Big Deal

by Soraya May

  Can you talk to your boss about it? You said he was a smart guy. Is he hot?

  1)yeah, he’s a smart guy, but I don’t know, 2)yes very very hot but you shut your mouth. That is not what this is about.

  Haha. Suuuure. Okay, go talk to him.

  I don’t know.

  Do it! Go straight to the top and sort things out. Say what you feel; that’s the Ronnie way of doing things, remember?

  Yeah. It was.

  Honey, if you’re honest and upfront, things will always work out for the best. You always told me that, and you were right. I almost lost the most precious thing in the world to me - my Will - because I didn’t take your advice. So go and do it.

  I think for a minute.

  Yeah, you’re right. Thanks Em. I should go. Talk later, babe xx

  I straighten up and flick my phone off. The attendant, who’s been hovering purposefully this whole time, decides to swoop.

  “Can I help you with those, ma’am?”

  Oh, what the hell. I’m going to need good shoes to go and confront my boss—my very attractive boss, who I would quite like to kiss—and tell him that what he’s doing is wrong. “Yes, please. I’ll take both of these pairs. I’ve got a job to do.”

  13

  “Okay, let’s go over the model one more time so we’re all clear on who’s doing what. Tomorrow, we start taking positions in the market to make this happen. That means real money, and once we start, we can’t stop.” I look up from my sketchpad at the team seated around me. “I know some of the technical aspects are pretty different to things we’ve done before as a team, so I think it’s really important we’ve got a strong knowledge of how our parts interact. Mike, can you sketch some of this stuff on the whiteboard, please?”

  “Sure, boss.” Mike jumps to his feet, and walks across the room, fiddling with the whiteboard pens as he does so. Everyone else is engrossed in the notes I prepared, and I start to talk through the points again.

  “Everyone, the success of this bond issue is going to come down to launch day. The first four hours in the market will make it or break it. If it goes up, we’ll be responsible for the greatest market coup of the last five years. If it goes down, well, it ain’t going to be pretty.” A crowd of somber faces greets me.

  “Billy, can you investigate the data processing part? I know we’ve tried this before last year, and it didn’t make any damn difference, but we’ve all seen how the market’s changed since then. If we do find something useful there, then it’ll be something other teams won’t be looking for, which is why I think it’s worth trying.”

  Billy nods. “Yeah, fair point. I’m still pretty skeptical that I’ll find anything, but I agree we should look every so often, and I can just reuse the code I wrote last year anyway.”

  There’s a knock at the door, and Ronnie comes in without waiting and sits down next to me. Damn, those are nice shoes. My gaze travels from her shoes, up her stockinged legs, and I find myself momentarily wondering what’s she’s wearing underneath that dress. When I get to her face, I realize she’s looking straight at me. The room is quiet for a second.

  I cough. “Right. Who’s next?”

  We work through the rest of the parts of the deal piece by piece, and by the end of the hour, everyone’s tired, but I’m reassured that we’re all heading in the same direction and we all know our places.

  “Okay, everyone, that’s enough. We’ve covered a hell of a lot this morning, and you all know what you need to do. As of tomorrow, Walters Capital gets into the market, and the wheels start turning. Let’s go!”

  As people are filing out, I see Ronnie in her chair, not making a move to leave. She’s got her pen in her hand, but she’s not writing; she’s just staring at it, turning it over and over in her hand. I swivel my chair and look at her.

  “Something wrong, Ronnie? You didn’t say much in this meeting.”

  She looks up at me, blue eyes trained on my face. I’d never realized quite how piercing they are before; the dark line around her irises makes them stand out, and it’s hard to look away from her.

  “Yeah. Dr. Macaulay—”

  “Tom, for heaven’s sake, Ronnie. Tom.”

  “Sorry. Tom.” She takes a breath. “Tom, I’ve been doing some more reading, and I’m beginning to understand a lot more about the consequences of this deal.”

  I smile. “Good, that’s really important. We need to think not just about the next move, but the one after that. So the more we think about what happens afterwards, the better.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. If we go ahead with this, and people buy into it, this bond is going to skyrocket in value, right?”

  “That’s the idea, Ronnie. You issue something, people want it, it goes up in value, you make money.”

  “I know, but—” She pauses. “There’s a feedback effect, right? As our bond goes up in value, other things are going to go down. Specifically, small-fund mortgage-backed securities are going to drop like a stone.” She starts shuffling her papers, looking for something. “See, I’ve done some research, and I’ve found at least four examples—”

  I cut her off. “Ronnie, I believe you. I’d never actually thought about it, but yeah, they are. But, neither Walters Capital nor any of our clients have any position in that market, nor in any related markets. So it was a good observation on your part, and it’s definitely worth reporting on, but it isn’t something we should worry about.”

  “Tom, it’s not our team I’m worried about. It’s the people on the other side of the deal.” She pushes a piece of paper across the desk toward me. “Look, this analyst’s report; eighty percent of those funds are owned by small investors with a net worth of less than 100K. Those people won’t see this coming.”

  I think carefully for a minute. “No, you’re right Ronnie, they won’t. And,” I lean back in my chair and cross my legs, “I guess you’re concerned about what will happen to them, right?”

  She sits bolt upright. “Yes, I am. Those funds will plummet in value, and the people who hold them will lose a lot of money. Some of them will be wiped out.”

  “Ronnie, I understand your concern, I really do. But the loss of that money won’t affect the rest of the market. Those funds are a tiny proportion of what’s at stake here; trillions of dollars go past our door every week, right under our noses, and our job is to dip our hands into the river, and take just a little bit out. Besides,” I push my chair back, and spin around on it hands in the air, “it’s part of the merry-go-round that makes this crazy job so fun. You never know what’s going to happen, that’s the best part.”

  She frowns at me. “Tom, that’s not the part I’m concerned about. I’m concerned about the small investors who are going to lose money if we go ahead with this deal. What happens to them?”

  “Ronnie, I understand.” I’m aware that I already said that, but I need to get this across to her. “We’re not stealing their money, you understand? We’re not investing in conflict diamonds, or exploiting people, or buying subprime mortgages from people who can’t feed their children. This is an open market, and if people lose money as a result of their own decisions, then even with the best intentions in the world, we can’t do anything about it.”

  For a moment, I think about Philip, sitting outside my office, writing stories into the night while his mother works.

  “But we can do something about it. We can change this deal, or call it off or something.” She clasps and unclasps her hands on the table, and for the first time I realize that her knuckles are white.

  “That’s not reasonable, Ronnie. The people you’re concerned about; well, they need to take care of themselves. Everyone’s an adult, and if you play this game, then sometimes you lose. We’ve lost in the past as a result of other people’s actions, and that’s just how it goes.”

  I take the piece of paper she pushed at me from the table, and fold it in half. “Besides, we have our own people to think about.” I gesture at the door. “Billy, Mike, the res
t of the team—most of them have families, remember? This is a nonstop business, and we need to make it a success for them. I need to make it a success for them. Sure, I’m the boss, and I have authority over them, but with that authority comes responsibility.”

  “They’re all rich. It’s not like they need more money.” She doesn’t say it with a dismissive tone, but something about the look on her face sparks my frustration.

  “Ronnie, no-one here is as wealthy as you think they are. Sure, we’re doing okay, and better than a lot of people. But that doesn’t mean we don’t need to keep moving forward, playing the game.” I try to keep my voice steady, reassuring. “Look, I know the trainee program goes on about how cutthroat this business is, and they’re not wrong. But that’s not how I run things in my team. We aren’t just a team, we’re a family. And one of the things about family is that you look after your own.”

  “And the other people? Who looks after them in this game of yours?” Now she’s backed into a corner, but she won’t let it go.

  “Ronnie, that’s not my problem, okay? If you think I’m going to risk the livelihoods of my team because some people I’ve never met have made the wrong investment decision, you’re wrong. That isn’t how this works. If you’re not playing to win, you’re playing to lose. And I don’t play to lose.”

  She stands up, and I have to get a hold of myself as I watch that slim figure ripple all the way up in one movement. “You still think this is a game? All you can see is the world directly in front of your nose.”

  “Look, I don’t have to explain this to you. I don’t pull rank, because I don’t like it. But the reason why I’m in charge is that I’m responsible for the wellbeing of the people in my team. If you don’t understand that, you’re going need to grow up if you want to play this game to win.”

  This was evidently the wrong thing to say at this point.

  “Grow up? You can’t see anyone’s needs but your own. You tell yourself you’re doing this for others, but the truth is you’re just doing it to because you like it. You don’t need to do this. You just want it so you can be a winner, again and again. You don’t care how this hurts other people.” Now she’s directly in front of me, eyes flashing. I should try and calm her down, but I’m pretty fed up with this.

  “Look, I am not required to explain myself or my decisions to you, Ms. Haas. One day you will look back on this and see the sense in what I’m saying. But for the moment I would like you to get on with your work.”

  She says something I don’t understand in Dutch, which I assume isn’t very complimentary, turns on her heel, and walks out. I listen to the door slam, then tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling.

  I need her on the team, and she’s the key to pulling this deal off. But what the hell does she want me to do?

  14

  “Ronnie.”

  I look up, and he’s there in front of me, infuriatingly well-groomed and sexy in his expensive suit. Behind me, Abby snickers quietly into her folder of papers.

  “Yes?” I deliberately don’t look at his eyes, and try to be as curt as possible without actually being rude. Another folder thumps down on my tiny desk, piled high with printed reports.

  “Our sweeps of new journal publications picked these up this morning. I’d like you to read through them, and tell us if there’s anything we need to know about. You’ve got the right knowledge, and we need someone to keep an eye on the research while we’re working on this deal.” His tone is even, but I’m determined not to look at him.

  “Sure, Tom. I can do that. When do you want it back?”

  My eye line is fixed on his tie. It’s purple and blue silk, and it’s perfectly knotted; it must have cost a lot of money. I wonder if he ties it himself, or if he has someone to do it for him? Maybe a robot. There’s the faintest of sighs from above the tie, and an upraised hand comes into view.

  “It’s not urgent. Maybe the day after tomorrow? If there’s anything really critical, I’d like to know earlier, thought. Can you talk about it in the team meeting on Friday?”

  “Sure.” I try to count all the threads in the tie. It’s a long job, and I’m only part of the way through when Tom speaks again. “Let me know if you have any questions, okay?”

  “Sure, Tom. I’ll do just that.” I look down at the folder and pretend to be engrossed in it. He reaches out a hand as if to touch my shoulder, then pauses. I try not to notice, and try not to think about the electric feeling I got the last time he touched me.

  “Hey, Tom—uh, Dr. Macaulay!” Errol calls from another desk. Tom looks up, and grins, withdrawing his hand.

  “Hey, Errol, what’s up?” In just a few days, Tom’s easy charm has won over Errol and Adam, and now they chat to him like buddies, which irritates the hell out of me. Everyone else thinks he’s so damn likable.

  “We were watching the video of your time-series data visualization talk from last year, and you showed this forced-perspective…” Their conversation trails off in my ears as I drag the pile of papers from where Tom put them down over in front of me, and flick through them. “Machine Learning Approaches in Quantitative Finance: A Review.” Great. Sounds really exciting.

  In an effort to put off reading, I stare at the top email in my inbox. It’s from Dana Garvey, the reporter. For the last three days, the whole firm has been getting automated emails from news organizations, fishing for information.

  Dear Walters Capital employee,

  If you have any information on the Macaulay Bond issue you would like to share, please contact me by reply to this email.

  Yours, Dana Garvey

  I click the Delete button; I might not be happy about what’s happening here, but there’s no way reporters are going to help the situation.

  After a few minutes I hear a hissing sound behind me. It starts and stops periodically; I do my best to ignore it, until it grows steadily to become a constant ‘ssss’. Sighing, I push my chair back, and roll it backwards, hard enough to bang into Abby’s desk right behind me.

  “Abby, either there’s a gas leak, or there’s a snake loose in the office, or you want to get my attention. Which is it?”

  Abby is undeterred. “How’s working with Dr. Sexypants?” At this point, Tom is about ten feet away, easily close enough to hear, especially with the conspiratorial volume of her whispering. I attempt to thwack her with a rolled-up auditor’s report, and miss.

  “Shut up! This isn’t appropriate.” She cackles under her breath.

  “No, seriously, how is it? You were up there all last week, right? Did you get to spend,” she waggles her eyebrows, “alone time with him?”

  “Abby, it’s really not like that. Not even a bit.”

  “Isn’t it? Not even a bit?” She spins her empty coffee cup on her desk, and looks at me disbelievingly.

  “No, it’s not. He’s a self-centered ass. Sure, he seems nice enough in conversation, but…oh, look, just take my word for it, okay? He really isn’t all that.”

  She picks up her coffee cup with a theatrical sigh and drops it in the trash can next to her. “Just like that, another dream dies.”

  “I’m so sorry, Abby.” I clasp both hands over my breast and assume a long-suffering expression.

  “Next you’ll be telling me he doesn’t look as good as that close up. Even if he is an ass.”

  I think for a moment. He looks really good, and even when he’s making me angry, I’m still thinking about what it would be like to feel his mouth on me.

  “Well, okay, he does look pretty good in that suit.” But he thinks you’re a spoiled child, and he’s dismissed your opinion already. “But all the expensive tailoring in the world isn’t going to save a man if all he cares about is himself.”

  Abby shakes a fist. “Right.” She raises her voice. “Down with arrogant men!” Luckily, the only men in earshot are Adam and Errol, squabbling quietly over an equation on the space between their desks. They look up with hunted expressions. “Sorry, guys. Not you. Just, uh, go ba
ck to whatever you were doing.”

  I snort and turn back to the pile of papers I’m supposed to be reading and summarizing for Tom. I need to do a good job of this, just this once. Then I’ll have a proper job, and I can get on with being a grownup. It’ll be easy.

  “Hey, uh, Ronnie?” Errol leans over the side of his chair, and for a minute I worry that he’s going to fall out. “Do you think you could, uh, put in a good word for me with Tom? I mean, I’d really like to get to do some of the cool stuff you guys are doing, and it’s just…”

  “Sure, Errol. I think he’d be glad to have you, I really do.” Or Adam. Or anyone except me.

  15

  Coming out of the lift, I turn a corner, and nearly run into Phillip. He’d stopped sitting outside my office while he was waiting for his mom a few days back. “Hey, Phillip!” This time I try to be as cheery as I can.

  He looks down at the ground, but evidently he’s been brought up not to ignore people when they greet him. “Hey.”

  “Look, man, I’m sorry I said the stuff I did, okay? I didn’t know about what happened with your mom and dad. It sucks when people lose money, and I’m sorry I said it was just a game.”

  There’s a pause, and he plays with his pen while he looks at the floor. “Okay.”

  I guess that’s about all I’m going to get in the way of acceptance of an apology, so I run with it. “Look, if you’re okay with it, I’d really like to read the story you’re writing. When it’s ready, I mean.”

  “You would?”

  “Sure. It’s been a while since I’ve read much science fiction, but I’m always keen to discover, um, new writers.”

  He looks doubtful. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

  “I’m not, man. Honest. You know a lot of people just say things to be polite? I’m not doing that. I promise.”