Chapter 5: That's The Last Thing I Need

February 1, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

"Still OK to come over tomorrow night?" Ellie asked as I pulled up in front of her dorm early on Tuesday morning.

"Yes," I replied.

After I stopped, she leaned over and kissed me, then grabbed her bag and hopped out. I waited until she went into the dorm, which she did after waving to me. As I headed towards North Michigan Avenue, I considered the situation with Ellie. Nothing really had changed from my perspective, and, ultimately, she'd chosen to continue our relationship. I'd given her a straight answer and made sure she knew exactly where we stood, so I was confident there would be no false hopes.

I arrived at the office and, as usual, made a fresh pot of coffee, then after reviewing the overnight news, sat down to write my daily report. The world continued to be relatively calm, though there were still US Marines in Beirut, the Soviets were still in Afghanistan, and rhetoric from the Reagan Administration against the USSR was strong.

I finished my report, put it on Mr. Matheson's desk, then took some time to review my portfolios. Just after 9:00am, the receptionist, Anne, called to let me know Bill Wyatt was in the lobby. I went up to 30 and met Mr. Wyatt, who had filled out all the documents, so all that was needed was my signature and the date on each. After I signed, he put the copies into an envelope which already held the listing sheet, the appraisal, and a list of comparable houses and their sales prices. I thanked him, shook his hand, and went straight to the Personnel office.

"Hi, Jonathan!" Haley said, greeting me.

"Hi. I need to fill out a Spurgeon mortgage application."

"Do you have your sales contract?"

"I do, along with some other things my real estate agent said you would need — the listing, an appraisal, and a list of comparable houses which sold recently."

"Perfect! You're basically one step ahead. Most of the information we'll take straight from your file. Did you list all your previous work experience on your application?"

"I did."

"Do you have an attorney?"

"I do. I'll give you his card."

"Then really all you need to do is give me the documents, sign a form, and you'll receive an answer from Mr. Spurgeon no later than Monday of next week."

"That fast?"

"You're on the pre-approved list. That happened when you brought in that large account. That means all I need to do is run a credit check and so long as there isn't anything negative, it's done. If there is something negative, Mr. Spurgeon will speak to you about it. You've never filed for bankruptcy, right?"

"Correct."

"And no court judgments against you for failing to pay a debt?"

"None."

"Then, with the caveat that I can't commit Mr. Spurgeon to anything, I'd say you're in very good shape. Once you receive approval, I'll provide you with a loan commitment letter, and the funds will be available fourteen days from the approval date. We'll just need to know the exact amount the title company needs for the Cashier's check. Your attorney can work with the real estate agent and seller's attorney to sort that out."

"Thanks!"

She went to the filing cabinet, returned with a file folder, and took a form from her desk drawer. She put the form into her typewriter and quickly typed in my name, address, social security number, the address of the house, and the sales price, along with both Bill Wyatt's and Nelson Boyd's addresses and phone numbers. She had me review it, I signed and dated it, then handed it back to her.

"See you at lunch today?" she asked.

"Yes."

I left the Personnel office and returned to my desk, where I placed calls to Nelson, as well as my CPA, Robert Black, and let them know about the contract for the house. Nelson promised to get in touch with Mr. Wyatt to contact the seller's attorney, and Mr. Black asked for copies of the documents once the purchase was complete.

I spent the rest of the morning reading news, research reports, and financial newsletters. I had learned in my first seven days in my new role what a torrent of information was available and why Mr. Matheson needed three analysts. There was simply no way he and the other traders could even begin to read and assimilate everything.

Tony, Paige, and I distilled the tsunami of information into single-page analyst reports that summarized the key factors that would affect the markets that mattered for the FX Desk — equities, fixed income, commodities, and currency. The entire process made it abundantly clear the disadvantage to retail investors — a person who was trading on his own through a stock broker — even if they understood all the concepts, it was simply impossible for them to gather, assimilate, and act on the data that was available.

The other major advantage that professionals like Mr. Matheson had was dealing directly with other trading desks and floor brokers. That, combined with the volume of trades, especially in FX, meant being able to negotiate prices and terms rather than making 'at market' trades. That access had helped me buy and sell the Bolivar contracts and options, as Mr. Monroe had received the order and simply made a phone call to someone who dealt directly in that currency.

Similarly, my gold and silver contracts and options had been transmitted to Kristy's dad on the floor of the CBOT — the Chicago Board of Trade — where he'd completed the transactions by talking to a counterpart with another firm. A retail investor would need to go through a personal broker, which would add an additional layer and wouldn't get nearly as good a price. The difference might be an eighth of a point on a stock or bond or a tenth of a percent on a currency trade, but in the volumes Spurgeon traded, that could be hundreds of thousands of dollars of extra profit. Quite often, the spread between the price Spurgeon could get and what a retail investor might pay was enough that profiting from simple arbitrage was common.

Fundamentally, I had been invited into an elite and exclusive club. I'd been able to get my foot in the door through my uncle's friendship with Noel Spurgeon, then taken advantage of every opportunity to get to where I was. The key now was to prove I had the chops to make decisions rather than recommendations. I'd prove that by the returns in my Cincinnatus Fund as well as Jeri's trust fund, which, unfortunately, had to be segregated. That meant, given the constraints on the trust fund, that I couldn't take advantage of the total capital I was managing the way I could if the funds were unrestricted.

That said, if my bets on gold, silver, and the Bolivar paid off, and the stocks for which I had recently gone long or short moved as I expected, I'd have enough money to take larger positions, and that would improve my chances of big scores, though it would also open me to large potential losses. I would certainly make mistakes, and the key was ensuring that I recognized the mistakes and got out of those positions with speed and finesse to limit the losses.

Just before 11:00am, I received a call from Johan Maus, the Nexis pre-sales engineer, who urged me to see a demonstration of their system at the University of Chicago, where the research library had a subscription. I conferred with Mr. Matheson, and he authorized me to agree to the demonstration, then report back. Johan did his best to get 'the decision maker' to be at the demo, but I made it clear that Mr. Spurgeon would only agree to see a demo once I had validated their system. After checking his calendar and offering several dates, we agreed I'd meet him on February 18th at 1:00pm at the University of Chicago in Hyde Park.

"The house seems nice, at least on paper," Haley said when we sat down in the break room on 29.

We could use the break room in my work area rather than the Support Services break room on 30, as Personnel wasn't restricted from socializing with the 'professional staff' the way Mr. Nelson's Mailroom, Security, and Information Services teams were.

"It needs work," I replied. "If you read the contract, they have to replace the boiler before the sale completes, the floors all need to be stripped and sanded, the walls need minor repairs and need to be painted, the appliances are that hideous avocado green from the early seventies, and I suspect the water heater will need replacing, and the central air will need servicing."

"Don't you think that's normal for a house built eighty years ago?"

"I do, though the current owners let some maintenance go, which, had they done, might have garnered them a higher price. Though, given what other houses are selling for, maybe not. It's hard to sell with interest rates where they are."

"What will your mortgage payment be? I don't actually get to see that information."

"Just over $700 on a fifteen-year mortgage. Taxes add another $100 or so."

"And you have roommates now, right?"

"Two. They'll move with me, and Jack is moving in as well."

"So, really, your monthly outlays are pretty small."

"There are also utilities, ongoing maintenance, and so on, but with four roommates, it's easily affordable. And when the time comes, I plan to form an REIT and rent it out. Ultimately, I'd like to own several houses, two-flats, or four-flats for the income."

"That's a very Chicago thing to do!"

I nodded, "I first heard about that from my firefighter friends but then read about it in the local papers. It's fairly easy to make a profit if you can find properties to buy and have the capital to make the necessary down payments. Rents easily cover your costs, and you gain equity."

"What happens if you decide to get married?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it; well, unless that's a proposal."

Haley laughed softly, "Not today, anyway!"

"Good, because today, I'd have to say 'no'."

"But in the future?" Haley asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Ask me again in the future! We're still getting to know each other."

"I have a question about something I don't quite understand."

"Go on," I said with a smile, suspecting what she was about to say.

"You've been the 'perfect gentleman' to an extreme. Why?"

"At first, because you work for Spurgeon. Remember, I was wary of even going out with you because of that."

"And now?"

"You still work for Spurgeon," I replied.

"Seriously?" Haley asked, voicing it as an objection.

"Remember what we discussed about getting involved?"

"I do, but didn't everything change last Monday?"

"My leeriness about dating anyone who worked for Spurgeon didn't change with switching sides of the equation. When I was working in Support Services, the benefit of the doubt would have gone to Rachel if she'd complained. Now, the benefit of the doubt goes to me, or, if we're honest, I would prevail by default. That's the true source of the problem now, and I suspect strongly you've seen that happen."

"Sure, but doesn't that put you in a position to change your opinion?"

"I don't like the system," I replied. "And that's why I want to stay out of it. That said, I'm also not willing to write off a relationship with you."

"So then what?" Haley asked. "I find a new job, and you'll suddenly be a different person?"

"No, I'll be the same person, but the circumstances will be different, and it won't give the wrong impression."

"You just explained everything in that one sentence," Haley observed. "You think the other licensed professionals will think you're one of them! And you don't want to be thought of that way."

"That's especially true, given they all know about Rachel Kealty. Do you want them to all think you're behaving like the secretaries?"

"No, of course not!"

"And yet, what will happen if people know we're involved?"

"It's too late for that, I suspect," Haley said. "Nobody but Support Staff or Personnel saw us in the break room on 30. Here, anyone on this floor, which includes six Suits, as you used to call the fraternity you're now part of, has certainly seen us have lunch together, not to mention the Christmas party."

"You're right, of course," I replied. "Jack obviously knew we were seeing each other beyond the party but would never say anything."

"So if the cat's out of the bag..."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Do you think I could change what anyone here thinks? Ask Anna about that."

"Sending me to talk to the Swedish girl seems like a bad life plan if you think there's a possibility of a future together," I teased.

"The same rules would apply to her, right?" Haley asked.

"Except you're sending me to her to change my opinion, so if she does, there's a risk!"

"You are SO full of yourself!" Haley declared, but she was laughing.

"Except she made it clear she'd be receptive to me asking her out," I replied, "so I can be sure."

"But you turned her down?"

"For the same exact reason, I was wary about going out with you. You didn't disagree, actually, because you made the point about finding a new job if we became serious."

"But now you seem to be saying that I have to get a new job before we can be serious, but there's no guarantee we'll be serious if I get a new job. It seems like a Catch-22, or at least betting heavily on an uncertain future. If that was the case, why even start seeing me?"

"First of all, if you recall, I said 'no' several times and told you why. You were persistent and talked me into the Christmas Party date. And then pressed for another date. I'm not complaining, by the way, just reciting the sequence of events. Each time, I told you my concerns, and you acknowledged them. Now, you're asking why I started seeing you?"

Haley frowned, then nodded, "I did pressure you."

"I'm a big boy and could have said 'no'. I didn't feel pressured, but you were incredibly persistent. Don't get me wrong, I like you, and I'm attracted to you, but I shouldn't have bent my rule. Well, broke it if I apply it to all Spurgeon employees, not just secretaries and professional staff."

"Are you saying you don't want to go out on Friday?"

"I don't know what I'm saying, actually," I replied. "You would agree it's a good rule, given the shenanigans that go on around here, right?"

"I think I'd make it more nuanced and say that supervisors shouldn't sleep with their underlings. That's the real problem. You don't have any real power over me, the way a trader has power over his secretary, or any secretary, for that matter. Or analyst."

"I was fairly certain they were hired for the brains."

"And I was hired for my body?" Haley asked.

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I meant they weren't targets in the same way."

"You might look a bit closer and revise your theory," Haley suggested.

"I'd rather not and just take your word for it. Somebody has to put a stop to it."

"Which is why you have your rule. Lead by example, as it were?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"I don't think it'll stop until Noel Spurgeon retires, if even then. Well, unless the government cracks down, but for that to happen, someone would have to make an employment claim, and those are notoriously hard to win."

"Not to mention the payoffs and non-disclosure agreements," I added.

"I think I understand a little better now. Let me think about what to do, OK?"

"Of course," I replied. "Just make sure you do what's best for you because I'm in no position to make any promises."

"I think part of it is that I keep forgetting that you're only twenty. Most people in your position would be twenty-five, at least. A few rare ones are twenty-two or twenty-three. You're the youngest licensed securities professional in the history of Spurgeon."

"What about Friday?" I asked.

"I think it's best we cancel," Haley replied. "At least until I figure out the right course of action. Going out will only frustrate me because there's basically an uncrossable line. And the more I think about it, the more I see your point, even if I don't like the end result."

That meant I'd need a date for Friday, and given I'd thought of Miranda when I'd spoken to her dad earlier, I wondered if she'd be interested in going out. I knew Lily was busy, and I'd be seeing her for dinner in a week, and I didn't want to send the wrong message to Ellie. I had a few hours to think about it, so I didn't have to decide right away.

"That makes sense," I replied.

"You aren't seeing anyone serious enough for me to be concerned, are you?"

"No. As I said to one of my roommates, barring an Apolonia/Michael Corleone style lightning bolt, years."

"I know that's a Godfather reference," Haley said, "but I actually never saw it."

"Basically, Michael Corleone is hiding out in Sicily after being involved in a mob hit and sees a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl, and that's all she wrote for him."

Haley laughed, "Older guys do like their teenagers!"

"I know a teacher at Goshen High who married a former student not long after she graduated. He was thirty-four."

And the weird thing was, I hadn't thought of Mr. Kingman and Kimberly when Bev had told me who she'd been with, nor had I thought about it when I'd seen him at the school. I had no clue if Mr. Kingman and Kimberly had been together before she graduated, but it seemed logical they had.

"When was that?" Haley asked.

"About six years ago, when I had just started High School."

"When did she have the baby?" Haley asked.

"That was the rumor that had tongues wagging, but their first kid was born when I was a Senior."

"Was he allowed to stay a teacher?"

"He's still teaching science at Goshen," I replied. "I actually saw him when I was in Ohio to be with Bev at her hearing."

"How is she?"

"Not good," I replied. "I'm doing what I can to help, but the situation is a mess and until she figures out what she wants, all I can do is to be supportive."

"But you might end up with her?" Haley asked.

"It's possible, yes, but at this point, I wouldn't say it was likely."

"Because of her or because of you?"

"It's such a mess that I can't even rightly say," I replied.

Which was why I was really looking forward to my lunch with Anala.

We finished our lunches, Haley went back to 30, and I went back to my desk. I wasn't thrilled with the situation, but I felt it was best. Had she not mentioned other reasons for looking for a new job, I might have made a different decision, but then again, I might not have. The last thing I wanted was for the secretaries to think I was playing the game, so to speak. I wasn't and wouldn't.

About an hour later, just before 2:00pm, the phone rang.

"FX Desk, Kane."

"Jonny, it's Bev. I made it safely to St. Louis."

"OK. I put the check in the mail yesterday, so you should have it by Thursday at the latest."