Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Brooks scoffs before taking a sip of beer. “If you’re a dark horse, then I’m Suzy Fucking Sunshine. Your résumé would make Jerome Powell jealous,” he says, referring to the current head of the Federal Reserve. “No one would bet against you. Except us.”
Ian, a cockswain-turned-syndicate-VP, enters the bar, along with Nicky. While I didn’t get to row with either of them in college—I graduated before they ever went to Duke—we’ve all become friendly, thanks to the tight network of former crew members in the finance world.
Ian wags his eyebrows. “I hear somebody’s already making waves on the floor.”
“You’re just glad it’s not you pissing people off today,” I shoot back, pulling him in for a hug.
“It’s nice to have someone share the spotlight every once in a while,” he says. “I can’t be the bad guy every day.”
“Does Nora Frasier hate you too?”
He purses his lips thoughtfully. “Actually, we get along pretty well. Her client list is stellar, and she always gives us huge orders on new deals. A good bit of reverse inquiry too.”
“Total rockstar,” Nicky says.
Porgeous elbows him. “Your crush on her is cute.”
“What can I say?” Nicky shrugs. “I’m inspired by powerful women.”
“‘Inspired’ is a nice way of putting it,” I bite out, turning to Ian. “So she’s tight with her clients, then.”
“Very,” Porgeous says. “I know they’re disappointed every time I answer her phone.”
“Good thing I’m tight with them too,” I reply, my grip tightening on my now-empty glass. “No one does more client-facing trades than me.”
Ian rubs his hands together. “This is gonna be good. You and Nora, a fight to the death.”
“She’s going to be like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill.” Nicky lets out a whistle of appreciation, stars in his eyes. “I can’t wait to see her dominate.”
“What’s her deal?” I ask, trying to sound like I couldn’t care less. “She comes from money. Clearly doesn’t have to worry about what she’s got in the bank. Why does she want MD so bad?”
“Same reason you do,” Brooks replies. “She wants more.”
“I get wanting more. But there’s gotta be—er, more to it than just more.” There always has been for me.
Ian tilts his head. “You’re asking a lot of questions about Nora, man.”
“Do you have a crush on her?” Nicky asks, setting down his beer.
I hold up my hands. “Just trying to get the scoop on my competition.”
“Speaking of scoop.” Porgeous stands, still looking at the brunette. “I’m going to make a friend, if y’all don’t mind.”
“Remember what your mama said,” I warn.
He grins, patting me on the chest. “I’ll be good.”
“No you won’t,” Nicky says. Still grinning, Porgeous heads for the high-top.
“You do know you’re supposed to be colleagues, right?” Brooks says to me. “You and Nora. As in, workers who cooperate to achieve a shared goal. Not competitors.”
“In this business, coworkers are competition.”
“Fair point,” Ian says, tapping his glass to mine. “Whatever the case, you’re the clear frontrunner to win, just like always.”
“That’s not true.”
At least it hasn’t always been true. Guys like Brooks and Porgeous and Ian—they come from wealthy, connected families. I didn’t. And that put me at a serious disadvantage when I started my career. I didn’t have an uncle who could guide me through the grueling I-banking interview process. I didn’t rub elbows with managing directors at the country club my parents and grandparents belonged to, and I was never taught how to tie a tie or write a thank-you note, or properly eat oysters at wildly expensive steakhouses.
Hell, I didn’t have access to the kind of cash required by every New York landlord to cover first and last month’s rent when I moved to the city after I graduated from college. I slept on Brooks’ couch for the first year of my career until I could save enough to pay for my own bedroom. Not an easy task when I was sending home the majority of my paycheck every month, which I was happy to do. Mom and Dad always needed the money more than I did, especially after making huge sacrifices to send me to a private high school they definitely couldn’t afford.
Now that Dad is gone—he passed suddenly from a heart attack six months ago—Mom and my sisters need me more than ever. I want to give my sisters what my parents gave me.
Still, I don’t like thinking about what I’m giving up to be back here in North Carolina after an incredibly successful stint in Manhattan. Charlotte is a major finance hub—little-known fact—but nothing compares to New York and all the opportunities there.
So I don’t think about it. I need to focus on making the most of my new position anyway so I can get paid and do what needs to be done. If that means showing this Nora Frasier chick who’s boss, then so be it.