THE CEO

 

                              

THE CEO

II

Wall street, New York

The next day

The day was cold and chilly small specks of snow could be seen descending from the heavens like falling flakes of hope each identical like the people of New York. Clouds hung low from the sky like a low hanging fruit, decadent and pristine. New York seemed to buzz with life like a humming bird.

Its people themed with modern eclectic behavior, some moving robotically to their jobs a routine that New York knew all too well. Sirens could be heard wailing from a distance like a howling wolf in a dark forest. New York was the best during winter time that is where you would see all kinds bizarre and ethereal activity.

Homeless people fighting for their lives, crime levels climbing steadily like the tall skyscrapers that pierced the heavens. Food vendors could be seen dishing out savory dishes from all across the world: Asia, Middle East and Africa. The air smelt of a bittersweet tang across the food trucks appealing and delicious. Residents across the streets would shove snow and cursed the very Earth it piled on too like an evening dark missal.

Frank Giovanni the Harvard protégé stepped out of the subway train wearing a medium range suit, his neck fashioned with a tie that made him uncomfortable and suffocating. He was already late for his appointment with Simon Crawford or rather his post introductory to the firm.

 Simon Crawford was the CEO of Goldman Sachs a fortune 500 company that aimed at increasing its investors’ money with zero to no risk. Frank did not know how Simon Crawford did it, his well cool demeanor as he traded stocks by sheer instinct, deciphering charts like a child’s puzzle. He was in awe of him. He worshipped the very ground he walked on holy, admiral and filled with benevolence.

Frank hailed a cab from the subway exit. He stared at his watch in his dismay…fifteen minutes late Simon was going to kill him. He chuckled at the excitement of getting the new job. But this was not an ordinary rookie gig. He was going to be the apprentice of one of the most affluent people in America, Simon Crawford.

He worshipped him like a god. He always heard stories of him having lavish all white parties in the Hamptons and in the islands with heavy hitters like Donald Trump, Jeffrey Epstein and the famous Stephen Hawking. He was a man of great honor that always left him in great reverence.

There were rumors that Simon Crawford had ties with the mob but Frank dismissed them quickly, they were just rumors he would argue with his college friends back in the dormitory of the Harvard Business School. He never felt the need to ask him, clearly Simon was a man of vision and he was not ready to jeopardize his newly acquainted boss with insinuations he had heard from the backrooms of Harvard.

Pigeons flew past them as the Indian taxi driver swerved left and right. Frank insisting that he drives as fast possibly for he was already late as if it would make a difference. The yellow taxi cab flew past the cars like a raging bull, stopping at nothing he raced through mild traffic and pedestrians almost knocking off a homeless person like he was mere piece of meat.

He finally made it to the office in a few minutes to the top of the hour. He stepped out of the taxi impetuously hurrying to the Goldman Sachs tower, his heart beating fast forgetting to pay the immigrant who had clearly come fresh out of the boat.

He adjusted his tie frantically as he bent over the receptionist’s desk.

“I am here to see Mr. Simon Crawford” he said politely quickly adjusting his sling bag wrapped around his shoulders.

“Frank!” the sound was familiar and filled with gaudiness. It was Simon Crawford dressed elegantly like a prince: a three-button suit with a silk silver blue shirt with a dark blue velvet tie.

Frank stood scared stiff transfixed on the cold tiled concrete floor; his word cut sharp as glass. Simon smiled wanly showing his perfectly white veneers that almost blinded him. Simon stretched his hand and gave him a firm handshake and stared into his eyes as if looking through his soul and telepathically seeing his life’s memories.

Frank chocked.

“Mr. Crawford, sorry I am late” said Frank stammering as he greeted him.

“No need for apologies” Simon replied.

His assistant a young beautiful blonde haired Caucasian woman stood right next to him. She was a pinnacle of beauty he her hair nested on her head like a golden crown, her skinned was well tanned and pink. There she held a file with a leather cover. She wore a beautiful elegant blue dress made of silk that matched Simon’s tie.

“Frank Giovanni, welcome. Let me show you to your office” said the mannequin looking lady who later introduced herself as Sarah.

“I am sorry did you say office?” asked Frank childly.

Frank was perplexed. I have my own office? He thought

“Yes, I did. Come on honey.” She said with a thick southern Texan accent.

“And after that you will be having lunch with me…I’ll let you two get acquainted” said Simon as he left through the double door entrance. Everything seemed to be a one tone color scheme of gold and dark brown extremely modern and minimalistic.

She followed the long-legged woman inside the busy Wall Street office.

This is only the beginning…