Free The Privileges by Jonathan Dee Page A

the idea as a terrible one. But he felt both pity and fascination when it came to Parker, who seemed more and more capable of some kind of epic crash and burn; and he knew Sanford would recognize that he was there only as a favor. Plus it was such a lunatic idea that he hated the thought of not being in the room when Sanford heard it. “When?” he said.
    Parker beamed. “No time like the present,” he said.
    The rear wall of Sanford’s office was floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the Hudson. It was all dark wood and leather and had so much nautical crap in it that he might have stood by the window and imagined he was in some sort of high-tech crow’s nest. It was pouring rain out there and much darker than it should have been. Parker nervously laid it out for him, and with a glance at Adam the old man gestured for the manila folder to be handed to him. He pored over Parker’s analysis, not impatiently. At one point he looked up and said, “But who is Joe Levy?”
    “Production head,” Parker said.
    “Yes, I see that, but who is he? What’s he done? What sort oftrack record does he have in terms of, you know, actually making money?”
    Parker shifted in his seat. “Well, he’s produced numerous films as an independent,” he said.
“Boathook
was one that did pretty well, in a box-office sense. But really what’s intriguing about him is mostly a matter of pedigree. He’s the son of Charles Levy, who was the head of UA back in the glory days. A legendary guy. Something like five or six Oscars. Joe grew up surrounded by all the great minds in the business.”
    Sanford made a snorting noise. “That’s it?” he said, and leaned back in his chair. “His father? What is it, some sort of feudal system out there?”
    “Kind of, actually,” Parker said.
    But Sanford was getting on a roll. “Were more chilling words ever spoken,” he said, putting the folder down, “from the investor’s point of view, than ‘he’s the son of the founder’? He figures the old man made it look so easy, how hard can it be? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he’s a lovely guy. I’m sure the parties are amazing. But I’m always leery of guys who do that, who step into their fathers’ shoes. You know why? Because usually they’re Pete Rose Junior. I mean, my father was a tailor. Should I have gone into that business? Do you suppose I had some kind of genetic affinity for it? What about you? What does your father do?”
    Parker was nodding now, trying to get out in front of the idea that the whole proposal had been a lark to begin with. “He’s a tax attorney,” he said.
    “Well then maybe you missed your calling. Maybe you should be a tax attorney too. Adam, how about you? What’s your father’s trade?”
    Adam smiled. “Pipe fitter,” he said.
    The eyes of the other two men met for a silent moment, and then they burst into laughter. “I can just see it!” Sanford said. “So maybe you’re considering going into business with him?”
    “Not likely,” Adam said. “He’s dead.”
    He’d meant it as what it was, a fact, but it came out all wrong. He could tell from their faces. One thing he did not like was for peopleto feel sorry for him. When the sympathy faded, they would remember the weakness, and then one day they would turn around and shank you.
    The rain made for an odd effect forty floors up, because you didn’t get to see it hit anything on the way down, it was just a kind of static in the gray air.
    “Jesus Christ,” Sanford said. His voice was very different. He had a sentimental streak in him—everybody knew about it, and some weren’t above playing on it, but Adam really hadn’t been trying to do that. “I didn’t know.”
    “Did he die like when you were a kid or something?” Parker said.
    Adam thought for a moment. “A little less than a year ago,” he said.
    “What?” Sanford said. “You don’t mean when you were working here.”
    “Just before.”
    “I had no