Queen Takes King 2009: Jackson Grunted

Queen Takes King

Jackson Power grunted as he rolled over in his Pratesi sheets.
“Cynthia” Jacks reached his long arm out for her. Nothing. His wife was already gone. What the hell time was it Two things Jacks didn’t like–waking up alone, and going to bed alone. He sat up, his barrel chest bare over his pajama bottoms, and ran his blunt, manicured fingertips through his famously full, deep brown mane. He glanced at his pillow, checking for hair loss–not a man left behind. Jacks Power versus Father Time Another TKO. But enough. Where was Cynthia Pacing in the living room The gallery The library (Not the kitchen–never the kitchen.) Fussing over lunch plans Shopping expeditions The season’s big society event How would his wife top last night’s extravaganza He couldn’t imagine–but knowing Cynthia, she’d figure it out. He glanced at the Louis XV giltwood stool, beneath last night’s tux and Cynthia’s beaded ivory gown, all of it crumpled and spent. Valentino, Cynthia told him, not that he gave a shit. The dress was expensive and Cynthia looked expensive wearing it. That was all that mattered. Would Cynthia ever wear it again Probably not. But imagine his triumph when the dress found an eventual home–tax deductible of course–in the Met’s costume exhibit. Life was good. Jackson Power was the top developer in New York–translated, The World (not according to his critics). Jackson Power was the biggest single developer of multifamily housing in the United States (a lie so complete it seemed almost true). Jackson Power was worth $6 billion (according to the Forbes 500 list–notoriously full of lies).
Jackson Power didn’t give a rat’s ass, like some of his colleagues, about affordable housing. Manhattan, in his view, was not supposed to be affordable. Let New Jersey be affordable let Queens be affordable. Manhattan was the Powers’ province (inarguably).

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