Page 28 of The Broker

“No, you’re dreaming about your rate.” Explaining to Ardy why this deal with his daughter fell through should be easy now. “I looked at rates in this area, and most places don’t charge more than twenty-five bucks.” I spoke with the same direct tone I used when executing trades. “I’m doing you a favor; I’m not donating tocharity.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I guess I could do it for thirty.”

“Twenty-five,” I reiterated.

She committed the cardinal sin of negotiations when she dropped her arms, and a look of desperation overtook her face. She was letting her emotions drive the conversation, which had no place in our business discussion.

“Those other companies won’t do as good of a job as I will.”

Maybe she was right, but she sounded pouty, and that was the moment I knew I had won.

“Twenty-five is as high as I’m willing to go,” I said flatly.

She glanced at the door to my bedroom like she was thinking about walking away, but I could practically see the thoughts inher mind. She needed this. I had all the leverage here, and she knew it.

She sighed with reluctance, although it felt forced. Like a production. As if the number she’d hoped to land on was twenty-five all along. “All right.” She pushed off the counter and walked forward. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

I’d thought she was going to stop when she reached me, but she blew right past and marched into my bedroom. It left me feeling weirdly off-balance. “Don’t you want to shake on it?”

“No.” Her voice faded as she left the bedroom. “I’ve got too much work to do.”

I held up my end of the deal, staying tucked away in my office and out of Charlotte’s way as she got to work on the kitchen. As I read up on the markets and scrolled through financial subreddits, I could hear her moving around on the other side of the house. There was faint music, water occasionally being run from the tap, and the hissing sprays from a squirt bottle.

After she’d left my bedroom, she’d gone back to her car and brought in all her supplies, and then come into my office to show me a checklist on her phone of what she planned to do. I appreciated how organized she was, especially since she’d never done this professionally before.

“I watched some videos on how to start a cleaning service.” The corner of her mouth quirked to the side. “If I’m going to do something, I want to be good at it.”

“I can relate to that.” Her ability to disarm my filter struck again. “That’s why this first month at Warbler has been kind of stressful.” I made a face. “Stressful is probably too strong a word, but this has been quite the career shift.”

She slid her phone into the pocket on the side of her leggings and peered at me with curiosity. “Yeah, I was wondering about that. I know my dad’s big on collecting people from wherever, but how does a stockbroker end up as Warbler’s VP of Booking?”

“A valid question.” I chuckled. “I grew up around the music industry. Really, my whole family did, because my dad got his start as a roadie and dragged us all over the place when he could. He eventually worked himself all the way up to tour manager, and after high school, my brothers and I would work for him sometimes too.”

I didn’t tell her about the friction it caused with my family when I decided to go to college. It had nothing to do with me getting an education or choosing a different career path. My parents supported that completely and understood I wanted more than late nights, hauling heavy sound equipment around, and living on the road.

It had everything to do with me moving to New York, moving so far away from them.

My family was tight-knit and resistant to change.

“My dad’s last job before he retired,” I continued, “was with Warbler. He told Ardy—your dad—I was planning to move back and maybe looking for work, so he reached out.”

“Maybelooking for work?”

“I still trade, and I’m pretty heavily invested.”

She nodded like she understood, but I got the feeling it was an act.

The truth was, at my current position, I had enough in my portfolio that I could retire in ten years—as long as the market didn’t tank, and I didn’t fuck up and take too big of a loss. I liked being aggressive and I liked winning, but I always did my research before making a risky buy.

And while I could possibly live off my investments, I knew things could change in the blink of an eye and nothing was guaranteed. Plus, I was thirty-six, so I wasn’t mentally ready for retirement. I’d get bored, and that? It could become abigproblem. With time on my hands, I’d want to chase the dragon, to find the perfect stock that would net me millions.

I had to stay busy.

“I like research,” I said, “and negotiations and working with people. Maybe I’m not a perfect fit for the role, but your father was willing to give me a shot.”

Charlotte’s gaze trailed over the black, geometric bull figurine on the bookcase behind me. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” she said. “He’s usually pretty good at finding the right people.”

She left me in my office and got to work, and I spent the next forty-five minutes trying to pretend she wasn’t out there in my kitchen, close enough that I could call to her and she’d appear.

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