In the office, Jack handed David a folder and slid it across the table. On the cover was a name that still carried little weight on Wall Street: Netflix.
—What's this? —David remarked.
Jack looked up.
—The future.
David took a seat, intrigued.
—The DVD-by-mail rental company? —he asked—. I thought they were still losing money.
—They are —Jack replied bluntly—. I've been studying them closely. They have a new business model—one I believe is the future. They call it a monthly subscription. For a flat fee, you can rent unlimited DVDs, no due dates, no late fees. On top of that, they've implemented a recommendation algorithm that suggests movies based on each user's preferences on their website.
—Reed Hastings… Marc Randolph —David murmured—. Are you sure?
Jack nodded.
—I want to buy them.
David looked up sharply.
—Buy them… how?
—A majority stake —Jack said calmly—. Fifty-one percent. They keep forty-nine… and management.
David set the papers down on the table.
—That's not a traditional acquisition.
—I don't want it to be —Jack replied—. I don't want to turn Netflix into another division of Carter Capital.
—I want them to keep making decisions. They have a clear idea for now, but I think they can improve. I don't want to interfere too much—just give them better direction.
David leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.
—Wall Street doesn't usually leave the helm in the founders' hands after buying a company.
—Wall Street doesn't understand this kind of company either —Jack responded—. This is about habits… and time. Trust me, this is only the beginning. Websites are just the start. Physical stores will become a thing of the past. With the rise of the internet, everything will move faster—and we need to move with it.
David remained silent for a few seconds.
—Are you talking about digital streaming?
Jack smiled faintly.
—Not yet viable —he admitted—. But it will be. And when it is, I want to be in.
Jack knew that within a few years, streaming would become the standard for film and television distribution. Before that happened, platforms like YouTube would emerge—starting with a simple video filmed at a zoo and eventually becoming giants under the control of companies like Google.
In fact, Jack already had several engineers in Silicon Valley working on the development of a proprietary website, anticipating a model that hadn't yet been invented. After the dot-com bubble burst, many companies collapsed and thousands of software engineers were left unemployed; finding talent willing to work on something new hadn't been difficult.
With the right resources and a well-defined idea, all that remained was to wait for the right moment to execute the next step.
David exhaled slowly.
—Do you think they'll accept?
—If we present it properly —Jack replied—. We give them capital, stability, and freedom. And we make one thing clear from the start: Carter Capital won't sit in their offices telling them how to run their company. And if they refuse… then we'll do it ourselves, no matter the price. We'll crush them.
David nodded, slowly convinced. He picked up his coffee and took a sip before speaking.
—How much will we offer?
—Pay market value, with a five percent premium —Jack replied without hesitation—. They'll accept. They're losing money. And do it before next quarter. I don't want the stock to rise—I want to close the deal now, while they're still bleeding capital.
David set the cup down on the table.
—Understood. I'll take care of everything and have the lawyers start drafting the agreement.
Jack already had one hand on his jacket, ready to head out the door, when David's voice stopped him.
—Jack… wait a moment.
Jack stopped without turning right away. He glanced at his wristwatch out of habit, as if time were something he could measure even when he wasn't in a hurry.
—Is something wrong? —he asked, turning around.
David stepped out of his office with a hesitant expression. He closed the door behind him and adjusted his shirt sleeves—a gesture he usually made when he was about to bring up something uncomfortable.
—Yes —he replied—. Well… sort of.
Jack raised an eyebrow.
—It won't be if you decide to ignore it like the other times —David replied with a tired half-smile—. Just give me a minute.
Jack sighed softly.
—Fine. One minute.
David nodded and hurried back into his office. From the hallway, Jack could hear drawers opening, papers being shuffled, and the soft thud of a folder being closed.
As he waited, Jack looked around the floor: most of the employees had already left. The white lights of the administrative area were still on.
A few seconds later, David returned carrying a sizable stack of envelopes and documents. Jack looked at the pile and shook his head, amused.
—Let me guess —he murmured—. Invitations.
—Eleven —David confirmed—. And those are just from this week.
Jack took the envelopes with one hand and flipped through them with little interest.
—I thought we'd already agreed you'd handle this.
—And I have —David replied—. But there's a limit. It's starting to look like Carter Capital has a ghost founder.
Jack looked up, fixing his gaze on him.
—Is that what they're saying?
—Not in so many words —David admitted—. But they think it.
There was a brief silence. Jack looked back down at the envelopes, this time paying closer attention. They represented the countless invitations to banquets and social events addressed both to him and to Carter Capital.
Most of them came from figures in New York high society: influential names on Wall Street, old-money millionaires, and even a few local politicians.
After that year's Nasdaq event, Carter Capital was officially established, and the number of invitations multiplied several times over. Even so, Jack had never accepted a single one.
At most, he allowed David to attend a few charity banquets on his behalf—events organized by Carter Capital Charity—or certain official functions hosted by the New York City government.
David watched him in silence, the envelopes still in his hands, as if waiting for an explanation that never quite came.
Jack finally looked up and frowned.
—Don't look at me like that —he said, picking one of the eleven invitations at random—. It's not as strange as it seems.
He turned the envelope between his fingers, feeling the texture of the thick paper.
—The reason I didn't take part before was simple —he went on—. There was nothing to gain. Showing up would've just been exposure without purpose.
David blinked.
—Are you saying that…?
—That it's time to show those suits how things are done in Texas —Jack nodded, a half-smile forming—. From now on, I'll start showing up to these social events. Slowly.
David studied him for a long moment. Then a gradual smile spread across his face.
—I never thought I'd hear you say that.
Jack let out a short laugh.
Then, curious, he added:
—Let's start with this one.
Jack lowered his gaze to the name printed on the card. David leaned in beside him, intrigued.
—It's from the Hilton family —he said quietly—. Addressed to you personally. They're celebrating the fortieth anniversary of the Hilton Hotel in Midtown.
—That's strange. I've never spoken to any of them. Do you have any connection to their family? —Jack murmured.
—No, nothing that direct —David replied—. They usually invite a wide range of people from different circles. Their daughter, Paris, tends to mingle with a lot of socialites. If they're inviting you, it's because they expect you to show up… and to be seen with them.
—Well… I suppose I can go and make a little small talk.
—And these? —David asked, holding up the other ten invitations.
—I'll try to attend the ones that seem useful —Jack said—, but there are too many. I can't go to all of them—not even if I split myself in two.
—That's true —David admitted.
—Have you gone through them already?
—Yes —David answered honestly.
—Any that stand out as especially important?
—Not really. Just a few people looking for support from the city's new rich man.
—Then that settles it —Jack snapped his fingers—. Not that important.
Then he added:
—There will be truly crucial banquets in the future. When one of those comes up, pick it—and let me attend.
—All right —David said, convinced.
Just as Jack had said, once an American reached a certain level of status, invitations to banquets and social events arrived almost daily.
—Then it's decided —David said—. August twentieth, the day after tomorrow. The banquet at the Hilton Hotel. I'll go with you and help you identify the big players.
—Thanks, my friend —Jack smiled.
He knew David would accompany him partly out of concern: to avoid offending anyone… or to make sure he didn't end up cornered by an overly enthusiastic host.
Since arriving in New York, Jack had only ever observed those high-society events from a distance; he had never actually attended one. He came from a comfortable but rural family in Texas, where banquets of that caliber simply weren't part of life.
Having someone to guide him would make everything much easier, and David was more than willing to take on that role.
—It's a good decision —David said—. I don't have anything on my schedule tomorrow, so I'll take the day off as well. Mitchell will handle things.
Jack nodded. Mitchell Scott, the company's vice president, oversaw day-to-day operations: internal logistics, administrative processes, and coordination between departments, ensuring everything ran efficiently.
Jack and David, on the other hand, focused their attention on strategic investments and the decisions that shaped the company's direction.
At that moment, something vibrated in Jack's pocket.
—Your phone's ringing —David reminded him.
Jack pulled out his small Nokia. When he saw the caller ID, he realized it was his home number.
Without avoiding David's presence, he answered immediately.
—Hello? Mom…? Is everything all right?