Mentally regrouping, he delivered his update on the Tokyo strategy to the senior partners. Tague got the nod of approval from everyone around the table, with the exception of his father.
“I’m not certain Japan is where our focus should be,” Harper mused as he tapped the end of his Mont Blanc pen against the old-fashioned leather blotter before him.
Tague said, “You love being able to tell clients we have global branches.” They’d already opened an annex in London.
“Perhaps what concerns me most,” his father said, “is whether we can afford to lose you from the New York office.”
Tague tamped down a surge of agitation that his father was being so obstinate. And for what reason? He didn’t want his son striking out on his own?
Tague said, “You were impressed by the revenue brought in by my last case.”
“They won’t all be that large,” Harper countered.
“I don’t intend to piecemeal a portfolio with small businesses. I’m going after international corporations that need outside representation for third-party objectivity, specialized expertise or the fact that their internal general counsel or legal departments aren’t robust enough to fight class-action lawsuits, execute billion-dollar contracts and proposals and the like while handling daily operational legalities. I assure you, you’ll be pleased with the results.”
He made eye contact with all of the men gathered, knowing his expression conveyed the conviction in his words.
Martin Stein said, “I contend that it’s an intelligent and advantageous move.”
The others concurred.
Harper was the majority owner, however, and they needed his buy-in. Tague fought the irritation mounting within him because his father dragged his feet. Several tense moments passed. Then Harper shoved his chair back at the head of the table, reached for the cane that was always by his side and stood.
He said, “You’ll have my answer on Monday.”
This rubbed Tague raw. What was his father up to?
Harper left the conference room. Tague asked Martin, “Som
ething going on that I should know about?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Harper is always thinking three steps down the line. I’m not sure what his objection is to your proposal, but it wouldn’t hurt to continue showing him the return on investment will be well worth the upfront effort and expenditures.” The older gentleman patted Tague on the back. “Keep up the good work.”
They all dispersed and Tague went about his business.
Though the irritation simmered in the back of his mind.
“We’re hitting a rave with the cool kids on a school night?” Tague asked the following evening. “How you’ve dissented since I’ve been gone, Chip.”
“Still hanging onto that all work and no play branch.” He tsked. “But only by your fingertips by the time I’m done with you,” Chip joked.
“You know why it’s imperative I have tunnel vision at the moment.”
“Broaden your scope—because you’re going to like what you see here.”
Resisting the urge to pinch the corners of his eyes with his finger and thumb, because Tague suffered a touch of jetlag—and, apparently, a lapse in judgment—he said in a dry tone, “You may think I need a more active social life, but haut-monde clubbing while I’m getting stonewalled at the office—by my own father, no less—is a bit extreme.”
So why had he agreed to swing by Chip’s place and pick him up at eleven o’clock, after his friend had called?
Tague’s driver had delivered them five minutes earlier to a curb adjacent to Central Park where there were lengthy lines contained within golden-velvet ropes outside a hot-spot called Deep Blue.
“Just…wait’ll we’re inside,” Chip told him.
Tague wondered if he was about to land in a scene from The Matrix, where someone offered him a wild-ride red pill.
Were that someone L.L. Branson...he just might take it.
But, damn, he didn’t need to get caught up in thoughts of her. Tague had plans to launch and a new career trajectory that had the potential to make him one of the most revered corporate attorneys in the world. To hell with his father’s hedging.