The Day Trader by Stephen Frey Read Free Book Online Page B

with inspirational quotes, while some are bare. There are about a hundred people working on the floor alltogether.
    “Here it is.” Seaver points to an unoccupied cubicle at the very end of the aisle, and it’s just as he promised. A plain desk supporting two large computer screens, a keyboard, and a processor from which thick wires disappear down one side of the desk into the floor. All surrounded by gray temporary partitions.
    “Hey, pal.”
    Leaning back in his chair, a man appears out of the cubicle beside mine. He has a crew cut and small, intense eyes. “You going to be joining us?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m Max Frasier. Good to meet you.”
    “Augustus McKnight.”
    Max stretches and shakes my hand with a grip like a vise, then stands up and leans over his desk, resting his palms on the four-foot-high partition. “Hey, come here,” he says, motioning to someone I can’t see.
    “I’ve got to go,” Seaver announces, giving me a friendly pat on the back. “Slammer will take care of you,” he says, pointing to Max as he hurries away. “See you in the morning, Augustus.”
    “Okay.” I nod good-bye to Seaver as Max saunters over to where I’m standing. “Why did Seaver call you Slammer?” I ask.
    “I’m ex-military,” Max replies, as though that explains it. “Special forces. I served with the Army Rangers for ten years. Did most of my tour down in Central America.” He rolls up one sleeve and shows me an ugly scar and a tattoo of an angry devil on his upper arm. “Shot up pretty good in Nicaragua back in ’eighty-seven, but it was worth it,” he says. “I love my country.”
    Max is short, no more than five-six, but he’s built like a Sherman tank. “Yeah, but why did Seaver call you Slammer?”
    Before he can answer, a woman with sandy blond hair sidles up beside me. “Hello, I’m Mary Segal,” she says.
    The first thing I notice about Mary is that she’s wearing lots of expensive-looking jewelry. I mean, it’s dripping off her. “I’m Augustus, it’s nice to meet—”
    “We call her Sassy around here,” Max interrupts. “We keep her around for her sex appeal. Dresses up the place.”
    “Stop it, Slammer.” Mary reaches over and pats the ex-military man on his scrub-brushy head. She’s an inch or two taller than he is. Despite her protest, I can tell she enjoys his teasing. Though not beautiful, she’s still striking and she was probably accustomed to being the center of attention in her younger days.
    “And I call this guy Freak Show.” Max laughs loudly as a young man wearing an earring in his left lobe, a ring in his eyebrow, and sagging, baggy jeans appears beside Mary. He has shoulder-length hair dyed a dark purple, and I take an obvious second look. “Freak Show is our rebel without a cause,” Slammer adds with a smirk.
    “Daniel Jenkins,” the young man says loudly, clearly pissed off at Max for assigning the nickname. Despite all of the decoration he has a serious demeanor about him.
    “Hi, Daniel.”
    “Freak Show still has some maturing left to do,” Slammer says arrogantly, “but I’ll teach him what’s right and what’s wrong.”
    “Shut up, you—”
    “Easy, boys,” Mary says, placing a hand on each man’s chest. “Lord, Augustus will get the idea we don’t get along.” She smiles at me when Daniel stalks off. “When will you be starting, Augustus?”
    “Tomorrow.”
    “Good,” Slammer says gruffly, giving Daniel the finger behind his back. “We can use some new blood around here. We lost two people in our group last week.”
    “Lost?”
    “They went bankrupt. Lost everything they had,” he explains with a chuckle. “It happens all the time.”
    “How long have you been here?” I ask.
    “Six months,” Slammer replies. “The longest of the three of us. Sassy came in the spring and Freak Show joined a few weeks ago. It’s churn and burn at Bedford, Gus. Seaver has no mercy if you can’t pay your bill. He seems nice and all at