Thursday, November 13, 2008
WAITING
David hated waiting. Even in the supermarket waiting for his wife David would become restless and look for ways of amusing himself sneaking boxes of Durex into unsuspecting shoppers trolleys unnoticed. An Economics degree and wealth came easily; after all this was David’s niche, it wasn’t work. Where friends had married, found employment and accepted the rat race as the norm David had siezed an opportunity in New York making a name for himself as an aggressive dealer of futures. ‘You make your own luck in this world’ he would tell anyone who would listen, ‘if you want something you just gotta go and take it’ was David’s motto.
His second wife had pleaded with him to wait a year or two until they had started a family but ‘you’ve got to strike while the irons hot’ he’d told her without an ounce of emotion.
The nineties were a boom time and David couldn’t wait. It was profitable bringing in amphetamines cheap from the UK for the inflated US market, they were hedonistic days and the money just kept rolling in with David at the center of it all. But boom times don’t last forever, economics should have taught him that much. With his Court case set for Christmas, David would just have to wait.
David hated waiting. Even in the supermarket waiting for his wife David would become restless and look for ways of amusing himself sneaking boxes of Durex into unsuspecting shoppers trolleys unnoticed. An Economics degree and wealth came easily; after all this was David’s niche, it wasn’t work. Where friends had married, found employment and accepted the rat race as the norm David had siezed an opportunity in New York making a name for himself as an aggressive dealer of futures. ‘You make your own luck in this world’ he would tell anyone who would listen, ‘if you want something you just gotta go and take it’ was David’s motto.
His second wife had pleaded with him to wait a year or two until they had started a family but ‘you’ve got to strike while the irons hot’ he’d told her without an ounce of emotion.
The nineties were a boom time and David couldn’t wait. It was profitable bringing in amphetamines cheap from the UK for the inflated US market, they were hedonistic days and the money just kept rolling in with David at the center of it all. But boom times don’t last forever, economics should have taught him that much. With his Court case set for Christmas, David would just have to wait.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Looking Down
1.
Peering down from his kitchen window David could see the first ominous decaying signs of autumn’s impending arrival. It was a bright, early September morning on Lexington Avenue, an affluent address on Manhattans much sought after Upper East Side and its position, lodged neatly between Central park and the East River, meant it felt the chill quicker than most.
It was early, his second wife Jayne, tall, blonde and every bit the trophy wife, was still sleeping though Manhattan had long since roared into life. Its rush hour traffic growled past impatiently sending cascades of brown red leaves dancing and scurrying in its wake through the crisp morning air. A knock at the door snapped David out of his morning daze
‘Just a second’ he shouted realising he couldn’t answer the door in his shorts.
‘Shit’ he cursed spilling coffee up his arm in his haste to find some clothes.
‘Who’s knocking at this time of the morning?’ Jayne groaned shielding her eyes from the light that now poured into the bedroom
‘How do I know’ David snapped scrambling his feet clumsily into his joggers whilst half hopping half walking to the door. The knock came again this time with force and determination. David stopped dead in his tracks this was no ordinary knock; this was a knock that meant business.
2.
Blexhiem Bros. was a corporate giant, one of the biggest Stockbrokers in New York and David, like most, started at the bottom. The Blexhiem offices were located in a grand imposing Gothic stone building on Lincoln Plaza. Walking through those revolving glass doors on his first day dollar signs quickly replaced pound signs in his wide glazed eyes, the whole place oozed success.
‘Here, follow me’ a voice called from reception
‘You must be David, you’ll be working here, this is your phone and phone book, give me a shout when you’ve earned me some money!” He looked around. There were people everywhere on phones. Pacing backwards and forwards arms waving frantically, some crouched on the floor, others feet up on desks all barking angrily like a sea of hungry geese. David learned fast, the more calls the more leads the more leads the more money it was a numbers game and no place to make friends. In the boiler room (as it was known) the weak were killed and eaten.
Roger Bellson sat along side David. He was mid forties but with a face looking long past retirement. David had taken to arriving at six am to catch the West coast markets early and Roger always ran in at eight.
“Anyone biting?” Roger would ask, desperately hoping for leads like a fisherman scouting the best pegs. David would lie, not wanting to share whatever markets he had his net in. Rodger had a certain desperation to his style that screamed ‘I got the bank breathing down my neck give me a break!’ When Rog’ left at night David would still be there to siphon what ever leads Rog’ had made. He knew it was curtains for Roger anyway, he didn’t earn enough and Blexhiem carried nobody so who was he hurting? It was the law of the boiler room.
One morning Rodger didn’t show, his desk was empty and new blood was brought in to replace him, David felt nothing, after all business was business.
3.
David and Jayne moved into the prestigious Barbizon Condominium on the corner of East 63rd Street and Lexington some eighteen months later. They viewed the fourth floor corner apartment and fell in love with it immediately. It wasn’t just a fabulous home it was a status symbol. The address alone told people you were a somebody.
“Oh my God David, can we afford this?” Jayne had squealed spinning round in her little girl style.
“ Oh I think we can just about manage it” David winked understanding that the ‘we’ meant him. “Blexhiems been pretty good to us of late” he continued smiling and hugging her as she fell into him in delight, understanding that the ‘us’ meant him and that Blexhiem Bros. were not solely responsible for his good fortunes.
Since starting in the boiler room David had progressed into the upper floors. Corporate bathroom keys within reach, champagne lunches and of course long hours. At this level everything seemed possible. Stood on the Blexhiem balcony smoking a cigar, David looked down and surveyed his city, he felt very powerful; life had been very kind along the way and Manhattan’s nightscape sprawled out beneath him like a huge fairy lit playground.
4.
There were two simple philosophies for the big traders at Blexhiem, buy on rumours, sell on facts and work hard, play hard, David followed both to the letter. The Blexhiem social scene was legendary. Money was everywhere, there wasn’t a place in town they weren’t welcome and anything went. He started seeing less and less of Jayne, the more he earned the longer he worked, the longer he worked the harder he partied
“I never see you anymore” she would complain from time to time tired of his elusive lifestyle but a little attention and a lot of cash went a long way to pouring water on her bonfire.
Most of the big cat traders survived on a heady diet of speed and cocaine to survive, but to let the hair down LSD and Ecstasy were definitely the favourites and they commanded top dollars. Drugs were hot property. David saw the price of a tablet in the US compared to the two a penny price they commanded on Liverpool’s streets and dollar signs snapped up again in his eyes. Jayne’s visits home became the perfect guise for regular shipments so discreet even Jayne didn’t know she was smuggling them. The traders ate more tablets than laboratory beagles smoked cigarettes and the money rolled at him like an avalanche.
5.
“David what’s the matter, who is it?” Jayne called again from the bedroom this time with laudable angst and fear in hr voice. But David for once in his life had no answer. Before he could summon up any sort of answer the door like his New York dream came crashing down around him.
_______________________________________________
1.
Peering down from his kitchen window David could see the first ominous decaying signs of autumn’s impending arrival. It was a bright, early September morning on Lexington Avenue, an affluent address on Manhattans much sought after Upper East Side and its position, lodged neatly between Central park and the East River, meant it felt the chill quicker than most.
It was early, his second wife Jayne, tall, blonde and every bit the trophy wife, was still sleeping though Manhattan had long since roared into life. Its rush hour traffic growled past impatiently sending cascades of brown red leaves dancing and scurrying in its wake through the crisp morning air. A knock at the door snapped David out of his morning daze
‘Just a second’ he shouted realising he couldn’t answer the door in his shorts.
‘Shit’ he cursed spilling coffee up his arm in his haste to find some clothes.
‘Who’s knocking at this time of the morning?’ Jayne groaned shielding her eyes from the light that now poured into the bedroom
‘How do I know’ David snapped scrambling his feet clumsily into his joggers whilst half hopping half walking to the door. The knock came again this time with force and determination. David stopped dead in his tracks this was no ordinary knock; this was a knock that meant business.
2.
Blexhiem Bros. was a corporate giant, one of the biggest Stockbrokers in New York and David, like most, started at the bottom. The Blexhiem offices were located in a grand imposing Gothic stone building on Lincoln Plaza. Walking through those revolving glass doors on his first day dollar signs quickly replaced pound signs in his wide glazed eyes, the whole place oozed success.
‘Here, follow me’ a voice called from reception
‘You must be David, you’ll be working here, this is your phone and phone book, give me a shout when you’ve earned me some money!” He looked around. There were people everywhere on phones. Pacing backwards and forwards arms waving frantically, some crouched on the floor, others feet up on desks all barking angrily like a sea of hungry geese. David learned fast, the more calls the more leads the more leads the more money it was a numbers game and no place to make friends. In the boiler room (as it was known) the weak were killed and eaten.
Roger Bellson sat along side David. He was mid forties but with a face looking long past retirement. David had taken to arriving at six am to catch the West coast markets early and Roger always ran in at eight.
“Anyone biting?” Roger would ask, desperately hoping for leads like a fisherman scouting the best pegs. David would lie, not wanting to share whatever markets he had his net in. Rodger had a certain desperation to his style that screamed ‘I got the bank breathing down my neck give me a break!’ When Rog’ left at night David would still be there to siphon what ever leads Rog’ had made. He knew it was curtains for Roger anyway, he didn’t earn enough and Blexhiem carried nobody so who was he hurting? It was the law of the boiler room.
One morning Rodger didn’t show, his desk was empty and new blood was brought in to replace him, David felt nothing, after all business was business.
3.
David and Jayne moved into the prestigious Barbizon Condominium on the corner of East 63rd Street and Lexington some eighteen months later. They viewed the fourth floor corner apartment and fell in love with it immediately. It wasn’t just a fabulous home it was a status symbol. The address alone told people you were a somebody.
“Oh my God David, can we afford this?” Jayne had squealed spinning round in her little girl style.
“ Oh I think we can just about manage it” David winked understanding that the ‘we’ meant him. “Blexhiems been pretty good to us of late” he continued smiling and hugging her as she fell into him in delight, understanding that the ‘us’ meant him and that Blexhiem Bros. were not solely responsible for his good fortunes.
Since starting in the boiler room David had progressed into the upper floors. Corporate bathroom keys within reach, champagne lunches and of course long hours. At this level everything seemed possible. Stood on the Blexhiem balcony smoking a cigar, David looked down and surveyed his city, he felt very powerful; life had been very kind along the way and Manhattan’s nightscape sprawled out beneath him like a huge fairy lit playground.
4.
There were two simple philosophies for the big traders at Blexhiem, buy on rumours, sell on facts and work hard, play hard, David followed both to the letter. The Blexhiem social scene was legendary. Money was everywhere, there wasn’t a place in town they weren’t welcome and anything went. He started seeing less and less of Jayne, the more he earned the longer he worked, the longer he worked the harder he partied
“I never see you anymore” she would complain from time to time tired of his elusive lifestyle but a little attention and a lot of cash went a long way to pouring water on her bonfire.
Most of the big cat traders survived on a heady diet of speed and cocaine to survive, but to let the hair down LSD and Ecstasy were definitely the favourites and they commanded top dollars. Drugs were hot property. David saw the price of a tablet in the US compared to the two a penny price they commanded on Liverpool’s streets and dollar signs snapped up again in his eyes. Jayne’s visits home became the perfect guise for regular shipments so discreet even Jayne didn’t know she was smuggling them. The traders ate more tablets than laboratory beagles smoked cigarettes and the money rolled at him like an avalanche.
5.
“David what’s the matter, who is it?” Jayne called again from the bedroom this time with laudable angst and fear in hr voice. But David for once in his life had no answer. Before he could summon up any sort of answer the door like his New York dream came crashing down around him.
_______________________________________________
