TOP
PRODUCER
TOP
PRODUCER
NORB VONNEGUT
Minotaur Books
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK
New York
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
TOP PRODUCER. Copyright © 2009 by Norb Vonnegut. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
[http://www.thomasdunnebooks.com] www.thomasdunnebooks.com
[http://www.minotaurbooks.com] www.minotaurbooks.com
Book design by Rich Arnold
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Vonnegut, Norb.
Top producer : a novel of dark money, greed, and friendship / Norb Vonnegut. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-312-38461-6
1. Investment advisors—Fiction. 2. Success in business—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction. 4. Murder—Fiction. 5. Wall Street (New York, N.Y.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3622.O678T67 2009
813'.6—dc22
2009012731
First Edition: September 2009
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Mary, Wynn, and Coco.
You bring me joy every day.
Mary, it was Friday night—not Saturday.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you for reading
Top Producer
. It was a long journey from idea to publication. Writing this novel was like chartering the
Queen Mary II
inside my head. And I must tell you, the late-night parties rocked.
So many people contributed to this book. Caroline Fitzgibbons and Tad Smith referred me to my agent. Their introductions to the media world were significant gifts, especially for a rookie author. Caroline and Tad, I will always be grateful for the way you cheered me on from the start.
Scott Hoffman is an outstanding agent. He is my friend and relentless advocate from Folio Literary Management, the agency he cofounded. Scott’s business and editorial counsel is always wise. He works with talented people, like Kate Travers, the marketing director at Folio, and Celeste Fine, who promoted
Top Producer
around the world.
Scott paired me with Pete Wolverton of Thomas Dunne/St. Martin’s Press (SMP). Pete edited
Top Producer
and made it a much, much better book. It is a privilege to work with Pete and his colleagues: Sally Richardson, Tom Dunne, Andy Martin, Matthew Shear, John Murphy, Dori Weintraub, Matt Baldacci, Katie Gilligan, Monica Katz, Sarah Melnyk, and Liz Byrne. Special thanks to Hector DeJean, a terrific publicist at SMP who fielded my bazillion e-mails with can-do enthusiasm.
My great friends—Jon Ledecky, Tony McAuliffe, Scott Malkin, Dewey Shay, Tim Scrantom, Mark Director, Peter von Maur, Peter Raymond, Brooks Newmark, Eugene Matthews, and Chris Eklund—help me understand the world every day. Without our good times together and their appreciation for what makes people tick, I could not articulate the thoughts of my fictional characters. I owe additional thanks to Jon’s mother, Berta Ledecky, for encouraging me to write for as long as I can remember.
For many years, Cam Burns, Matt Arpano, and I worked as a team and managed money for wealthy families. I learned so much about financial services from Cam and Matt. And while the observations in
Top Producer
are all my own, I will forever be grateful for their sound judgment and market savvy.
Top Producer
includes several Polish expressions. I don’t speak a word. Kuba Kierlanczyk, while a high-school sophomore, translated text for early drafts. Thanks, Kuba, dude. Malgorzata Marjanska guided me with the jargon. I highly recommend her Web site, at [http://www.thepolishtranslator.com] www.thepolishtranslator.com.
What is a book without lawyers? Thalia Cody reviewed the SEC law and suggested an important plot point. David McCabe fielded questions about trusts and estates. Adam Snukal reviewed the contracts that keep me out of trouble.
Jon Orseck helped with passages about derivatives. Jay Coleman offered insights into I-banking. Michael Liebeskind guided me on important financial topics. Michael Roberts explained the Hollywood angle. Jack Bourger and Selena Vanderwerf spread the word and introduced me to the American Foundation for the Blind, an organization that expands possibilities for people with vision loss. Mark Harrington and his outstanding team taught me how to work with the media.
Other friends, who advised or helped in some way, include: Bob Poirier; many, many champions with the American Diabetes Association; Ryker and Tina Young (“Maui Maui”); Jenny McAuliffe; Shari Director; Gwill York; Emily Benedek; John and Suzie Edelman; Jordana Davis; Bob Grady; Marlon Young; Bill Sorensen; and Tracy Chesman a.k.a. “cheesechick” on Twitter.
Over breakfast several years ago, Mark Vonnegut described writing as the “family business” in his home. Mark, who delivers keen insight in the most amusing manner, was so right about the experience. Great thanks to:
Marion Vonnegut, my mother and first fan; Micki and Jack Costello, Buni Vonnegut, and Chris Nottingham; Wendy and Joe Vonnegut; and Andy Graves. My dad could not be here. But he was the role model I needed to get out of bed every morning at five A.M. and start writing.
Nightly dinner conversation at home creates great source material. My children each possess wry humor that found its way into the novel. Thank you, Wynn and Coco. You are my inspiration. There would be no
Top Producer
without Mary, my wife and love. She encouraged me. She read the novel a thousand times, cutting, cursing, and chuckling with every pass. She made the good guys better, the bad guys more evil. She kept me going and tolerated my insane hours. I can only say, “Thank you, sweetie.”
There is one absolute truth I have learned as a first-time author: No voyage is complete. No story is worth telling. No book is worth writing, unless someone reads it. Thank you for reading my book.
I hope you enjoy
Top Producer.
CHAPTER ONE
Six weeks ago I was a rising star at a white-shoe investment bank and brokerage firm. I was Babe Ruth on my way from Boston to New York City, John F. Kennedy connecting with crowds during the presidential elections. The markets were rocking during the first half of 2007. And it seemed clear that one day I would become a titan of finance, a fixture on the business pages of
The New York Times.
My job is the occupation formerly known as “stockbroker.” But it has been years since anyone called me that. “Stockbroker” sounds oily.
Glengarry Glen Ross
. The word makes clients twitch. Even brokerage houses, institutions that profit from legions of smiling, dialing, cold-calling robotrons, cast about for less unctuous titles. Stockbrokers are “investment professionals” over at Goldman. Morgan Stanley can’t decide whether its people are “investment representatives” or “financial advisers.” Another competitor is toying with “private bankers.” After eight years in the industry, I have grown numb to all the angst.
I focus on a different name. Wall Street calls its most successful salespeople “top producers.” Think of us as rainmakers, the folks who butter the bread. We are a brash bunch at the office. We have opinions about everything and say what we want, for we understand three axioms about our industry.
One: Investors hire advisers with strong points of view. The more impassioned our convictions, the better.
Two: As long as we generate revenues, bosses tolerate our quirks and leave us the hell alone.
Three: Wall Street firms pay ridiculous money to top producers. And that, my friend, is a beautiful thing if you’ve ever been poor.
I was a top producer, the captain of a cramped cubicle rigged with a twenty-one-inch flat-screen monitor and an even bigger television hanging from the ceiling. Around my desk the stacks of investment research often crested five feet before toppling like dominos into nearby aisles.
Who needs space to make money?
I managed ideas, not clutter. My job was to cut through all the market chaos and sniff out the truth. Wall Street coughs up so much investment phlegm. If I wasn’t on the phone guarding clients, “my guys” to use the industry vernacular, I wasn’t making money. Bold, opinionated, you bet. I had all the answers and then some.
On hedge funds: “Would you let someone play Vegas with your money and give them twenty percent of the winnings?”
On McKinsey’s alumni, the ex-consultants infiltrating the ranks of Wall Street’s management: “Fucking revenge of the nerds. One day, those people will suck our industry dry of testosterone and everything good.”
On money management: “Wall Street is the only place in the world where thirty seconds swing ten million dollars into place. Try buying real estate for the same amount and you’ll grow old as lawyers negotiate the fine points.”
Finance was fast. It was furious. And I thrived on the frenzied pace. I had broken into the big leagues of capitalism and brought my “A” game to the office every day. So I thought. The last six weeks changed everything. My world unraveled the night Charlie Kelemen hosted his wife’s birthday bash in the New England Aquarium. Best friend, savior, a man who wore Brioni suits the way sweet Italian sausages split their fatty innards over open flames—that was Charlie Kelemen. He did so much for me. He did so much for all his friends. I still can’t believe what Charlie did to us.
The signs were all there. We should have seen it coming.
CHAPTER TWO
“No, Grove. It’s not happening,” Charlie argued over the phone, his voice firm.
I just had to persist. And now I live with the guilt. “The aquarium is the perfect place to surprise Sam.”
“Won’t happen. I’m hiring a yacht to cruise around Manhattan. It’s romantic. It’s glamorous.”
“It’s boring. Been there. Done that.”
“But the aquarium is in Boston,” Charlie objected.
“What do you care?” Whenever I argued, my faint Southern drawl intensified. “You almost live there now. You’re always visiting your in-laws on Beacon Hill.”
“Sam’s parents would rather fly here. They love New York City.”
“Trust me. Boston gives them home court advantage. They can help with the preparations. Besides—”
“Besides what?” he interrupted.
“It’s the only way to surprise Sam. She’ll never suspect Boston. You know how she is.”
“A card-carrying snoop.” He chuckled with a touch of Truman Capote in his voice. His nervous laughter signaled fading resolve.
“Everybody knows she’s a
snoop
.” Repeating key words was a proven sales technique. By emphasizing “snoop,” I was selling hard, employing all those time-tested skills of a top producer.
“What about all our New York friends?” Charlie asked without conviction. His objections were dropping like Custer’s men at Little Bighorn.
“Charlie, you could fill the aquarium with your friends from Boston. But we’ll all come from New York. Tell everybody a road trip is the only way to keep Sam’s party a surprise.”
