Silver Lining

by Diana Simmonds

  Malcolm giggled and hugged his sister. “I hope so, sis,” he said nervously.

  Clancy patted his hand and they all sat down as Malcolm raised his hand to attract the attention of a waiter.

  The piano player launched into an odd bossa nova version of “The Sting” as Amanda began to speak. She laughed and pointed toward him with her beer bottle. “That’s kinda my tune,” she said, grinning at Clancy. Natalie swirled the ice in her glass and made a further effort to look bored as she glanced around at the chic crowd in the Fifth Avenue hotel bar. As she often did, Amanda decided to ignore her and answer Clancy’s question to her, “So tell me what it is you do?”

  “Well,” Amanda said, smiling charmingly at the visiting Australian. “I’ve been at Elleron Frères for two years. It’s a boutique merchant bank—I don’t know how much you know about finance but I specialized in CDSs—credit default swaps—mostly around ten to twenty million—but lately I switched to different types of securitized product that have a credit element; mainly CLOs and CDOs. Pricing derivatives is where it’s at and it’s actually really exciting although I know it doesn’t sound like it.”

  “You are so right about that, sweetie,” said Natalie in a dolorous voice. She sipped her drink and swirled the ice again. “I think we could talk about watching paint dry, I’m sure Clancy would find that just as fascinating.” She smiled at Amanda over the rim of her glass, daring her to snipe back.

  As usual Amanda failed to resist. “If you understood even one tenth of what makes the world go around you’d find it fascinating Natalie,” she said sharply. “We deal in risk and what we do is what makes this country great.”

  Silence hung between the four while the affable sounds of a pleasant evening went on around them. Malcolm shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced nervously at his sister. Her impassive expression resembled an Easter Island statue and he quickly sat forward to somehow fill the black hole that had visibly opened in the flimsy social fabric. But he was too late.

  “I suppose you think you’re queen of the world, or something.” Clancy’s words were spoken quietly, with a smile, but the sneer in her tone was unmistakable.

  “Definitely ‘or something,’ in fact very definitely ‘or something’ I’d say.” Amanda grinned at her adversary in a way she knew to be attractive to the point of irresistibility. But not this time. The eyes that calmly observed her grin—and everything else about her—remained as chilly as the Atlantic in March. Amanda shivered and despite her determined bravado, the grin faltered. To hide the moment of uncertainty she took a long swig of beer, sucking hard through the quarter of lime wedged in the bottle’s neck. The icy bubbles and acid juice traces hit the back of her throat and she coughed and spluttered. In the same moment she realized she had automatically thought of Clancy as an adversary. She coughed some more, carefully, behind her hand, and thought—hardly surprising, given how rude she is. Amanda set down the bottle on a coaster, leaned back on the banquette and took a careful breath.

  Across the low table Clancy watched her without sympathy, but with some interest. The twinkle in her gray eyes even hinted that she was amused, damn it. Amanda took a paper napkin from a small stack beside the peanut dish and dabbed at her wet chin and the teary corners of her eyes. Sitting beside his elder sister, Malcolm seemed frozen with indecision; he was clearly not going to defend Amanda.

  “You okay, sweetie? You gonna live?” Natalie’s ironic, teasing words were so much not what Amanda needed from her girlfriend at this precise moment. Neither was the hand whacking just a little too hard between her shoulder blades.

  Amanda nodded and managed to get out, “Sure, thanks. I’m fine. And stop that, for heaven’s sakes.” She shrugged away Natalie’s hand and blinked on another cough-driven tear. “I guess it serves me right for trying to explain macroeconomics after a couple of drinks.” She turned back to Clancy who, she saw, was watching them intently. There was something about the way Clancy’s right eyebrow was cocked that riled Amanda and before she could think better of it she said in tones as acid as the lime juice, “Actually, it’s not ‘queen of the world,’ Clancy. The term is ‘master of the universe’ or ‘BSD’ and they’re both kinda old-fashioned, very twentieth century, in fact. I think you’re getting mixed up with Titanic and—you know—Leo DiCaprio.” She held out her arms as if about to launch herself into the air. “‘I’m king of the world!’ and all that shit. That’s not me at all, but I guess you’re not up with it Down Under.” She smiled again and was pleased to see—despite the low lighting of the bar—a flush rise from Clancy’s throat and into her face. That beautiful face, that mean, beautiful face in which the gray-blue eyes stayed as cold as cold and defied the blush, which somehow seemed to light her golden skin from within.

  Natalie frowned, her eyebrows forming a query. “BSD?”

  Amanda smirked. “Big. Swinging. Dick.” Natalie slapped her knees and let out a bellow of laughter.

  Clancy’s expression was even colder than her eyes. “Oh please,” she muttered, her right eyebrow doing that thing again. “I can’t believe you still say things like that.” She stood, grabbed her purse and looked at Amanda with scorn in her eyes. “Did you ever read any of the statements issued by your Federal Reserve about the dangers posed by your lovely ‘risks’? Perhaps you don’t recall their concern back then about the backlog of confirmations for credit derivatives trades?” She glanced at Natalie and Malcolm. “Sorry if I seem to be speaking in tongues but actually that’s what this is all about. Those who speak the language want to keep it that way.”

  “Ha!” Amanda snorted her mock outrage at this smart-assed foreigner towering over her with that amazing blond hair and cheekbones. “And what would you know about this market?”

  “Enough to know that the ‘risk’ you think you’re taking is nothing compared to the risk you’re exposing the entire financial system to. I’m afraid you’re playing in a very dangerous game, Amanda, and I know you don’t have a clue.” She shook her head and held up her hand as Amanda began to splutter. “You’ll have to excuse me; I’ll be right back.” Clancy turned and walked away, steering a determined course between the tables and chattering drinkers until she disappeared.

  Amanda watched her in amazement and outrage; saw the tight set of the shoulders beneath the crushed linen jacket and the angle of Clancy’s head and lusciously tossing hair. Malcolm groaned and dropped his head in his hands and Amanda’s mood of defiant hilarity began to dissipate. But she grinned brightly at him and Natalie.

  “Oops, that’s done it, I suppose,” she said, with determined lightness. “Are you going to murder me, Malcolm?” She reached for the glass of wine that Clancy had abandoned and downed the contents in one swallow. “I have to say she’s pretty damn upfront with her criticism though. What the hell does she know about derivatives? She’s just a journalist, for Pete’s sake.”

  Malcolm groaned again and shook his head as he peered at her from between his fingers. But before he could speak Natalie got in first.

  “Oh fuck, Malcolm,” she said, her voice sharp enough to cut through the muted murmurs of the chic bar, causing casually turned heads and appraising glances. “And fuck your stuffy sister. If she doesn’t have a sense of humor that’s her fucking problem.”

  “It’s not really about a sense of humor, Nat,” Malcolm said from behind his hands. “Clancy is a financial journalist, one of the best known financial journalists in the country. And she’s just published a book back in Australia.”

  “So what?” Amanda lifted her chin, trying for defiance. “Anyone can write a book.”

  Malcolm sighed. “As I said, she’s a finance writer, the book is about global finance.”

  Amanda snorted. “Right. Another boring academic doorstop with pie charts and graphs. Can’t wait.”

  Malcolm looked up, his normally placid expression replaced by a frown. “Don’t be a smartarse, Amanda,” he said sharply. “It’s been a big seller in Australia. Controversial, appa
rently. That’s why she’s here.”

  “Really?” Amanda’s right eyebrow rose. She was not convinced. “And the title? So I know to look out for it on the remainder stack?”

  “Just quit, you’re not funny.” Malcolm’s tone was harder than Amanda had ever heard before. She saw his eyes were dark and angry.

  “Hey,” she held up her hands, “sorry, okay? No offense.”

  “That’s all very well,” he continued, glaring into her eyes; she barely recognized her habitually gentle friend. “But you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Amanda backed off further. “Okay. I said I’m sorry—I really am. Okay? So what’s the book called?”

  They locked eyes for a few seconds longer, then Malcolm’s innate good nature—and sibling pride—won out and he sighed. “The title is Gone South—How Wall Street Went AWOL and Never Came Back.” He took a long swig of his drink.

  Amanda hesitated then wrinkled her nose. “Right,” she said softly. “I’ve heard of it. You’re right—it is controversial. Wow, so she wrote that?”

  “Oh puh-lease.” Natalie’s disdain flew across the table with a speck of peanut.

  “Nuh, I’ve been a jerk,” Amanda said and held up her hands to Malcolm in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry, Mal, I really am. You should have told me before this. I’ll apologize to Clancy if she comes back. I’m going to order another round of drinks. Same again?”

  “Whatever.” Natalie’s sigh was gusty and she fidgeted and looked about the room. “This is so not my idea of a good time, Amanda.”

  “You promised, Nat.” Amanda looked down at her girlfriend’s pouty expression and jogged her knee with her own. “Come on, be fair.”

  “One more drink then I’m outta here. I’m not sticking around, ’kay?”

  It was Amanda’s turn to sigh. “Okay, but I will. I promised Malcolm and I told you that days ago.”

  “Whatever.” Natalie rolled her eyes heavenward.

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t come on like my mom.”

  “Do you two ever do anything but bicker?” Malcolm slipped his arm about Amanda’s waist as she stood beside him and gave her an affectionate squeeze, suggesting that he may already have forgiven her. His blue eyes twinkled with warmth but were otherwise the same wide, catlike shape and depth as his sister’s slate-gray pupils.

  “No, it’s what we do best, I’m sure you’ve noticed.” Natalie’s snipped words were at odds with her grin and the grin didn’t win the brief tussle with a sour twist to her mouth.

  “And I was rude and childish,” Amanda said with a sigh. “And I bet Clancy’s sitting on the john right now thinking everything she’s ever believed about boorish Americans is true.”

  Malcolm snorted and gave her another squeeze before looking up at her with a lopsided and sheepish grin. “Um, it’s sort of worse than that, really. I think I’ve neglected to tell you that she’s here to meet an American agent because a couple of the big publishers want to take the book. Apparently they also think she’s written something spectacular.”

  Amanda closed her eyes and groaned. “Oh God,” she muttered, “And I’ve just been a total asshole. No wonder she looked at me like I was something she wanted to scrape off her shoe. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  Malcolm shrugged. “You never seemed interested and I didn’t like to shove my brilliant sister down your throat.”

  Amanda considered his reasoning for a long moment and felt an unaccustomed sense of discomfort and embarrassment. “Well I really am sorry, Mal. Maybe I’ll go look for her and apologize.”

  “Apologize!” Natalie’s voice rose half an octave. “What for? Because you mentioned big swinging dick? Ooh-ooh! Potty-mouth Amanda.”

  Malcolm groaned and laughed simultaneously. “Shut up, both of you.”

  Amanda shrugged off his arm. “It was crass.” She looked down at Natalie. “It was crass, Nat, and she’s a guest in our country and I’m going to make it okay.”

  Natalie’s pout returned. “Well, don’t expect me to trot along behind you. Do world peace if you want, but don’t get all Nelson Mandela on me.” She stood up and grabbed her purse off the table. “Looks like the drink won’t be coming for a while so I think I’ll be getting along. I have an opening party to check out and I have to tell you that’s a lot more important to me than makin’ nice with the ice queen.” And before either Malcolm or Amanda could say another word, Natalie was on her way, cutting a striking figure as she strode between the tables, head high, russet ringlets tossing, ostentatiously ignoring the curious eyes of well-dressed Manhattanites as they took in her artfully tattered gypsy look.

  “Oh God,” Amanda muttered. “Sorry Malcolm.”

  “No worries kiddo,” he said lightly, but a frown creased his forehead. “You two really do fight all the time, you know that? Is that what does it for you?”

  Amanda snorted. “We do not. We…” She stopped mid-sentence and thought for a second. “Okay, yes we do. And no, I don’t like it, but she makes me so mad.”

  “And you obviously make her mad; always did. You’re a weird pair.” Malcolm looked about the room once again. “Why don’t I get us another drink and you go see if you can make it up with Clancy? Groveling would be good.”

  Amanda snorted. “Me? Grovel?”

  He patted her arm. “Try it—just for me. Come on, this is the first time I’ve seen my sister in a year and I want you two to like each other.”

  “God,” Amanda moaned. “You don’t ask for much. And admit it, you just want an excuse to eyeball that spunky barman.”

  “Spunky? Who, him?” Malcolm’s eyes widened and his dark lashes fluttered innocently.

  Amanda punched him on the arm. “I’ll go find her and we’ll meet you at the bar.”

  She found Clancy at the powder room mirror, reapplying satiny pink lipstick to her lower lip. The room smelled of disinfectant and weird mixes of perfume, but nothing natural, good or bad. A young woman stood at the far end of the mirror wall checking her profile and tucking in a nonexistent tummy. Clancy’s eyes caught Amanda’s reflected gaze and held it; the look was not friendly, but it was not quite as bad as the earlier death stare. Amanda took a deep breath and moved to stand beside her best friend’s sister; but not too close.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, hoping that the preening stranger at the other end of the mirror was out of earshot. Clancy made no response and Amanda spoke again to the reflection, “I said I’m sorry.”

  “I heard you the first time.” Clancy’s voice was a murmur. “What are you sorry for?”

  “Pardon me?” Amanda’s eyes widened as she stared at Clancy’s face in the mirror.

  Clancy’s chilly eyes warmed fractionally as she smiled. “Why are you sorry? For being crude or for being an idiot?”

  “Holy shit, you are some piece of work!” Amanda breathed the words, but the young woman at the far end caught her tone and the crackling aggression in the air. She glanced at the two women and, apparently sensing their antipathy, grabbed her purse and hurried out.

  Clancy glanced at the closing door. “Well, she’s never going to win a medal for valor,” she remarked, and folded her arms across her chest and leaned back to look directly into Amanda’s eyes. “But I don’t know about you, Ms. Queen of the World, I don’t get you at all. My brother told me you’re his best buddy, that you were the silver lining to what was a pretty dark time for him when he first came to New York all on his own. Did you know that?”

  “Really? That’s great. I met him at a dinner party and we just got talking. He’s my only real boy friend, you know? He’s a great guy. My mom adores him!”

  Clancy nodded and smiled and Amanda saw her rigid posture relax as they both pondered the absent paragon. Amanda gazed into Clancy’s eyes, trying to fathom their depths but failing to get past the gray barrier. The burnt honey-streaked blond hair glowed in a shimmering aura around her strong, angular face. />
  “You are really beautiful.”

  Clancy’s expression barely changed but shock registered in her eyes and her lips twitched into another glimmer of smile before freezing again. At that moment, Amanda realized the words had come out of her own mouth and she covered it with her hand and said, “Omigod, did I just say that?”

  Clancy looked around the empty powder room and shrugged; her mouth once again broke its stern line and the smile returned. “No, I don’t think so,” she said reassuringly. “It would have been one of these other women.”

  She dropped her lipstick back into her purse and snapped the clasp; she looked at herself in the mirror, tucked an errant ringlet behind her ear and turned back to Amanda. “Shall we go find my brother? Otherwise he might elope with some big swinging dick and leave us stranded.”

  Amanda knew she was goggling at Clancy’s provocative joke and she deliberately shut her mouth and followed her, feeling like a puppy on a leash; a puppy that had just been chastised for disgracing herself then forgiven with a tickle under her chin.

  Chapter Two

  Rewind to 2008

  The first day I arrived on Wall Street the sun was shining, it was a glorious morning and I was queen of the world, damn it. Suddenly self-conscious as she walked along the subway corridor, Amanda glanced around to make sure the thought had really been uttered in her head and not out loud. With the cataclysmic news of Lehman’s filing for Chapter 11, and rumors flying up and down the street of other banks tottering and hundreds of hotshots being shown the door, today was definitely not the day to be seen talking to yourself.

  She checked herself in a convenient window of reflective glass as she passed by. Her spiky, pixie cut silver-blond hair showed off a perfectly shaped head and elegant neck. The window exaggerated her skinny frame but she knew her legs were long and slim anyway, just as she also knew her big brown eyes made older people tell her she looked like Twiggy. And because she’d Googled the Swinging ’60s model she knew that was good and also how to apply mascara and eye shadow to enhance the look.