“You should be,” Teddy said. “And it seems like they’ve really learned from what happened with StrollUp.”
“Yeah, I think so,” Katya said. She was dying to get more details out of him about the new company, but she worried that if she asked any questions, it would be obvious that she was missing crucial information. But also, in what world was it possible for a person to have a company that totally failed and then, literally weeks later, get someone to contemplate giving him money for a new thing? People thought this was normal. It wasn’t normal.
“Anyway. What’s up? You said you had a question?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been looking into some stuff about TakeOff, and I know you’d said that you guys were close to a deal with them. So I wanted to get your, uh, take on a couple things. Sorry.”
“Hit me,” Teddy said.
“So at their good-bye drinks on Friday night for Casper Kim—”
“Wait. Did you say good-bye drinks?”
“Yeah,” Katya said. “His last day was Friday.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” Teddy said. He sounded not exactly thrilled to learn this information.
“Why?” She wasn’t intending for the conversation to go this way, but that was sometimes how you got your best stuff—by just letting your sources talk and then subtly guiding them back on track.
“We’re off the record, right?”
“Always,” Katya said. She wasn’t about to burn one of her best sources.
“So…when Mack came in and did his presentation, we really grilled him about the product, because they had a release that was a little buggy, and he was going on and on about the new release and how great it was going to be, so we were asking him who he had in charge of product and he just starts talking about this guy Casper Kim who’s some kind of genius product wunderkind, and honestly that made a big difference for us. We want to know that people have a strong team behind them, you know?”
“Totally,” Katya said.
“So if Casper left, and Mack didn’t feel the need to reveal this information to us…that’s—well, that’s problematic.”
“Right,” Katya said. “Do you think this will change anything for you guys?”
Teddy paused. “I mean, I want to say no? I want to say that we have faith in Mack and his vision for TakeOff and that we’re impressed with the work he’s done so far and have total confidence in him for the future.” He paused again. “I want to say that.”
“Ha,” Katya said. “Well, let me ask you something else. Have you heard anything about what happened at the drinks the other night?”
“Is this about that invisibletechman tweet?” Teddy sounded annoyed. “James sent it to me and asked if I knew anything about it. I told him I didn’t. But now you’re saying…well, what are you saying?”
“What if I told you that Mack’s biggest problem right now probably isn’t Casper Kim leaving?”
“I’m almost afraid to ask you what you mean by that,” Teddy said. “Should I be afraid to ask you what you mean by that?”
Katya laughed. “I’m not sure. Are you afraid of sexual harassment?”
Teddy emitted a low whistle. “You’re shitting me,” he said. “You’re fucking shitting me right now.”
“I am not, in fact, shitting you,” Katya said. “I’m sorry to say.”
“Fuck,” Teddy said. “Sexual harassment? Are you sure? Do you have proof? Who? I need to know everything.”
“I actually can’t go into too much detail,” Katya said. “I just wanted to know…well, theoretically, would this have an impact on your investment?”
“Katya, you need to fucking tell me if this is something real,” Teddy said. His voice was tight. “We are literally like a day away from signing this deal and I am personally fucked if this comes out after the deal is signed. Okay? So, like, as a friend, just tell me what the problem is.”
“I’ll tell you if I can get a quote I can attribute to a Gramercy employee,” Katya said.
“Everyone will fucking know it’s me!” Teddy said. His voice was high-pitched now. “I can’t give you a quote!”
“Well, it’s your call,” Katya said.
There was silence on the other end of the line. “What kind of quote do you want?” he said finally.
“I’d like a quote about whether this news, combined with the news of Casper Kim leaving, will in any way affect Gramercy’s potential funding of TakeOff.”
Teddy sighed audibly. “You’re killing me here, Pasternack.”
“Just doing my job, Rosen,” she said.
“Your job kind of sucks right now,” he said. “No offense.”
“None taken.” There was another pause. “So…a quote?”
“How about this,” Teddy said. “I give you a quote and you can attribute it to ‘someone with knowledge of the situation at Gramercy.’ Okay?”
“I can live with that,” she said. People who paid attention would know that it was obviously someone at Gramercy who had spoken to her, and if putting it that way was what tipped the scales to make Teddy talk to her, then so be it. Life was a series of tradeoffs. “So, hit me. What’s your quote?”
“Okay. Gimme a sec.” Katya waited. There was something about being able to have Teddy Rosen by the balls, even briefly, that she liked. He would probably become a partner at Gramercy soon, start pulling in millions of dollars a year, buy a condo in Tribeca, marry a beautiful blond publicist named Lauren or Whitney who would quit her job and have three perfect babies, and live happily ever after. This whole TakeOff incident would end up being a tiny blip, if he even remembered it at all after, like, a week. Maybe Gramercy would pull their investment in TakeOff, maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, life as he knew it would go on for Teddy Rosen.