Jay McInerney - Bright, Precious Days

Russell had his own liquidity crisis. The spike in sales on Jack’s book was staving off the inevitable, but McCane, Slade was still foundering. If he didn’t buy any books, and didn’t pay himself, he would just have enough money to meet the January payroll, and then, if he didn’t find a buyer or an infusion of capital, he’d have to declare bankruptcy. In the wake of the crisis, Corbin, Dern’s interest in buying the company had evaporated, despite Washington’s best efforts. At this moment, no one was sure what anything was worth.

His emotional coffers were similarly dry. His discussions with Corrine always ended at the same impasse. He’d endured two sessions of marriage counseling before bailing; the more she told him, the less he felt inclined to forgive her. Thanksgiving and Christmas, fraught as they were with emotional significance, required some sort of détente and accommodation, although Russell wasn’t ready to perpetrate the illusion of normalcy, or to be alone with Corrine and their kids. For the moment, Storey and Jeremy were shuttling between the loft and Casey’s town house, and they were both showing the strain. After a series of complex negotiations, it was decided that Corrine would take Storey and Jeremy to her mother’s for Thanksgiving, while Russell joined the Lee clan in their loft, where, with his best friend, he watched the Tennessee Titans annihilate the Detroit Lions.

“Jack would’ve been pleased,” Russell said afterward. “He was a big Titans fan.”

“Was there ever a memorial service?”

“I was thinking about organizing something in the spring,” Russell said. “A reading, maybe. Nobody else seems to be stepping up. Of course, there’s no money for that at the moment.”

After the feast, Washington suggested they cut through the ensuing torpor by taking a walk.

“How’d you like a partner?” Washington asked as he lit a cigarette just outside the door of his building.

“Like a drowning man would like a rope.”

“I had a little windfall.”

“You’re saying that you personally want to be my partner?”

He nodded, exhaling a vast cloud of smoke.”

“What kind of windfall?” Russell asked.

“I shorted the market back in September.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“It’s unseemly to flaunt your Kiton suit when everyone around you is losing his shirt. Also, it would look really bad if it got out that my biggest short was Lehman Brothers.”

Russell had no idea how one shorted a stock, or even, exactly, what it meant, but Washington had always had a great head for business. “Jesus, that’s rich. And Veronica doesn’t know?”

“What do you think?”

“You’d really do this?”

“It’s not like I’m giving you the money. It’s an investment. Publishing’s my business. I already did the due diligence for Corbin, Dern, and I know you’re a great publisher. It’ll be like old times, chief, and I expect an excellent return on my investment.”

“I’m not sure you realize how much I need. It’s gotten worse since you saw those numbers.”

“I’m willing to kick in five large.”

“Five hundred thousand?”

Wash nodded.

“Holy shit, really? That could get me through to the summer. What kind of piece would you want?”

“We can work that out later,” he said.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s not get all sentimental here,” Washington said, taking a last drag from his cigarette. “It’s an investment.”

If only his domestic crisis had a comparable resolution, Russell thought. Christmas remained a dilemma, the negotiations fraught. “I don’t understand why we can’t all be together,” Jeremy had said on several occasions. He refused to accompany Russell and Storey on the search for a Christmas tree. Storey did her best to act as if nothing was really amiss, but as the weeks of separation dragged on, she seemed to grow weary of the effort, becoming increasingly withdrawn and sullen. Finally it was agreed that Corrine and the kids would spend Christmas Eve together with Casey and her daughter at the Reyneses’ town house. The young Calloways would be dropped off at the loft Christmas morning to spend the day with Russell, and on the day after, Corrine and the kids would drive up to Stockbridge to spend a few days with Corrine’s mother.

Two days before Christmas, Hilary called to thank Russell for helping her get the job at HBO. She’d come by a couple of times lately, watching the kids when Russell needed a sitter. He asked her about her Christmas plans.

“Don’t have any,” she said.

“You’re not going up to see your mother?”

“We’re not exactly getting along at the moment. I’ll just stay home, watch It’s a Wonderful Life and drink myself senseless.”

“You’re welcome to come here,” Russell said. Over the past few weeks, he’d found that he actually enjoyed her company. She’d picked the kids up at school several times and stayed for supper afterward. As different as she was from Corrine, she was a kind of surrogate for her sister.

“Really?” she said. “Actually, that would be great.”

After he hung up, he realized that Corrine would probably be furious when she found out that Hilary was spending Christmas with him and the kids, which made the idea all the more appealing.

—

“So what’s the plan?” Storey asked, after they’d been dropped off at the loft on Christmas morning.

“Presents,” Jeremy said, pointing at the pile under the tree.

“Well, yes, presents. And then I’m cooking a goose for the carnivores and a Tofurkey for our resident vegetarian.”

“Gross,” said Jeremy.

“What’s gross,” Storey said, “is slaughtering innocent animals when there are lots of humane, nonanimal sources of protein and fat.”

Russell shrugged and said, “Aunt Hilary’s going to join us.”

“Really?”

“Is that okay?”

“That seems kind of weird,” Storey said. “I mean, it’s Christmas.”

“Well, she is family.”

“I like her,” Jeremy said.

“Does Mom know about this?” Storey asked.

Russell couldn’t help being surprised that Storey was suddenly looking out for her mother’s interests, after being instrumental in her exposure.

“I haven’t mentioned it to her, no.”

“I don’t think she’ll like it.”

He almost said “Tough luck,” but thought better of it. “Well, I don’t suppose she has to know.”

“It would’ve been nice if you’d talked to us first.”

“She called to see how you guys were and sounded kind of lonely. I thought it was the right thing to do. As you yourself pointed out, honey, it is Christmas.”

“Fine,” Storey said as Jeremy rummaged under the tree for his presents.

—

Hilary arrived at five, wearing a Santa hat and bearing gifts. Underneath her coat she was wearing a short red dress with white faux-fur trim.

“I wanted to look festive,” she said.

“I’d say you succeeded,” Russell said.

Storey was decidedly chilly in her greeting, while her brother seemed determined to make up for his sister’s reserve.

Russell opened a bottle of champagne, giving each of the kids a small glass. Storey had no choice but to turn civil after opening her aunt’s present — a pink ensemble from Juicy Couture — but both she and Jeremy became mute at the dinner table, and Russell felt that his attempt to conduct a pleasant conversation wasn’t succeeding in convincing anyone that this was just another Christmas. After dinner, both kids seemed to welcome his reading from “A Child’s Christmas in Wales,” a Calloway Christmas ritual that went back as far as either could remember, but after fifteen minutes Jeremy stood up and said, “Mom should be here,” before retreating to his room. Storey, at least, had waited till the end of the reading before leaving the two adults and retreating to her room.