… ‘scuse me, I gotta snee…” He quickly pulled open the neck of his sweatshirt and sneezed onto his hairy chest.
Jimmy pivoted away in revulsion.
“I always get the sniffles when the seasons are about to change.”
He pushed a bunch of paper napkins towards Carl.
“So, Jimmy, do you have any job prospects?”
“Not really. The only stuff out there are straight sales jobs; no salary, no pension, no medical benefits; just commissions on what you sell.”
Carl nodded. “You eat what you kill.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“If you don’t make any sales this week, that’s tough shit. It means the wife and kiddies don’t eat next week.”
“Right, and you’re not an official employee on the company payroll. You’re merely an independent contractor, the same as a real estate broker.”
“Those kind of fucking jobs are for the birds!”
“I agree.”
Ashley delivered Carl’s gin and tonic.
“Maybe I’ll start a tab, babe.”
“In that case, I’ll require a credit card.”
He took out a thick roll of bills. “On second thought, Ash, can you break a hundred?”
She frowned. “Don’t bust my chops so early in the evening, Carl, it’s going to be a long night.”
He peeled off a crisp $20 bill and slapped it on the bar. “Buy yourself a wet one too, Ash, while you’re at it.”
“Thanks, but they don’t allow us to drink on duty. I’ll get your change.”
He held up the roll so Jimmy could get a good look before putting it away.
“That’s too much cash to be carrying, Carl, you’re asking for trouble.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Cash makes me feel good.”
“Hmm.”
You gotta remember, Jimmy, it wasn’t so long ago I had only lint in my pockets.”
“I remember.”
“Yeah, the same as you, I was kicked out by my firm too.”
He drank from his beer bottle, making no comment.
“I can guess what you’re thinking, Jimmy, that I was fired over rigged stock trades. It’s what you heard; right?”
“Something along those lines.”
“Listen, I didn’t do nothing my bosses hadn’t approved up and down the line. When the regulators jumped all over us, they made me the scapegoat.”
“I see.”
He emptied the gin and tonic and wiped the corners of his mouth with his sleeve. “I was the one who took the fall and lost his securities license.”
“Hmm.”
“As you well know, Jimmy, shit only flows downhill on Wall Street.”
“Right.”
“And there are two sides to every story.”
“Uh-huh.”
He held up his empty glass and rattled the ice so Ashley would notice he wanted a refill. “And bring Jimmy a fresh beer too.”
“Thanks, Carl.”
“Anytime, Jimbo.”
“What kind of work are you doing these days?”
His lip twisted. “Eh, you might say I’m helping heavy hitters find investment opportunities.”
“Are they overseas investors?”
“I’d rather not go into any details, Jimmy, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, I understand.”
“I knew you would.”
“Your new gig, Carl, whatever it is, appears to pay very well.”
He slapped him on the back. “Oh, yeah, I got no gripes. You could say I’ve got it made in the shade.”
*
Stud Muffin
The twelve television monitors in the Bull & Bear all displayed the same message during the commercial break:
BUY WHEN THERE’S BLOOD IN THE STREETS!
Tuck Hobbs peered up at the nearest screen as he entered the bar. Hilda was interrupting the cable feed again, trying to project an optimistic outlook for the stock market so as to help her business. He wrinkled his nose; she should stick to selling liquor. His best guess was that the heavy bloodletting was still a few months away.
By the time he waved to Ruthie the message had changed to:
THE TREND IS YOUR FRIEND!
He agreed. The only problem was that the trend is down and trending lower; so investors should sell; not buy.
The next message materialized before he could turn away:
THE MARKET IS MANIC-DEPRESSIVE!
Tuck grimaced. His gut told him that he was M-D too.
He surveyed the large barroom, catching Jimmy Donovan’s attention to let him know that he’d arrived. Then he sat on a stool at the other side of the bar near a redhead with the most voluptuous breasts he’d seen in the last 48 hours. Busty women weren’t trustworthy but there was no denying that they turned him on. The bra strap on her back looked to be stretched to its limit and seemed like it might give way at any minute. If it did burst, he’d be quick to offer both his moral and physical support.
A few minutes later Jimmy came over and sat down next to him.
Tuck gave him a hug. “Love you, guy.”
“Likewise.”
“What were you doing talking to that Pizzi douchebag?”
“It’s a public place, besides, Carl’s not so bad.”
Tuck grunted disapprovingly.
Julia put his White Russian down on the bar in front of him.
Jimmy looked puzzled. “I thought you always drank Jameson neat?”
Tuck stirred the cocktail with his pinky finger and took a sip. “I did but this has milk in it and I feel an ulcer coming on.”
“Maybe the pressure is finally getting to you, Tuck, maybe you should kiss off Wall Street and get into another line of business.”
“Yeah, right, I could buy myself a second-hand cart and sell hot dogs and warm pretzels on the corner of Broad Street.”
Jimmy managed a reticent smile despite his depressed state of mind.
“Or better still, you and I might go into business together.”
“What would we do, Tuck?”
“Let me see, what skills do you have?”
Jimmy weighed the question. “Well, I’m a good listener.”
“Hmm.”
“And I take detailed, comprehensive notes at business meetings.”
“Ok.”
“And I also make a good first impression. That’s important, Tuck, because