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Henry took a large sip from the sixty-dollar bottle of wine he had ordered on Cohn’s credit card. “What does an SAT have to do with anything?”

“It’s a measure of aptitude, my young friend," Cohn replied from behind the smoke of his cigarette.

“First, what’s the job?”

“Show me you have the aptitude for the job, and I’ll tell you what the job is.”

“Fine. Fourteen-ninety.”

Cohn nodded. “Verbal?”



“I just made it easy for you. You do the math.”

Cohn laughed and tapped an ash out in a tray. “Seven-sixty, I suppose it would be.”

“So, what’s the job?”

“I’m starting an online fertility clinic.” Cohn exhaled a cloud of smoke between himself and Henry.

“How can a fertility clinic be online?”

“Let us say, the presentation is online,” Cohn explained with a confident smile and a spread of his hands in the air before him.

Henry took another gulp of wine and felt the first buzz from the alcohol. “Fine. What’s the Web address?”

“Still to be decided. In fact many aspects of the business plan are still to be decided. Right now we just need intelligent, good-looking young people like yourself to help us get there.”

Henry had stopped eating and drinking and now leaned back in his upholstered seat. “How can you get ‘there’ if you don’t know where ‘there’ is?”

Cohen exhaled slowly into the atmosphere. “Knowing where you’re going is so Old Economy.” A tap of an ash. “Taking your opportunities as they come: that’s New Economy!”


“But that’s neither here nor there, Henry. Here’s the offer: free room, board, and a small salary. Plus ten thousand stock options.”

Henry finished his first glass of wine as a waiter approached with his salad. "What’s the salary?” He nodded at the presentation of the grinder for the Caesar. “And when do you plan to go public?”

Cohn stubbed out his cigarette and intertwined his fingers after resting his elbows on the table. “I hardly think a man who’s flat broke and stranded in Vegas should be asking questions like those.”

Henry finished his first nibble of greens, then fell back against the upholstery of his seat and sighed. “Fine. I’m in. Where we headed after this?”

s.t.u.d. by W.R. Hammons:

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