The New York Observer has a fun piece about wealthy New Yorkers whose circle of friends consist mainly of people they pay. Apparently it's easier than real friendship because money makes everything better. Or something.
In any case, what caught my eye was this passage (emphasis added):
But one evening, I found myself at a dinner party seated next to the glamorous ex-wife of one of New York's most enigmatic commodities traders, noted for his custom suits and contraband supply of Cubans. Having received a lucrative divorce settlement, she was more than willing to open up about her ex-husband's assortment of paid friends. In fact, after I artfully plied her with Avión and an orange twist, she couldn't seem to talk about anything else.
"Everyone, and I mean everyone, was on the payroll." She played with her chestnut-size South Sea pearls. "When we first started dating, I was annoyed that so many people were always around. But I learned that powerful men all have posses."
So who is this enigmatic commodities trader? We have a couple of hints. Divorced, expensively. Smoker of cigars, Cuban. Known for custom-made suits.