “I knew some guys who heisted the stuff. I paid them ten percent and sold it back to the company at twenty percent.”
    “And you were on the company’s payroll?” Kenny asked.
    Danny smiled. “A guy’s gotta make a living,” he said. “We put it up on the site and the stuff flew out of the warehouse.”
    “But,” I asked, “didn’t the slippage go down?”
    “Dropped like a rock. Those schmuck engineers had their heads so far up their asses that they forgot their business model.”
    “How did you meet Barak?” Kenny asked.
    “Actually, he found me.”
    “How?”
    “I get a call one day. Guy says he’s seen the website. Thinks the concept is pure genius. Says he’s been ordering lots of merchandise. I do a quick check, and he’s right. Fifty grand an order. Says we can make even more money. Wants to talk.”
    “So you meet,” I said. “Without the owners.”
    “Yep. See, by this time I realize that there’s just so