The agency occupies the top three stories of a five-story brownstone in downtown Manhattan, so we have exclusive access to the roof, a convenient escape that offers a view of historic surroundings and fresh air—as fresh as Manhattan air gets. A place to hang. On nights like tonight, it’s an after-work gathering space for us kindred spirits.

Got to get to the bank first, down on Canal Street. I grab my attaché and catch a cab on Second Avenue. “Canal and Broadway,” I tell the driver. “Wait for me, okay? I’ll be in and out in a flash.”

“Sure,” she says, and off we go.

Thirty minutes down and back, and I’m on the roof in another fifteen. Ramon’s already there with a handful of other agency types, each one with a beer in hand from various coolers downstairs.

It will take an hour or so for me and Ramon to be left up there, alone.

Chapter 4

Tough night. Couldn’t sleep. Since when does this kind of stuff get to me?

Now I’m in the kitchen at three a.m. when my wife, Jean, comes up close behind me and puts her arm around my waist.

“You okay?” She’s asking because I’m never like this. I’m the calm at the center of the storm.

“Yeah, sorry. Had a crazy day. Crazy good, most of it. Worked late, you know? No big deal. Just need to unwind.”

She heads back up to the bedroom and I look in on the kids, stop by the bathroom, pop a rare Xanax and shuffle back to bed, reminded again that I am part of a wonderful, loving family. A gift.

I crawl in under the covers and the love of my life slides over next to me.

“Honey?” She’s not convinced I’m okay.

“Don’t worry, baby. Got this important interview tomorrow at lunch, great opportunity, a job I really want.” Little does she know how much I need this job.

“Anyway, I can hang in here a little later in the morning.”

She’s already asleep again.

The alarm erupts at seven a.m. and it feels like I’ve been struck by lightning. Shower, shave. Pull on some selvedge denims and a cashmere sport coat, both black, out of the closet along with an Essex multi-check lavender shirt and the hand-painted tie I bought down in the Village.

First impressions are important. Never thought of myself as a slave to fashion, but this is the advertising business and I’m headed for a critical interview.

The office doesn’t expect me in until early afternoon, which means I have time for a rare breakfast with the kids before Jean takes them to school. A second cup of coffee with the New York Times and I’m off to the train station.

I’m about to experience the kind of day that most people could never imagine, not in their wildest dreams. Or nightmares. Neither could I.

Chapter 5

The 8:57 Hudson Line express from Croton-on-Hudson into the city gives me enough time to make a quick stop and grab one more cup of coffee downstairs at Grand Central Station, so I can get focused on my meeting with Kaplan.