Page 74 of False Start

I blanch.

"But he seemedfineyesterday. Not at all like he was so close to the edge." It's an open secret that most of the guys on the floor have drug problems, but no one's everdied.

"Hewasfine," Silva mutters while hiding his face with his mug. "He was managing, at least. But word is the client wanted to try some new designer drug, and it must've interacted with whatever else was in his system."

"Shit," I curse. Because what else can you say?Work hard; play hardis practically the trading floor motto, but no one's ever lost control like this before.

"So what does this have to do with Andrew?" I ask. "You acted like he needed protection from ball busting that hedefinitelyearned."

Silva slides closer and lowers his voice even further.

"Andrew was there last night. He recommended the bar. It was his friend that brought the…party favors."

"Fuck," I gasp. "If that's true, he's in some serious shit."

"Yeah, no kidding," Silva agrees, turning back towards the floor and adding sugar to his coffee.Yuck. "My guess is detectives will be here to question him by lunch."

I let out a breath, still shocked.

I've known Bergman since b-school, when he never did his part of the Financial Accounting assignments and got so drunk during graduation he had to be escorted across the stage. Despite giving off a decidedly creepy vibe, he was married with, I think, at least one kid. Like most of the traders, he was a raging asshole, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die before he even hit forty.

"Park! My office!" Robert yells at me from across the floor. I snap out of my morbid thoughts and make my way over.

"Yes, sir?" I greet him, closing his office door behind me. Robert, impeccably dressed as always, is staring out a wall of windows that looks onto Hanover Square.

"I take it from your little gab session with Silva, who I know youhate," he says with a smirk, "that you heard about Bergman?"

"Yes, sir," I confirm, taking a seat in one of the armchairs facing his desk.

"That means his spot on the team handling the Monarch portfolio is open."

I stay silent, even hold my breath. Robert turns to face me.

"How would you feel about stepping in as his replacement?" he asks, finally moving to sit at his desk.

My mind is racing. I practicallybeggedRobert to put me on the Monarch team last year, and Bergman got it through sheer nepotism; his father is on their board. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but…Can I really justtake this role? Bergman dies on Wednesday and I email the client team on Thursday? That's vicious, even for Banks Ripley.

"I see those wheels turning, Park," Robert interrupts. "Bergman was a good man, but he's gone now. The show must go on, as they say."

Goddamn!There's cold-blooded, and then there'ssociopath.

"Stop thinking so hard," Robert blusters with irritation. "Either you take it, or I call in the next name on the list." He points to a stapled set of papers on his desk. "I figured you'd be chomping at the bit after last year, though."

I try to ignore that it took Bergman's death before Robert was even willing to give me a shot, and that I'm still just another name on a list.At least you'reonthe list, the devil on my shoulder whispers. The circumstances suck, but maybe I should take this chance to finally show everyone what I can do.

"I would be honored, sir," I answer.

Robert's smile is like an alligator baring its teeth, and I immediately feel sick.

"It'll take longer hours," Robert warns. I stand to shake his hand. "And it will only be on a probationary basis, pending final approval from the client."

I drop my hand.

"Probationary basis?" I ask.

There's no way I heard that right.No waydo I still have to audition after all the shit he put me through during the last selection process. I barely slept for amonth, and Bergmanstillgot the spot! I mean…May he rest in peace.

"Yes," Robert answers, looking bored. "Client-team relations can be tricky and we want to ensure it's a good fit."

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