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sizing about which house I would buy andwhat restaurants I’d have private tables at when my cell phone rang; it was David. “Hey listen, I’m sitting here with Pamela and Tommy’s manager. He just wants to get clear on a few things before the meeting with you and Pamela and Tommy, could you run back over here? Won’t take long.” I drove right back over, walked into the office with a new- found level of confidence and went to shake the hand of Tommy’s manager.
He didn’t shake my hand.
“I need to know something—how the FUCK did you get in this office?”
I was stunned. For a second, I really thought he was asking me how I physically got to the office. I was about to tell him that David’s secretary gaveme directions and I drove there from the airport, but that’s not what he was asking. “How the fuck did you get in here? You’re some nobody from upstate New York, you didn’t go to college, you got some little internet business? How much do you do, a mil- lion a year? Is that what you do? Are you amillionaire? I bet
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