Thank You, Mr Cohen
Stephanie stepped elegantly out of the taxi, and with a shake of her head throwing back her long, blonde hair, walked to the front where she handed the driver three $20 bills.
“That’s all right,” she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the skyscraper while the driver uttered “Thank YOU, lady,” under his breath.
Walking through the door, she approached the desk smiling broadly at the young woman sitting behind it.
“Mr Cohen is expecting me,” she said.
“Which Mr Cohen?” the girl asked.
“Forty-third floor, tell him Stephanie is here”.
“Oh yes,” said the girl, he called down ten minutes ago. Go straight up”.
“Thank you” she said as she strode toward the elevator.
Her husband wouldn’t have been happy to see her give the cab driver such a big tip. Well, she thought, in half an hour she’d be rich, and she could trade him in, the same way she had traded in her previous two husbands.
The elevator went up at lightning speed to the forty-third floor, and she had to restrain herself from bouncing like a gazelle as she walked down the corridor to Cohen’s office. She knocked on the door and it was opened by a young woman.
“Come in”, she said.
Cohen was sitting behind his desk, looking up he said to his PA: “Go to lunch, Sonia”.
“It isn’t eleven o’clock” yet, the girl replied.
“Go to lunch and be back by 2 o’clock”.
“2 o’clock?”
“Yes, after I’ve finished with this young lady here, I have an appointment across town”.
“Right”, the girl said.
“If I’m not back in time, I’ll phone you and you can go home”.
“Right”, said the girl, slightly confused but happy, and left the room.
Stephanie smiled and held out her hand as Cohen stood up.
“I don’t shake hands with blackmailers”, he said.
She smiled again, “Now Mr Cohen, that is no way to treat someone who is doing your biggest client a favour”.
He bent down as if to pick up something then flicked a black attaché case onto the table. Laying it down, he yanked it open then turned it toward her. It contained 15 packets of $100 bills sealed by the bank.
Stephanie smiled nervously and trembled slightly; she’d never seen so much money in her life and never dreamt she would ever possess it.
As she moved forward, Cohen opened the top drawer of his desk, taking out a single sheet of paper and a black biro. He handed both to her without a word; she scrutinised the agreement carefully, then putting the paper on the table, crossed out something and added something over it. Cohen was confused, and he was even more confused when she picked up two of the packets and handed them to him.
“Your commission”, she said.
“What, no...”
“I insist, and you wouldn’t want to offend me, would you, Mr Cohen?”
He thought for a few seconds, then tentatively reached out and took them. “Well, I suppose I am entitled to a little extra”.
After a short wait for the elevator, Stephanie was back on the street outside the building and about to hail a cab when a young black woman walked up to her with a look of surprise on her face.
“Oh my God, is it you?”
Stephanie stopped in her tracks. “Excuse me,” she said.
“The model, the famous model, Stormy Daniels, is it you?”
Stephanie smiled, she loved being recognised, although it didn’t happen so much now she had left her youth behind.
“Yes”, she said.
The word was hardly out of her mouth when she was grabbed from behind by four strong hands, two on each arm. Instinctively, she held onto the attaché case and uttered “What the...”
“Stephanie Clifford alias Stormy Daniels, you are under arrest” came the reply from a female voice behind her. As her assailants moved forward, Stephanie could see they were both women. Then a man walked up in front of her and held out a warrant card.
“Stephanie Clifford alias Stormy Daniels, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“What...?”
“Do you understand the rights I have just read you?”
“No, what am I under arrest for?”
“Extortion, blackmail, and bribery”. At this point, the woman holding her right arm released her and yanked the case out of her hand. As Stephanie turned around she saw Michael Cohen walking towards them. He held out the two packets of banknotes and said, “Here they are, Sergeant”.
The plainclothes officer took them, and producing an evidence bag from his pocket, inserted them and sealed it.
“Can I offer you a lift?” the officer asked.
“No, I have to meet Mr Trump. We should be at your headquarters in about an hour to make our statements.”
“Fine”, the officer said, “okay Miss Daniels, let’s go”.
By this time, Stephanie was confused, and allowed herself to be led to the unmarked police car that had drawn up behind the male detective. The black woman walked up to Cohen and said, “Did she really, you know, her and Donald Trump?”
“Of course not,” he said, “he met her in 2006 and posed for a photo or two with her, but people do that all the time, men as well as women. People like to be seen with billionaires, and Mr Trump is a kind soul.
“How kind?” the girl asked?
Cohen laughed, “Have you met Mr Trump’s wife?”
“No,” she said.
“Melania was an international fashion model, and one of the most beautiful women in the world. She’s still a looker today, and she has brains, she speaks five languages.”
“Five?” said the woman.
“Yes, and they had only been married a year when this porn actress claimed to have had a one-night stand with him. There is no comparison.”
“I guess not”, she said, “I have to go now and fill in my report; see you at the arraignment”.
“Right” said Cohen, “now I have to go and meet the future President of the United States. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”.