Free The Deal by Adam Gittlin Page B

my surroundings.
    At one twenty, after a good game of challenging myself to properly identify numerous randomly selected properties from the horizon, I reentered my bedroom, placing a slumbering Neo underneath the blanket on my bed. I headed back down my main corridor all the way to the front foyer, where I retrieved my briefcase before heading to the study. Wearing nothing more than the suit pants I had been in all day, I settled in to the room, a warm, sophisticated study I had modeled after my father’s. The walls, all comprised of dark, stained wood bookshelves lined with everything from classics to beach reads, surrounded me comfortably as I settled in to the oversized, dark leather chair behind my desk. My feet welcomed the plush, black carpet as I turned on my desktop computer and pulled all of my necessary documents from my briefcase. I turned on the desk lamp, which created just enough illumination for my workspace while simultaneously reminding me of what time it in fact was. The apartment was dead quiet, the only faint sounds coming from the streets down below just past the windows behind me.
    I began to work furiously.

Chapter 9
    7:30 a.m.
    Thursday morning. Exactly forty-eight hours after Andreu Zhamovsky had become the focal point of our lives, we were in Tommy’s office ready to each lay our brilliant idea on the table. As always each of us was secretly hoping to outshine the others. Tommy was behind his desk and the three of us were each in our usual spots around his office. Much like any family when in a common gathering place, we were no different. We had our set places, places that made us feel safe, places that reminded us we belonged no matter what. Like my buddy L’s family growing up, each family member, all six of them, would take the same place around the dinner table every night. This never changed, because none of them were willing to let it. That’s family.
    All four of us were drinking our morning Starbucks. My night had run right into my morning, so even though I looked as sharp as I did every day, I hadn’t yet had any downtime to wash the prior evening out of my system. For all I cared my Starbucks may as well have been another glass of Sapphire. It didn’t matter. I was pumped. Even more so by the fact that I could tell they were too.
    “Let’s get to it straight away, guys,” Tommy began. “I have a breakfast with Jon Robard in an hour.”
    “Thanks, Tommy,” Jake said.
    Jon Robard was the lead broker on the other side of a deal Jake had been putting together for six months. Jon was representing the owner of a class A building at 55th and Park. Jake was representing Chenowith Publishing that was seeking fifty thousand square feet. They were about to close on two full, contiguous floors, and the window of opportunity was closing for us to lock in our desired numbers. The deal couldn’t be put off. Tommy was sitting in for Jake.
    “Now he’s all set with fifty-two dollars per square foot in years one, two, and three. Is that right? Or are they still trying to bump you up starting year three as opposed to four?” continued Tommy.
    “We’re airtight at fifty-two, year one through, and including, year three.” Jake responded.
    “Fine.”
    Tommy then ran his eyes over page sixteen of the lease once again, the page outlining the base rental prices for the space over the term of the lease. These numbers are given as an annual figure for each year of the term, that when divided by the number of square feet being rented gives you the rental cost per square foot.
    “Fine,” Tommy said again, as he quickly thumbed through the rest of the document. “Electric, the option to take the floor above in two thousand seven. Everything else seems in place.”
    Tommy put the lease, and Jake’s deal, aside.
    “Let’s go. Perry, you start.”
    Perry was ready to go, I could see it in every aspect of her that morning. Her dark brown Armani pantsuit matched the crisp look in her eye. Her hair