The Day Trader by Stephen Frey Page A

Seaver was impressed with you.” Roger hesitates. “I guess that Slammer guy knows what he’s doing too, but frankly, he’s a prick. I doubt he’d be very helpful.”
    The last thing I need right now is a pupil. I’ve gotten off to a good start with Unicom, but I don’t know how I’ll react when things go against me the first time—which they inevitably will. Everybody hits a slump sooner or later.
    “I’m losing my wife, Augustus. I can feel it.”
    I lean forward and rub my eyes. This is no good.
    “I’ll pay you,” he offers desperately. “I’ll give you a share of my profits.”
    “You don’t have to do that.”
    Roger looks up. He’s heard a friendly tone. “I don’t?”
    I don’t need a second shadow, but I feel Roger’s pain, and down deep I like to help people. I don’t want to see him lose everything, nor do I want him coming into the office one day brandishing a loaded twelve-gauge shotgun like some deranged postal worker who’s finally realized he can’t ever get ahead because the mail will never stop coming. “I can’t work with you right now, but if you stick around after the markets close today, I’ll help you personalize your Trader One and we’ll go over a couple of basics.” He breaks into a wide grin. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile, and that makes me feel good. “But promise me this,” I say gravely, pointing at him. “Don’t execute a single trade until we talk.”
    “I won’t. Thanks, thanks a lot,” he says graciously. “I’ll let you get back to work. I won’t take any more of your—”
    I hold up my hand to indicate that our conversation is over, and suddenly I feel like Don Corleone. Roger nods obediently and slips out the doorway into the trading room. I know I’ve just committed a cardinal sin in the day trading game. Never take on another person’s problems because ultimately you’ll have enough of your own. But what the hell, he seems nice enough, and I understand where he’s coming from.
    Anna comes into the conference room after Roger leaves. She isn’t the blue-eyed blond type I’m typically attracted to, but her sexy body, provocative wardrobe, and Spanish accent make her incredibly seductive.
    “Good morning, Augustus.”
    “Hi.”
    “This came for you a few minutes ago.” She hands me a Federal Express package that’s already been opened.
    “Thanks.”
    “Talk to you later,” she says with a quick smile.
    Inside the FedEx package is a letter-size envelope, and the return address is that of the Great Western Insurance Company. The letter inside makes my mouth run dry. It explains that Great Western has received my claim and that “once a routine investigation is completed without exception, the payee, Augustus McKnight, shall receive $1,000,000.” The amount is typed in bold.
    The letter shakes as I hold it up and stare at the bold type. A million dollars. I often paid bills months late—only when I thought creditors were about to cut off a utility or send a collector to our door to repossess something—because Melanie and I literally had no money in our account. Now, a few weeks after bouncing a four-hundred-dollar check, I’m about to bank over a million. If Melanie and I could have had this kind of money, our lives would have been so much better, I think to myself, choking up as I flash on the image of her body lying on that silver gurney.
    “Augustus.” It’s Anna again.
    I quickly push the tips of my thumb and forefinger to the corners of my eyes to conceal my emotion. “Yes?”
    “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”
    “It’s okay. What’s up?”
    “There’s a man in the lobby to see you.”
    I glance up into her huge brown eyes. “Who is it?”
    “He says he’s a detective with the Washington, D.C., police department.”
    I follow Anna’s catwalk stride back through the trading floor and out into the lobby, wondering what Reggie wants. Perhaps there’s been a break in the case, but how in the hell