This Little Piggy. M.G. Crisci

Tishman, ignoring Victor.

      “I so move,” said Franklin. “Second,” said Diamond.

      ~

      “Franklin, perhaps it’s appropriate to explain the terms of the financing to Victor since they are quite favorable to the company.” Franklin winked at Tishman as they continued their performance. Victor understood the financing arrangement was a done deed. He decided to play along with the charade. The sixty-million-dollar valuation meant he was an instant multimillionaire!

      “Our advisory group suggests we price the shares at ten cents, with a warrant convertible at twenty cents during the next offering,” Franklin said, talking telephone numbers. “The plan is to issue six hundred million shares and offer the public one hundred million of those shares.”

      “Who comprises the advisory group?” asked Victor.

      “Actually,” said Ryman, “besides Martin, they are a group of people I’ve worked closely with over the years. The names won’t mean anything to you, but you’ll get to meet everybody in due course. The only other financing matter I believe we need to address is Norwest’s request for a pre-launch meeting with their brokers, so we can tell them our story and light their fire before they hit the phones.”

      “I don’t see any problem with that,” said Tishman, confident Victor knew nothing about the rules surrounding “quiet periods,” i.e., management silence during the SEC prospectus filing and approval process. “Do you, Victor?”

      ~

      Two hours after the meeting at Tishman’s, Victor burst through the front door, gloating like a Cheshire cat. “The deal is almost done,” he declared with a hearty thumbs up. “I took the boys to the cleaners, thanks to my Sandra guilt-complex negotiation.”

      “What in the world does that mean?”

      “Every time they wanted to shut me down, I said I needed more money because of the style to which you had become accustomed!”

      “You didn’t!” said Sandra horrified. “That’s an outright lie.”

      “Aww, don’t worry about it. On Wall Street, everybody tries to control their destiny by employing some version of the truth. That’s part of the game.”

      Some version of the truth was a funny line, even though its meaning contained an unconscionable moral statement. Sandra smiled. She was starting to selectively ignore certain aspects of the unfolding ITI scenario…partially because she wanted to support her husband’s newfound passion and partially because the dangling carrot of absolute financial independence felt good. “Pretty, pretty good,” as comic Larry David would say.

      “Honey, you know the boys and I had a really good time getting to know Franklin. He’s got a few warts. But then, don’t we all?”

      Sandra paused. “What do you mean, almost done?”

      “Some final papers have to be filed and approved by the government before we can commence operations. Just routine stuff.”

      Sandra’s conservative instincts reared their head. “How long will that take?”

      “Six weeks, more or less.”

      “Suppose word gets out?”

      “Baby, No chance. Just remember it’s business as usual at A&J. Ditto at the hospital. Agree