The Pawn makes it's move. Chapter 2

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The first thing I woke up to were the sight of bleeding futures on Bloomberg. I hurried to get ready and called Frank to come earlier. I arrived the firm by 6.15am, made coffee and entered my room. Having a sizably huge fund to manage, comes larger responsibilities.

The main thing that caught my eye were oil prices hovering at $100 mark. Oil had a strong run till July before it started declining marginally. Since we had a low entry, I have been taking profit gradually. However, looking through some articles, production output and cost per barrel, there was a massive underlying problem brewing. The whiff of trouble around the corner gets my adrenaline pumping. I am about to wager against the market with a big short, I just need to confirm my hunch.

Brandon arrives with my second coffee of the morning. Markets about to commence, the first thing I did was to sell and keep cash positions before I decide to execute the short. It is illogical for me to go long on the companies I'm holding and short myself concurrently, essentially stabbing my right hand using my left one.

It took me the whole day to progressively exit all the oil counters. The average return was proximate to 34% post selling. It was slightly below what I was expecting but if my prediction was right and oil plunges to a bottomless pit, my decision would pay off handsomely.

Just as the market closed, my primary broker, Paul called. "That was a huge sell Brooke. Thanks for fattening my year end bonus in advance", he jokes light heartedly, yet we both knew there was truth in what he said. Every time a transaction is made, brokerage is charged and a certain percentage of it is part of his commission.

"Your welcomed Paul. There's still some spill over orders for South East Asia market, have you alerted the night desk?", I asked.

"Aye. I'll send you the reports when it's done. By the way, are you coming for our clients appreciation dinner and cocktail event tonight?", asks Paul.

I absolutely forgotten all about it and was reluctant to mingle after a long day. Nonetheless, Paul succeeded in cajoling me to attend. I'm reminded of why he is one of the top institutional brokers in his firm. He was persuasive and throws a pretty damn good sales pitch. The type that could convince you to buy a parachute, even if you've never sky dived your entire life.

The gathering was held in a bar called Imperial just down the road. It's a customary spot for stock brokers, hedge fund managers, traders and everyone else in professions alike. Every two months, Paul's broking firm would book the whole bar and organize a get together for their clients. Originally it was fun, exchanging market views and ideas with like minded fellows, though after awhile it gets routine and mundane. I've stopped attending for 3 years by now, I wonder if the faces were still the same.

While Frank navigates through the traffic, I freshened up in the car. Reapplying eye liner, fresh layer of mascara and lip gloss in a moving vehicle, is a talent of mine. I used to be able to do that while driving, not withstanding a fuming Sarah yelling, "You are the opposite of fast and furious, you are freaking slow and bloody dangerous". Now that Frank came along, my road hazard habits has since been diminished.

Checking the reflection one last time, I tied my hair up in a messy high bun, smoothen my white chiffon collared button up shirt and adjusted my high waisted crimson pencil skirt. Grabbing my coat, I was ready to go after informing Frank to standby from 8.30 - 9pm.

Inside the bar, barely anything has changed. The food was served buffet style and drinks on free flow. Faces were mostly familiar except for a handful of younger additions. You can always tell by the expressions on their faces. Fresh, naive and unjaded by the markets.

The lesson about the stock market is that you will make mistakes, and these errors could be costly. The key to succeed is to make the mistakes, pick yourself up and never repeat it again. After getting burnt a couple of times, one will master a level of zen and wisdom, like Yoda. Wise and quick to buy, fast to sell with no emotional attachments. Cold and ruthless. One can imagine it's impossible to still maintain a child like naivety, after being crushed and picking yourself up again multiple times. That's how you separate the seasoned players from the new ones. Many do not even last a year from the initial stress and demotivation. It is a survival of the mentally fittest afterall.

The first person that greeted me upon my entrance was Paul. "Glad you made it Brooke, come and grab a bite", he says while guiding me to the trays of mouth watering delight. I grabbed a portion of everything, sat down and graciously dug in to my first meal of the day, I was starving having skipped lunch earlier this afternoon.

Once I was done, I helped myself to a glass of single malt whisky on the rocks and caught up with a few acquaintances. We were discussing the current market affairs when Tim joins our conversation, arriving just moments ago. Next to him was Nate Graham, ruggedly good looking with his sleeves rolled up and his crisp white collared shirt unbuttoned by 3 on top.

"Oil should stabilize by $80 per barrel, the Saudi's just announced the floor price at $90. They will be defending the price drop by cutting production", says Nate with conviction taking a swig of his scotch.

"And you genuinely believe that?", I questioned him challengingly.

He turned to face me, raising his eyebrows in scepticism, "What would you know? Aren't you from sales or something".

Hedge fund sales job are the front liners who have a strong base of high net worth contacts. Their job scope requires them to bring funds in to invest in our firm's hedge fund. There's a public misperception that these jobs are held by attractive women, who seduces affluent men to bring sales in.

I chuckled, "Aren't you a male chauvinist? The problem with the situation now is caused by US shale oil frackers. It's an oil glut from over supply due to the boom of shale oil over the years. The cost per barrel of shale oil is still higher than traditional oil extraction, as low as $50 to a higher average of $70-$80. Why would they fortify the prices when they should be killing off their competition? The Saudi's oil production cost is below $10. If I were them? I'll drive it below $40, force the competitors to bleed, and once their production stops, so will supply cut and they can gain market share. Murder two birds with a stone".

"So you're a sales girl who reads. Though your conspiracy theory has some logic to it, the idea is too far fetched", Nate replied, his lips curved wryly.

"Actually, Brooke is also one of the top senior hedge fund managers from GN Investments, your firm's rival", cuts in Paul looking amused. "Is that why you made the huge sell today?", Paul asks, turning to me. I nodded my head.

"That's a good point, I read a report by Goldman that went along the lines of what you've mentioned", adds in Tim.

"Maybe you should read up more, Graham", I couldn't resist taking a jab at Nate after his sexist remark earlier.

He grinned, folding his arms looking amused. "Let's make a bet, if I'm right, you go on a date with me. If I'm wrong, I'll go on a date with you".

I laughed, "That's a losing proposition for me either way. No thanks, I'll be satisfied with the knowledge of being right".

Taking a step closer, Nate looked at me right in the eye, "Admit it, you're just afraid you can't handle a guy like me on a date alone". The small spectating crowd around us fell into silence.

I gave him an innocent look and lowered my lashes, "Of course I'm afraid... ". Nate was starting to look smug. "I'm terrified I'll be bored witless spending more than a minute with you and your inflated ego alone", I ended my sentence wiping that smug expression his face.

Laughter broke around us. Paul gave me a high five, "Nice one Brooke, you had me for a moment. Finally the great Nate has been rejected".

Nate shot him a warning look and Paul sobered his expression. Afterall, Nate was probably one of his important clients too. Noticing a slight tension, Tim deftly changed the topic and the group relaxed.

After having my glass refilled for the third time, Frank texts indicating it's time to go. I bid my goodbyes and head to the exit. As I was about to enter the car, a hand appears slamming the door shut. I turned around and it was Nate. He pulls me swiftly to the sidewalk to face him, not letting go of my hand, our bodies extremely close. "Go out with me", he orders.

"Why should I, when I don't want to", I replied bluntly.

"Because I want you to", he answers simply as if that was all that matters.

I laughed, "Go pick on another target. This has been mildly entertaining but I've got to go", pulling my hand from his grip and walked back to my car.

"Just so you know, I relish a good challenge. And, I always get what I want", were the last words I heard him say when I closed the car door.

I gazed out the window as Frank drives off. Nate has a mischievous grin on his face as he watches the car leave. I shake my head and look away. The nerve of him, I mused. I caught a glimpse of my own reflection with my lips twitched suspiciously in what appears to be a smile. "Get a grip of yourself Brooke", I muttered harshly under my breath.

Frank looks at me from the rear view mirror, "Sorry I didn't get you Ms Brooke. Can you repeat the instructions?".

"It's nothing Frank, I was talking to myself", I replied dismissively. He nods his head and continues driving. It wasn't the first time he's heard me talking to myself. I do it all the time. Sarah used to tease me by calling me crazy, until I showed her an article stating that people who talk aloud to themselves were actually true geniuses. She's never mentioned the looney word ever since, partially because I never let her forget that Einstein does it all the time, so if he's a genius, I must be one too.

The next day at work, I began my big short, selling specific oil exploration and production counters with high operating cost per barrels. Oil dipped below the psychological $100 mark and it was the beginning of a journey down the rabbit hole. Futures were plunging and there was panic across the markets. In a twisted way, it was a form of sadism, by short selling it's deriving gratification from another's pain. There is no moral compass in the stock market, to participate in the game, one must understand, there's a sucker born every minute. It's either you, me or the guy down the street. Lastly, there is no guarantee, one minute you're the sucker and if oil prices shoot up the next second, I will be the ultimate fool.

Nevertheless, through calculated risk, the notion of my plans back firing is pretty slim. For now. In honesty, it was a pretty damn ballsy move, beneath my bravado I am desperately hoping that I'm right. No, I need to be right. Thankfully, throughout the day it has been moving in the direction that I require it to be. Market was closing in half an hour and I was gaining a larger buffer accompanied by calmer nerves.

A text came in and it was Tim asking for dinner. I replied no, stating lack of sleep, which is true to a certain extent.

"Please say yes. If you don't agree, Sarah won't come", Tim texted back with an unoriginal looking sad face emoji.

I took my time to reply, keep him suspenseful. After 3 minutes, my cruel plan must've worked because he sent 5 crying emoji's in a row. I replied OK and ended his torture. Tim sends the details and tells me to meet them in the restaurant/bar at 6 sharp.

I stayed back, reading up on the news for an hour before leaving to meet Tim and Sarah. As I was about to depart, I made an essential quick pit stop to the ladies. Upon touching up my make up lightly, I brushed my hair and adjusted my classic fitting sleeveless working black sheath dress and rearranged my delicate diamond pearl necklace. By the time I arrived, I was 18 minutes late, which wasn't exceptionally tardy for my standards.

Oishi Ryori is Japanese restaurant, acclaimed for their fresh sashimi. I gave Tim's name for the reservation and was led to a private dining room. The waitress opens the bamboo sliding doors, and to my chagrin was Nate sitting alone with no one else in sight. "I think you've got the wrong room", I told the waitress.

"Sit down, there's no mistake", Nate interrupts and motions the waitress away. She retreats immediately closing the door, isolating us alone to my dismay.

"Are you going to continue standing there, or do you want me to make you sit by force?", he asks taking delight in my discomfort.

"Where's Tim and Sarah?", I snapped a little agitatedly taking a seat across him. My vexation fuelling his entertainment.

"They'll be late, I've ordered for us already. Food will arrive soon", he replied casually.

I whipped my phone out to call Sarah but there was no answer hence I texted Tim instead. "EXPLAIN !", sending the text to him, I caps locked the letters to emphasize my aggravation from his sneaky plan.

"Sorry Brooke, he offered to double my equity portfolio for this favor. Anyway, we'll be there in an hour. Enjoy", he texts back unapologetically.

I sigh resignedly and placed my phone inside my handbag.

"Well I did warn you, I always get what I want", Nate pointed out, smirking triumphantly.

"I'm only here because my so called friend sold me out on an offer that you made to double his equity portfolio", I replied impassively, glancing at my perfectly manicured nails. If he wanted a reaction, I wasn't going to give it to him.

He chuckled knowingly, as if he saw through my move of defense, "It's not important how, but the end results that matter. By the way, you're actually pretty attractive, if only you weren't so uptight".

"Did you really just negged me? Is that what you've learnt from those pick up artist books, to disarm my bitch shield by attempting to undermine my confidence resulting to an increased need for your approval ?", I stared at him evenly, leaning back with my arms crossed.

He laughs, "You overthink things, Brooke. I was merely telling the truth. You are uptight. I bet you haven't had sex for ages, there isn't a release channel for your pent up stress and frustrations from the markets", his piercing gaze probed my face for signs of confirmation to his speculation.

"I guess you'll never find out", was my answer, along with a poker face. The waitress arrives with a huge tray of assorted raw seafood. I welcomed the momentary distraction, sinking a bite into the fresh Bluefin tuna.

"By the way, you might be right", Nate mentions nonchalantly, drinking his fill of Yamazaki whiskey. "About the oil glut and pricing", he continues, perhaps noticing the blank expression on my face.

I smiled a little "I hope so, I shorted huge positions this morning".

"I might follow your call. I did some research your on fund's track record. I must say I'm quite impressed. What made you choose this profession?".

I started to relax, finally we were having a normal conversation. "Passion, thrill and the challenge. The satisfaction of nailing a right call or decision".

His lips curved up slyly, "Seems like you live for the thrill of the chase. Isn't that the fun part of things in life? In reality you and I aren't too different, in fact we are pretty similar".

"I highly doubt we have like minded intrigues. Sleeping with anything in a skirt surely isn't one of mine".

"I didn't take you for a lesbian", he mused, "I was going more along the lines of you and your thrill seeking lifestyle. I live for the challenge and so do you. You say I have an inflated ego, but you're pretty obnoxious yourself".

I pursed my lips, hiding my smile. "Fine, I call it a truce". He grins winsomely, "See, this isn't so bad after all".

The door slides open, finally with Tim and Sarah's arrival. There was a huge smirk on her face, a tell tale of her intake regarding the situation and the hilarity she ensues from it. Clearly she had no intention to disguise it, or the decency to pretend at the minimal least.

Nate adjusted his position to make room for them, gesturing at me to seat beside him.

"Hi Brooke", Tim greets cheerfully, availing himself to the sashimi platter.

"Careful, I might have accidentally poisoned your share", I shot back at him. Sarah starts giggling abruptly. Narrowing my eyes at her while attempting to keep a straight face, I warned, "Yours too, Sarah".

"To be fair, I thought I was performing a good deed, since Sarah mentioned you had a thing for bad boys and all", Tim replies deviously, crossing all boundaries. This time round, Sarah howls in laughter at my now conspicuous discomfort.

Nate starts grinning like the devil's spawn. Resting his hand on the back of my seat, he smoothly pulls my chair closer, leaning over about to say something when I lifted my palm at him, "Don't even start", cutting him off. Though he obeyed, the cunning glint in his eyes speaks otherwise.

Soon, Sarah's infectious laughter got me chuckling as well. "I might have to consider deleting you guys from my Facebook", I joked.

"You might want to reconsider that, I'm technically your only friend left", exclaimed Sarah.

The rest of dinner was filled with back and forth repartee. I must admit, the time spent has certainly surpassed my incredibly low expectations. Throughout the whole time, Nate never once removed his hand from the back of my seat. Every now and then he would brush his fingers lightly on the back of my shoulder remaining contact during dinner.

Frank was on standby outside, by the time dinner ended. I ordered takeaway for him, recalling his fondness for Japanese cuisine. Tim came with Sarah, hence naturally fetching her back. We said our goodbyes and I proceeded to enter my car when Nate held my hand, gently turning me to face him.

"I enjoyed myself tonight", he says smiling sincerely. "It wasn't too bad", I replied nonchalantly.

"Lies. You clearly had a good time in my company", he grins roguishly pulling me closer to him.

"You're delusional, Graham", I scoffed, shoving him playfully. Without warning, he prehend my hands, boldly pressing a kiss on my lips, and pulls away in a second. "Good night, Morgan", he says with a sly smile on his face.

I mumbled good night, clearly caught off guard. I hurriedly receded to my car and shut the door. My fingers subconsciously tracing my lips. There was an indisputable chemistry beneath our banters, a foreign feeling that I've not encountered in a long time.

"Had fun at dinner tonight ?", Frank asked from the front seat, bringing me back to reality. "Yes Frank, which reminds me, I ordered your favorite dish for you", handing him the takeaway in a paper bag.

He looks at the rear-view mirror and flashes a warm smile, "Thanks Ms Brooke".

"I should be thanking you, Frank. Always getting me to work on time and home safely", I replied gratefully.

Waiting for me at the concierge lobby were parcels containing clothes that I've ordered two days ago. Without further ado, I tried on every piece and was duly satisfied with the purchases. I rearranged it by colors and type in the wardrobe, diverting my mind from Nate's ambush kiss earlier. He was a smooth predator, too suave for comfort. Definitely dangerous.


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