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that.”
    “All right.” Jay stole an inquisitive glance at McCarthy’s own longish hair.
    McCarthy continued hunting through the papers on his desk. “I know Oliver sent me your resume in the office mail, but I can’t find it in this pile of crap.” He abandoned the search and reclined in his large leather chair. “So give me the audio version, and make it the abridged one.”
    “Okay. I’m from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. I graduated from Lehigh six years ago last week with a degree in English. And since then I’ve been working for the National City Bank of New York as a corporate-finance specialist.”
    McCarthy removed the stub of the cigar from his mouth and pointed it at Jay. “You mean you’ve been working as a lending officer.”
    “Pardon?”
    “All you people at commercial banks claim you’re corporate-finance specialists,” McCarthy said testily. “But to me, a corporate-finance specialist is someone who underwrites public debt and equity deals, which I’d be willing to bet a lot of money you’ve never done. You’ve made loans, right?”
    In six years at National City Jay had never experienced a personal confrontation or had someone call into question his abilities. At McCarthy & Lloyd it had happened three times in the last twenty minutes, and he wasn’t even officially an employee yet. “I’ve done my share of deals,” he responded evenly.
    McCarthy thought about digging deeper, then decided against it. “I’ll be blunt. Oliver’s taking a big chance on you. I told him he ought to hire somebody from Princeton or Harvard, but he wants to hire you.” McCarthy shrugged. “Oliver’s instincts are excellent. He runs the arbitrage desk and has made lots of money doing that for me over the past five years. If he wants to take a chance on you, it’s his business. But let me tell you something.” McCarthy leaned over the desk. “People will be watching you closely, and Oliver’s reputation will suffer if you don’t work out. He’s made me a great deal of money, but I don’t much care about the past. I care about today. Remember that,” McCarthy said forcefully. “Oliver is under an immense amount of pressure, as everyone around here is. But in return for dealing with that pressure Oliver owns a vacation home in the Caribbean, sails his fifty-foot boat out of the Westchester Yacht Club in the summertime, drives expensive cars, sends his kid to the finest private school in the area, and takes vacations most people only hear about from Robin Leach.” McCarthy smashed the glowing end of his cigar into a crystal ashtray sitting atop a stack of folders. “Oliver wants to guarantee you a million dollars in January. Personally, I can’t see why. However, it’s his budget and he has the authority to do it.” McCarthy held up his hand. “It’s his budget, but ultimately it’s my money. If you don’t produce, you’ll be gone and Oliver will have a big problem, because I detest wasting money. For me it’s like hearing fingernails screech slowly down a blackboard. It makes my skin crawl.” McCarthy paused. “Oliver has stuck his neck out on a chopping block for you. He’s given you an opportunity a great many people would kill for. You better appreciate that.”
    “I do,” Jay said calmly. Now he understood why Oliver had exploded at the idea of Jay’s taking two weeks to leave National City. At McCarthy & Lloyd you were expected to produce immediately. The pace there would be frenetic from the opening bell and would only intensify after that. Losing would not be tolerated. “I won’t forget what he’s done for me.”
    “Good.” McCarthy checked his watch. “I’ve got to get to a dinner at the Waldorf. Do you have any questions?”
    “Just one.” Jay held up his forefinger. “What’s it like to have half a billion dollars?”
    McCarthy glared at Jay for several moments, then stood up and walked around the desk until he was standing directly in front of the younger man.