by Mark Goodwin
Ava turned her attention to a gentleman in his mid-fifties at the window next to hers.
“Why can’t I?” The man’s voice grew louder.
“We simply don’t keep that much cash on hand. I can give you five thousand right now, but you’ll have to schedule in advance if you need to make a larger withdrawal,” the other teller said.
“It’s a bank. I can’t believe you don’t keep twenty thousand dollars on hand at a bank!”
“Ms. Wilson?”
Ava turned back to her own teller. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“An envelope. Would you like one for your cash?”
Ava considered what she’d just witnessed. “Yes, please. And actually, I’d like to withdraw four thousand from my checking account.” Ava dug out her debit card and passed it to the bank employee.
The teller shook her head, “I assure you, your money is totally safe with us. In fact, it’s safer here than in your home.”
Ava bit her tongue rather than confront the girl about her corporate-issued safe-money pitch. Instead, she offered the same sugary sweet smile as the teller gave. “I’m sure you’re right, but it’s my money.”
The teller began processing Ava’s request. “I’m going to have to give you some fifties. Is that okay?”
“Lunchtime Monday afternoon and you’re out of hundreds?”
“Will fifties be okay, Ms. Wilson?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Ava looked around. The bank did not have people lined out the door, yet they were obviously tight on physical currency.
When she arrived back at the office, Ava relayed her experience at the bank to Charity.
Dr. Hodge returned from lunch right after Ava. “S&P just dipped below the twenty percent line. Trading is halted for the day.”
“Thanks,” Ava said. She turned back to Charity. “You should call James if he is off and have him go pull some cash out of the bank.”
Charity nodded. “Maybe I will.”
“I better get back to work.” Ava waved and headed back to her exam room.
CHAPTER 12
Do not be deceived: “Evil company corrupts good habits.”
1 Corinthians 15:33 NKJV
Ava stepped past Raquel toward the door Friday evening at closing time. “I at least have to go home and change. I’m not going out dressed like this.”
“Great! I’ll pick you up at your place. I’ve gotta go get a shower. I feel like I’ve got tooth crud all over me. Can you be ready by six?”
“Six is fine.”
“Perfect. Texas Social has happy hour and hors-d'oeuvres ‘til seven. We can get a couple drinks and something to eat there, then ladies’ night at Venus starts at nine.”
“You’ve got this down to a science.” Ava was happy to not be sitting home alone on a Friday night for a change.
“Everybody is good at something.” Raquel followed her out the door.
Ava felt excited as she headed home to walk Buckley, get a quick shower, and get dressed for her night out.
She was still putting on her eyeliner when her phone rang. Ava hit the speaker button. “Five more minutes.”
“No way!” Raquel said. “Bring your makeup with you and put it on in the car.”
“Then I’ll look like I put my makeup on in the car.”
“If you look overly refined, you’ll intimidate the guys. You gotta be accessible.”
Ava started to tell Raquel that she had no interest in being as accessible as her, but this was Raquel’s area of expertise, so she tossed her eyeshadow and lipstick in a tiny clutch and headed out the door. “Don’t wait up for me, Buckley.”
Their first stop was Texas Social.
“What can I get you?” the bartender offered.
“Um—a margarita.” Ava looked around the bar.
“On the rocks?”
“Frozen.”
Raquel held up her hand. “Whoa! This isn’t 7-Eleven and you’re not eleven. Big girls don’t drink Slurpees.”
Ava lifted her shoulders apologetically toward the bartender. “On the rocks then.”
“Make it straight up, with salt. And make it two.” Raquel intervened once more with two fingers in the air.
“That sounds strong.” Ava turned to Raquel.
“It’s the same thing as on the rocks, just strained off so the ice doesn’t melt and ruin your drink.”
Ava didn’t question her companion.
The drinks arrived. The concoction was served in a martini glass with a salt rim and a circle of lime on the lip of the glass.
“Cheers!” Raquel held up her glass for a toast.
“Let’s get this party started.” Ava clicked her glass to Raquel’s, then took a sip.
Raquel drank the entire glass in one long drink and passed the glass back to the bartender. “Let’s get something to eat.”
Ava knew she shouldn’t be surprised by Raquel’s behavior, but even so, she wasn’t expecting that. “Slow down, cowgirl.”
“Happy hour is over in forty minutes. We gotta make it count.” Raquel took a small plate from the stack next to the chafing dishes and selected a few appetizers.
Ava followed behind her, also filling a plate. She took a generous spoon full of dumpling mac, three pot stickers, and one of the shrimp and grit cakes. “Looks good. I can’t believe this is all free!”
“We’re paying for the drinks. It’s not free.” Raquel led the way out to the patio and found an open cocktail table.
A waitress came by. “Something to drink for you?”
“Two straight up margaritas.”
Ava waved her hand. “None for me. I’m still working on my first one.”
“They’re both for me,” Raquel assured the waitress.
“You’re not going to be able to drive!” Ava sipped her drink.
Raquel dismissed her concern. “Then we’ll grab an Uber. Trust me, I know most of the drivers.”
Ava figured that was about as responsible as she could expect Raquel to be, so she dropped the subject and enjoyed the food.
“Raquel!” A girl sleeved with tattoos on both arms as well as her neck stopped by the table with a drink in her hand.
“Marcy, how have you been?” Raquel introduced the girl to Ava, they chatted shortly, and the girl left.
No less than ten other people from the bar came by the table, some of them men, but none Ava considered desirable. Ava had one more drink. Raquel had several.
Raquel finished her last drink and checked her phone. “Free drinks and no cover at Venus begins in exactly ten minutes. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
“Are you going to call an Uber?” Ava asked.
Raquel looked around the bar. “Not unless I have to. Follow me.”
Ava did so. Raquel cut across the crowd of people that filled Texas Social to near capacity. She led Ava to the end of the bar where she leaned in to say goodbye to the bartender. “Mary, take care. We’re out of here.”
“Okay, be safe.” The bartender was very busy and only looked up for a second.
Ava wondered why Raquel had put so much effort into saying goodbye to someone who didn’t seem to care all that much that she was leaving. Of course, all of Raquel’s relationships with the people at this place seemed about a quarter-inch deep.
“Raquel, aren’t you going to say hi?” A very cute guy sat at the end of the bar, near the place Raquel had chosen to bid her acquaintance farewell.
“Michael! I didn’t see you. Oh my gosh. And Chip, how are you?”
“Good,” Chip replied. “Just got a new car. Picked it up after work.”
Ava looked Chip over. His chiseled jaw and piercing eyes were accented by a proper allocation of time spent at the gym, in front of the mirror, and keeping up with men’s fashion. Ava suddenly wished she’d worn something a little nicer than jeans.
“What did you get?” Raquel asked.
“A Maserati Quattroporte.”
“Shut up!” Raquel slapped Chip playfully on th
e chest. “Quattroporte, that’s Italian for four-door?”
“Yeah, I’m a little too old or too young for a Grand Turismo. That model carries a certain stigmatization. It says you’re a rich kid whose dad bought you a car that you’re going to kill yourself in; or it says you never had money when you were growing up so now that you can afford a mid-life crisis, you bought a car that you’re going to kill yourself in.” Chip laughed at his own joke.
“But seriously,” he continued, “the Quattroporte says ambitious young professional.
“So, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
“I’m so rude!” Raquel turned to Ava. “This is my friend from work, Ava.” She motioned with her hand. “This is Chip and Michael, they’re investment something or another.”
“Wealth management specialists.” Chip eyed Ava with a wolf-like smile. “Let us buy you girls a drink.”
“Oh no. Thanks anyway, but we’re heading out.” Raquel took Ava’s hand and began to turn her around.
Ava gently tugged Raquel’s hand and said, “We’re not really in a rush . . .”
Raquel gave her hand a firm squeeze, letting her know that she should follow her lead. “We’re not, but the Uber driver will be. I don’t like to make those guys wait. See you guys later.”
“Wait, where are you headed?” Michael asked.
“Venus. Maybe we’ll see you there. Ciao!” Raquel waved.
“We’re going to Venus. Just let us settle up, and we’ll give you a lift.” Chip tipped his rocks glass up and finished the brownish liquid, which appeared to be Bourbon.
Raquel paused and turned around. “What am I supposed to do about my Uber?”
“Does he have a Maserati? Cancel it,” Chip said flippantly.
“I guess I could.” Raquel pulled out her phone in such a way that made it appear she’d been inconvenienced.
Ava watched as Raquel played out her charade, pretending to open the Uber app on her phone and cancel the ride. In her slight inebriation, Ava tried to think of a single word to describe Raquel; Conniving— no. Manipulative—no. Masterful—that’s it; masterful.
Michael signed the credit card statement, picked up his card, and stuck it in his wallet. “Ready to go. See, that wasn’t so bad.” He put his arm around Raquel.
“Let’s boogie!” Chip flipped his keys around his finger and led the entourage toward the door.
Ava knew less about cars than Raquel, but when she saw the Maserati, she needed no research to tell her it wasn’t a cheap automobile.
Michael and Raquel got in the back seat. Chip opened the passenger’s side for Ava.
“Thanks.” She looked into his eyes as he closed the door.
Chip got in and started the engine, which sounded more like it belonged in a race car than a four-door sedan.
Ava reapplied her lipstick in the rearview as Chip drove out of the parking lot. “So, wealth management. You guys aren’t wringing your hands over the whole market meltdown? I mean obviously not, you just bought a new car.”
Chip nodded. “That’s good that you follow the markets. You’d be surprised how many people don’t even know what’s going on. But no. We love this. Not necessarily for our clients, but we’ve been cleaning up!”
“Really? I thought everything is going down?”
“It is, which means shorting dogs is basically risk-free easy money.”
“Shorting dogs?”
“Yeah, dogs are stocks with bad fundamentals, bad management, companies that are generally risky investments. Shorting means you bet that the company’s stock is going to lose value over a period of time. Basically, you borrow a share of the company, sell it at its current price, then buy a new share when it goes lower. You pay back the borrowed share with the share you bought at a lower price and pocket the difference.”
“Wow. What if the market had rebounded and you would have had to pay back the borrowed stock with a more expensive share?” Ava asked.
Chip laughed. “Do you know how few people have enough critical thinking skills to even ask that question?”
Michael commented from the back, “If that would have happened, we’d be driving to Venus in a rusted-out 1988 Toyota Tercel with no muffler.”
“Correction!” Raquel yelled. “You’d be in a 1988 Toyota. We’d be in an Uber!”
Ava grinned as she looked up into the rearview to see Raquel was already closer to Michael’s side of the vehicle than her own. Evidently, she would not be performing an encore presentation of her hard-to-get routine.
“Wait, you didn’t buy this car with what you made this week, right?” Ava felt sure that Michael was exaggerating.
Chip bobbed his head from side to side in an effort to maintain a façade of false humility. “This is from yesterday and today. I bought a new condo with what I made during the first part of the week. But these opportunities don’t come along every day. We’ve been watching the market get frothy for years. The guy Higgins put in to replace the last Fed chairperson is a bigger monetary dove than his predecessor. And the market has been overbought for a long, long time.
“But back to your question about a rebound. The blue chips, the biggest and best companies like the ones that make up the Dow Jones index, will level out long before anyone steps in to buy these dogs we’ve been shorting. When we see that happening, we liquidate our short positions and sit back for the next round of volatility. This spree might last another day or another week, but when the volatility ends, so does the bonanza. We keep putting all of our money on red and spinning the roulette wheel as long as the market is tanking. But when the government steps in to stop the free fall, we switch our bets back to black until they can pump it back up. Then we’ll do it all over again. Of course, it could be another decade before a crash like this one comes back around.”
“You guys are predators!” Raquel spouted off. “I can’t believe you’re participating in this rigged system! You sound like Ross’ supporters. I thought you guys were both voting for Markovich.”
“Where do you think Markovich is getting his campaign money?” Chip glanced up at the rearview.
“From the people!” Raquel answered like a true revolutionary.
“Yeah, it’s the people’s money alright. After it’s been pilfered from their pockets by the big banks and the mega-corporations. Take a look at who Bernie Sanders’ top contributors were. It’s the same mega-corporations footing the bill for Markovich. Apple, Google, Microsoft, he had the election if the rug hadn’t been jerked out from under him by the DNC.”
“Corporations can’t donate to an election campaign,” Raquel stated.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Chip looked in the mirror again. “The owners and employees of those companies can do whatever they want. Google’s major shareholders and employees alone funneled over three-hundred grand into Sanders’ campaign via Super PACs and the campaign committee combined.”
“Markovich makes Sanders look like Ronald Reagan.” Ava knew her comment probably wouldn’t be appreciated by present company, so she said it softly.
Raquel piped up again. “The Just Society Foundation is Max Markovich’s top contributor. I’m actively involved with the Social Justice Warriors League, and we work hand in hand with the Just Society Foundation, so I should know.”
“George Szabos funds the Just Society Foundation and the SJWL. Where do you think Szabos gets his money?” Chip glanced at the rearview once more.
“Let me guess,” Ava said. “Shorting dogs.”
Chip seemed to be impressed by her sharp wit. “Essentially, you’re right.”
Michael added from the back seat, “But Szabos is operating on a whole different level than what Chip and I are doing.”
“Markovich is pledging to put an end to all of that. He’s talking about major banking reform, raising the top tax bracket to 90%, capping private property at one million in total assets. I would think you guys would be worried about him getting elected,” Ava said.
&nb
sp; “Did you ever read Animal Farm?” Chip glanced over.
“In high school.”
“Remember the part about every animal being equal?”
Ava tried to summon up the book from the depths of her memory. “Yeah, something about all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal?”
“Exactly. Orwell didn’t paint it in the best light, but that captures the reality of progressive reformation. It’s sort of an unspoken rule that the revisions will be applied in a pragmatic manner. The thought leaders and innovators of reform under this type of system are rewarded with certain positions and access to resources. And that’s not unfair or unequal. It’s necessary so they can be unencumbered and available to dedicate all of their energy to leading.”
“You’re talking about communism.” Ava’s image of prince charming was fading fast.
“Communism, in its purest form, doesn’t exist. Neither does Capitalism. These are two points on a sliding scale that represent intangible ideas. Like infinity and negative infinity, you can put them on each side of a scale, but in reality, you never actually arrive at either point. They’re just concepts. America has never been purely capitalistic. From the beginning, we levied taxes to pay for mutual defense. No matter how minute, that’s a form of communal welfare.”
“No,” Ava replied. “We did not levy taxes from the beginning. Our mutual defense was funded by tariffs on imported goods.”
“And who bought the imported goods?”
“People who chose to! A person had the right to buy or not to buy those items. Presently, if I don’t pay my taxes, I’ll rot in jail.”
“That’s putting it a bit extremely.”
“Tell that to Irwin Schiff.”
“Sorry, I don’t know who that is.”
“A tax protestor who died in prison,” Ava waved her hand. “But let’s talk about something else. I don’t want to argue.”
“Just a spirited debate, I was actually enjoying it. But I’d be happy to talk about something else. So, you work with Raquel at the dental office?”