Two damaged people with the inability to trust anyone can ruin anything. We came close but flew home to routines including both of us in one place more of the time. Ethan expanded his meagre friend network to include Adam Donavan, our building super. At the end of October they trekked to the local sports bar to watch the Yankees sweep the Padres in the World Series. “Can you believe it,” I quipped, “their second title in three years, and their twenty-fourth overall.”
“A closet fan! I’ll take you to the ticker tape parade.”
When loving repartee replaced our rants I could concentrate On the Ciao!Beauty front. The shredder ran high speed, I was back to scrambling, staff meetings, and follow ups with Cannes clients. The holiday crunch kicked into high gear as I balanced gift shopping and gift selling.
Ethan patched together 1999 pitching gigs, but sat out more than he played. Cannes boosted visibility which boosted sales. I convinced Mr C to visit perspective clients for the extra touch. Dustin perfected his pitch and I often travelled with him.
Impending Y2K computer disasters loomed over business world. Might ascending numbering assumptions be short-circuited? Programmers had misunderstood the Gregorian calendar rule which would surely throw it off and us into chaos. Maybe.
Meanwhile Macy’s sales failed to meet projections for the first half of the year. I worked with our Macy’s West buyer Abdul Maliki, a mathematical genius with a photographic memory. “Tick tock, tick tock. Time is money. Call me back when you have the numbers,” was his mantra. I used his stats at the next weekly staff meeting and developed an invaluable relationship. Per usual, the executive team went over P&Ls, revenues, marketing, and sales status. As we closed our folders Mr Christopoulos stood. “So the year is ending and I get no younger. I have an announcement I am feeling proud to make.” The entire group exchanged glances.
“My nephew Carmine Isgro will join my family business. My sister’s son; like my own. He must jump on board to learn all aspects of how we do things and someday take over the company. This Y Two K worries me. I want him to be not so new if we are in for the big problems when the Millennium arrives, so I choose now.” He glanced at each of us. “Before this magic year two thousand, Carmine starts as manager of operations.” The team assured him Carmine would be welcomed and well trained to ensure Ciao!Beauty’s upward path. We also left the room still glancing at one another, eyebrows raised.
Chapter Thirteen
Three weeks later we welcomed Carmine and designed sessions that laid out years of knowledge he’d never get from college courses. He appeared attentive and sincere, asked about the unfamiliar and dressed the part in well-cut suits, stylish ties and shoes. He arrived on time, contributed to staff meetings and fired up our expectations. Although I guessed him to be in his early thirties,
I considered him young and green rather than a contemporary of Jennifer, Dustin or me.
Mr Christopoulos took me aside at our annual holiday party, well into the eggnog. “You are deserving full credit. I put my faith in you as the one Carmine will turn for such employee situations when I’m gone.”
I’d had a few eggnogs, as well. “Gone! Mr C!”
“Ah, no one lives forever but I’m meaning gone from the company. I must pace myself. My heart affects my stamina. Our dance in Cannes? My knee still complains.”
“You’d looked just as handsome with a cane.”
“You flatter an old man.” We clinked glasses.
New Year’s Eve 1999 included Millennial celebrations in all five boroughs. Ethan and I avoided the frigid frenzy, stayed in, playing in the kitchen and bedroom. “Here’s to the two losers who ended up on Fifth Avenue. Who’s Laughing now?” he asked as we waited for the Y2K meltdown that never materialised. Self-doubt and low self-esteem still flared like a match stuck against sandpaper but we worked at recognising the triggers. Ethan started the new year networking and landed a job coaching Iron Hills High School baseball in Clay, New Jersey, between South Orange and Newark, a school district most professionals avoided. Unlike baseball hopefuls with skills to shove them forward, few of his kids could counteract their abuse, poverty and dysfunctional home lives.
“I get it,” Ethan said the day he signed on. “Maybe more than any other adult in their lives, I totally get it.” Within weeks he was elected to the community task force developing positive examples through athletic programs. This therapeutic chance to make a difference through baseball lifted his anxiety. As he gave one hundred percent to the kids, I knew he’d set a positive example in sports, loyalty and sportsmanship. I didn’t know women’s calls would fill our landline.
“That’ll be Rosalie or Nicole,” I muttered over a rare dinner together. “Single mothers working full time only get the athletic department voicemail after work. Some have told me it’s the first they’ve been able to get through to anyone in charge.”
“Rosalie gets through a lot.”
“Don’t go there, Emma. Using our landline number puts everything in the open. For school and for you.” He took the call in our home office.
Nikos Christopoulos kept his word and loosened his grip. He showed off his snazzy gold-tipped cane and paced himself in the office. His complex corporate structure included several Long Island interests outside the beauty business, but only on a need to-know basis for my team and me. In September he put his Carmine in charge of them, somehow convinced he’d acquired the expertise to make changes. The more adept and comfortable Carmine became, the more he shed his I’m here to learn persona and reminded us he would carry on his uncle’s legacy.
Mr C now scheduled an annual October conference following the Cannes Luxury show. Our nation-wide sales field, office staff, and executive team attended morning and afternoon training and job-related sessions. A gala dinner highlighted employee awards and Ciao! Beauty creations. I suggested our 2000 event further integrate Carmine into the mix and let it be known Putting On the Ritz style celebrations were my specialty. For visuals to exemplify Carmine’s internship and input, I hired Thomas Schuman. I hadn’t seen him since the Guggenheim launch, but he was the freelancer to wander our headquarters and provide paparazzi style collage shots. Privately my team called the project NNBT, Nephew as The Next Big Thing, but we stopped short of over-the-top shenanigans. Our sophisticated evening, Schuman glossies included, went off without a hitch, thrilling uncle and nephew.
One late afternoon November Sunday, Ethan and I strolled home from the Oak Room through Central Park. He put his arm around me. “Why so distracted?”
“Carmine, Carmine, Carmine. I’ve set up round table discussions for him tomorrow morning. Half the time he barely makes eye contact. The other half he’s tossing out-of-line comments. The more time the uncle spends out of the office, the crasser and more self-serving the nephew becomes. He’s morphing into an egomaniac. The rest of the company needs to know.”
“Babe, forget needs to know,” my street-smart husband said. ”The old man’s brought in young blood and for sure Carmine’s got his own agenda. Watch your back. Arm’s length for this asshole.”
Carmine wasn’t snorting coke or stuffing his pockets with Tootsie Rolls, but Jennifer, Dustin, and I recognised the Brian Cox aura as the narcissistic manipulator stacked the deck in his favour. Thank the fragrance gods my team could focus on cosmetics without his interference but by the holidays some of our prestige stores retailers worried Ciao!Beauty was moving backwards in terms of brand-building strategy. Dustin suspected the goal was control of the bank accounts as Carmine used the last quarter to show his uncle what a hot shot manager he was. The scourge of 2000 was not Y2K, it was Carmine F. X. Isgro.
In early 2001, Carmine installed giant televisions in several locations. Fox News ran all day unless Uncle Nikos was in. Then Carmine switched to Stock Watch on the Business Day channel and stared. One afternoon when I asked a staff member where my boss was, she cupped her eyes. “Mr C is watching his nephew pretend to comprehend intelligent financial television.” Mr C, cane in one hand and occasionally on my arm as well, still whistled down the hall, but “That Carmine! Such a fast learner,” squeezed my heart. In February he approved several of Carmine’s cronies for unnecessary positions with high salaries and no explanation as to responsibilities, or company value. Worse still, our CFO and COO politely resigned citing better opportunities; other talented executives followed. “Where is the loyalty? Once you are in this company, you don’t leave.” Mr C’s concern over their departures outweighed any apparent doubt over the replacement. Sooner than I thought possible I reported to Mr C with his nephew as CFO and COO.
Carmine called his team The Cabinet and often referenced the President and Executive Branch of our government, but barely understood economic policies, foreign or domestic. Their newly licensed brands required large investments that eroded the bottom line. Beauty business growth slowed. We were neither as successful as predicted, nor as profitable as pre-Carmine days. Nevertheless, he insisted our other companies showed massive profit under his direction and convinced his uncle to put all divisions in one place. Voila! The Isgro Agenda became reality. He renamed the merged units Kinetic Inc. and took control of the operation in early May.
From three-piece suits, to hoodies with backpacks, men (always men) of all stripes crossed our threshold. Family members or Carmine’s cohorts replaced most senior executives. Department heads now reported directly to him. He created ‘Governor at Large’ for his uncle. Mr C, not naïve enough to hand over his life’s work to someone barely beyond apprentice, remained in the passenger seat, but president and CEO Carmine F.X. Isgro was at the wheel.
Despite his chummy gaggle of confidants, our inexperienced pilot still needed a seasoned professional on board. Given my profitability-improving track record and Mr Christopoulos’ insistence, I was the only one with approved control of the company’s healthy assets. Suddenly the pragmatic nephew emulated his uncle’s admiration of me. My employment felt secure but it was Marsha Johnson-Brian Cox déjà vu all over again.
Paranoia runs rampant in the fragrance industry and Carmine’s matched mine. He included me in monthly meetings, furtive monthly meetings held on a different floor of the Empire State Building. The Cabinet grew to eleven older, wiser men who ultimately controlled the money. I sat at the table, rarely spoke, always smiled. I realised they were diverting our brands to the Middle East, and South America, mainly Colombia and memorised as much as possible. Like our competitors with larger resources, Kinetic, Inc. needed my legitimate company face as someone trusted to impress domestic and global markets.
After a March meeting, Carmine entered my office with a Rolex box and asked for my help. I reopened my briefcase.
“No, no. You’re doing a great job and all, but it’s the girlfriend. You’ve seen her around the office. Tall, blonde, Romanian? Looks like a Sports Illustrated swim suit model.” Who hadn’t? They stared at the TV together.
He opened the box. “Her birthday’s tomorrow. A beauty, am I right? Over ten grand.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” I replied.
“It’s engraved To my sweetie. See, if it don’t work out I use it on someone better. Genius, right? She needs to know I spent a shitload so let’s add – Prada purse, LVMH luggage? Maybe Gucci boots? Whatever just no Canal Street knock-offs. She needs to know it’s legit goods.”
“You could run over to Madison—”
“Nah. Doll, it’s gotta be you. You wear the real deal. You got that look; you know the goods.” He picked up my photo of Muriel Beausoleil and me. “Buy her something classy like this babe makes. I need it in the office first thing tomorrow so yous better get going. Thanks,” he said to the Rolex. “And pick up a birthday card. I’ll sign it myself.”
Bimbo shopping? Put Emma in her place oozed from him. I closed my briefcase furious with his arrogance and unnerved by his familiarity with my desk.
Friday, he assured me the Prada purse had been a hit. “So glad,” I said. “Time for lunch? I’m meeting your uncle to discuss our employee celebration. We could use your input.”
