Bruce Bauman - Broken Sleep

Moses surveyed his room, the few items left to be packed. The house would go up for sale next week, and he was moving to a one-bedroom apartment in Marina del Rey. They’d split the house money and their savings. Jay asked for nothing else.

His mother’s menorah rested on the almost empty shelf next to the plain white envelope where he kept his father’s medal. A large plastic bag filled with rubbish and a half-filled box with mementos sat on the floor. He grabbed the envelope. Held it tight. Tossed it in the box. He just couldn’t throw it out. He blew dust off the menorah and spoke aloud, “Hey, God, an eight-day-a-week miracle up your sleeve so Jay will come home? Nah? No answer? ’Course not.”

Outside, a car honked. Moses placed the menorah in the box and grabbed his sport coat and the binder with the proposal and his notes on the Nightingale Foundation. The driver proceeded to Musso & Frank in Hollywood.

Already seated in a leather booth in the back room, Alchemy finished autographing cloth napkins for two teenage boys. He signed three more napkins and put them on the end of the table. If no one else came over, he’d leave them.

He got quickly to his agenda. “What’d you think of the foundation proposal?”

“Looks promising. It can do a lot of good and it will set you up for the political leap.”

“Good things from the foundation. Great things from the Nightingale Party, which is the endgame.” Alchemy finished his vodka and ordered another, along with a glass of wine for Moses. “How much they pay you at SCCAM?”

“Fifty-eight and benefits. Summers off. Why?”

“That’s it? Come work with me.”

“Doing what?”

“I need someone I trust to oversee the foundation’s everyday workings. You’re the only person since I’ve been ‘famous’ who never asked for money or special this or that. I heard about the girl’s music you sent to Andrew. You didn’t put me in that spot.”

Moses hadn’t been sure what he would do in regard to Evie. If she had made an official complaint, would introducing her to Alchemy get her to withdraw it? Alchemy just made the decision for him.

“Mose, I’m going to need your knowledge and smarts when we go political.”

“There are many people smarter and way more experienced than me in working the political game.”

“I’ll hire them when the time comes. None of them is my brother.” Alchemy took a few purposeful gulps of his drink. “Tell me if I’m right about this, during the revolution, Washington used as his motto ‘Victory or Death.’ ”

“I’m not sure if it was his motto. He did use that phrase as the password during the crossing of the Delaware River. One would have to say ‘victory’ and the other had to answer with ‘or death’ to get by.”

“Good enough. Now, what I’m going to say, I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. I’m not. My mom was taken from me when she flipped out at the gallery and stabbed Lively and herself. When I was thirteen and living in Berlin, she tried to jump off a balcony so she could climb the Wall. Both times I stood by helpless. When I turned twenty-one, the Bickleys maneuvered to take away the small money in the trust earmarked for me and I couldn’t get my mom out of Collier Layne. I had no prospects. No backup plan when we started the Insatiables. It was all or nothing. If we made it, I promised myself two things. First, I would take care of Salome and Nathaniel.”

He took a few gulps of his vodka.

“Now, I’ve kept that promise as best I could. I made a second promise to Nathaniel and myself — to find a third way politically. It’s now time to start that process. I only know how to do things all the way — victory or death.”

With that, Alchemy laid out his offer. He would set aside money in a trust for lifetime health insurance, a $100K salary, and if Moses’s cancer returned, or if it just didn’t work out, he’d still get paid until he recovered or found another job. But more than the money, it was an opportunity to be part of history, not just teach it. “Think about any questions. I got to take a leak.”

When Alchemy returned, Moses posed a more immediate question. “Where’s Salome living?”

“Here some, and Shelter Island. Nathaniel is not doing so well.”

“Sorry to hear that. There’s more to evaluate, and if I take this, it’ll be time to end that charade.”

“Agreed … Mose, should we talk about Jay?”

“No need. Lot of divorces after cancer. And our failure had nothing to do with you. End of story.”

Alchemy nodded.

Moses continued, “Alchemy, there is something we need to discuss. If we’re going to do this, and continue our relationship on any serious level, you can never again lie to me in words or by silence. If I sign on, and I find out any more subterfuge, I walk.”

“Mea culpa. I shouldn’t have seen Teumer behind your back. And I should’ve given you the letter. I fucked up.”

“No more BS?”

“My word. Mose, it may not seem that way, but I’ll be indebted to you. I need you. We will do great things together.”

Could either of them live with that debt? Alchemy had given Moses a new life. Now he was offering him a new life. Again.

“I’ll ruminate. We’ll talk again.”

Two days later, on Friday afternoon, Moses met with chipmunk-faced Dean Slocum in his office. They sat opposite each other, separated by a black coffee table covered by academic journals.

“Moses, doubtless you’ve suffered through years of trauma. You look healthy. How are you feeling physically?”

“Pretty good.”

Slocum nodded. “I asked you here because Charles is stepping down as chair of the Humanities Department on Monday.” Before Moses could ask why, Slocum stopped him. “I’ll explain another time. The chair is yours. I need your answer by Sunday night.”

Moses pretended to cough and covered his mouth, repressing a giant-size hee-haw of relief.

“This is gratifying. Only my brother, who is extraordinarily persuasive, wants me to work with him.”

“You know serving as chair comes with a bump in pay and benefits.”

“It’s not about money. Sure, it matters. But this is more about how I want to spend the rest of my life.”

“I understand that. Only Moses, a tenured position is one of the most secure jobs in the world. Family businesses are notorious for their contentiousness.”

“I’ll mull it over and get back to you by Sunday.”

Slocum was no fool, and he made his appeal to Moses’s insecurities. Moses didn’t want to make the decision out of fear. After his illness, divorce, and skirting career suicide with what he now considered the foolish misstep of Evie, he desired — no, needed — to change his life.

On Saturday he called Alchemy, who answered, his voice impatient, “Mose, what’s up?”

“Bad time?” Moses asked.

“Yep. This’ll be what’ll it’ll be like to work with me. This is also why I want you. Most people don’t listen. Don’t hear anything in my voice. You did.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Fucking excellent. Better than excellent. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll get the damn thing started.”

Faster than Moses could have imagined, Alchemy pushed him into action. Moses met with heads of other foundations before setting up the nonprofit with the help of Alchemy’s lawyers and accountants. They raised the initial endowment with contributions from the Insatiables and their business partners. Alchemy pledged a good share of his net worth of $300-plus million, including his shares in Winsum Realty and Audition Enterprizes, which were invested wisely in new technology and media, as the bedrock of the endowment. Unlike in many nonprofits, he and Alchemy were determined that the vast majority of the money would be spent on needs, not frills or waste.