[Chapter 853: Lucky Day]
Leo didn't attend the award ceremony, and the Oscars felt emboldened to toy with him. He better lay low, or else they might just keep that little gold statuette away from him forever.
As for William White, he was not someone to be trifled with. If they played their cards wrong, they would realize that White could shake Hollywood to its core.
Robertson Stephens was not a well-known name on Wall Street; in fact, it was just a small investment bank. However, its reputation among small businesses was stellar.
People constantly complained about monopolies, but the biggest monopolies were the investment banks on Wall Street. Firms like Morgan Stanley, Goldman Sachs, Lehman Brothers, and Merrill Lynch represented the pinnacle of the financial hierarchy.
But wait a minute, with so many firms around, how could there be a monopoly? If one didn't work out, they just went to another.
Not to forget, there was also a special group included in this scenario: Jewish bankers. The proportion of Jewish senior fund managers on Wall Street was incredibly impressive.
"What about Asian-Americans?" someone asked.
"Cough, you're mistaken. Sure, there are managers, but they're usually senior actuaries. Their income may not be low, but their actual power is pretty limited."
When it came to public financing, Wall Street had its routine. From accountants to underwriters, and ultimately, to the promotional roadshow, their fees were somewhat standardized. Unless unusual circumstances arose, discounts were rarely given.
The smaller the financing scale, the higher the cost generally was. For a company like Pixar, valued at hundreds of millions, offering 10% equity didn't amount to much. Those bloodsuckers wouldn't be interested unless they could snag a third of the pie.
"Steve, the big investment firms in New York have scraped the icing off the cake. There aren't many good bits left," someone noted.
"Letting go of Pixar would be their loss. Don't worry; we'll make this issuance work," replied Jobs confidently.
Jobs appreciated the compliment from the smaller firm. Despite its size, their proposal was solid. Besides, he had no other option. He could either reopen the financing window or go for an outright IPO.
"Sanford, those clowns are way too greedy. It's not just us; I heard NBC Online isn't happy either."
"I've heard that; it's no secret on Wall Street. I hear the folks at White Capital said if the underwriting price isn't reasonable, they might outright acquire an investment bank."
"Seriously? That guy hates investment banks, doesn't he?"
"Hate? Ha, ha! Did Mr. White say that? Well, this is all about balance. To put it simply, I'm okay with sharing the profits, just don't take advantage."
Jobs rolled his eyes, skeptical of the situation. To him, William White was too busy chasing women to worry about business. While it was true he didn't own an investment bank, his trust and fund companies were active in everything except stock underwriting.
Jobs had to admit he was quite fortunate; Robertson Stephens was very professional. Don't let its small stature fool you; they excelled in managing high-tech companies.
Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley looked intimidating, with tons of resources and eager investors following them. But from underwriting prices to stock valuations, nothing satisfied William White.
The rumors on Wall Street were no fluke. William White had previously stated that if they didn't understand, they ought to think it over again.
Morgan Stanley and Goldman Sachs dared to face off with Jobs but hesitated to contest White's unreasonable demands.
Those impending IPOs had investors too, and if the pricing really reached the levels White suggested, even they would have to bow their heads and learn their lesson.
It was a lucky day, and Jobs was feeling quite fortunate. If Goldman Sachs did help him underwrite, his pockets might take a major hit.
As for William White, he was also experiencing a stroke of luck; he had just welcomed another daughter. Although he felt a bit down about it--his ex had such a big belly, and yet the tiny girl looked like a little kitten.
"Wow, barely over seven pounds! Doctor, do you think we should double-check? I still have a feeling there's another one."
"That jerk! After I labored for six hours, you're still not satisfied? If there really is another one, it'll be a nightmare!" Nastassja exclaimed, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in her voice.
While people often thought men preferred sons, the reality was different. Most women, in fact, dreamt of having sons. This ratio was significantly higher than that of fathers desiring daughters.
C-sections were a bit easier, but nurturing a new life was no simple task--anyone who experienced it could confirm that. Rumors circulated that men who accompanied their wives during childbirth risked developing ED.
While those rumors might not hold much truth, the possibility wasn't entirely implausible. Those with weaker minds probably found it to be a painful memory.
"Look at our daughter! Should we name her Janessa? She's just beautiful," Nastassja smiled.
"Whatever you decide; let me see her," White replied, as he gently placed the little girl beside Nastassja's pillow.
As Nastassja observed the wrinkly infant, she pursed her lips, seeming less than impressed with her own creation.
No wonder that jerk thought there could be another; the little one hardly took up any space at all.
Before long, a nurse ushered White out, reminding him that his daughter was due for feeding.
"Wow, with so many kids now, how am I going to manage them?" White sighed. Kids could be a real nuisance, but he figured by age eighteen, they would mature. If they faced a few challenges along the way, they might become real men.
A bunch of spoiled little princesses?
Good grief! If any of them were as troublesome as Paris Hilton, it would be enough to drive him wild.
Raising children is a challenge in any country. Kids born with silver spoons tend to easily lose themselves.
"Dear, what are you thinking about? You look stressed," Nastassja asked.
"You're awake! I was just contemplating what kind of education would be best. Honestly, I'd say my own education wasn't very successful," he admitted.
Nastassja shot him a skeptical look. Aside from his notorious womanizing, where did that claim of failure come from? Of course, Nastassja had no clue about the source of his anxiety. Having both lived through tough experiences, thoughts like these lingered heavily on his mind.
"Why worry about it now?" Nastassja asked.
"Of course! It's not like it's a son. If it doesn't work out, I can just be a grandfather earlier," he joked.
"Ha, ha! You really wouldn't admit defeat."
"Of course not! She's my own flesh and blood; she's not a bonus from a phone plan."
Nastassja chose to ignore him; she was still a little tired. This overthinking guy drove her crazy.
That's just how a player is; they tend to act without a care in the world yet expect only the best for themselves.
But hey, the little one was fine for now. With many years ahead, they would find a way to manage. If all else fails, maybe Athena could help out with private school.
With all the chaos of that night--feeding and diaper changes, combined with White's own wild thoughts--he looked like a haggard mess, surprising Nastassja.
*****
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