But it was when she saw him again in person – at one of those mandatory, all-hands-on-deck meetings, the very same kind where they’d first connected – that Angela began to realize she needed to start her life over. And that, unfortunately, included finding a new job.
She’d known he’d be at the meeting, of course, given that the firm’s top market analyst would be speaking. In one of the limited number of conversations she and Nick had had about business, he’d spoken highly of this particular analyst, calling him one of the few people in the financial industry who knew what the hell he was talking about.
Knowing that she’d be seeing Nick, she had actually taken care with her appearance for the first time in weeks – making sure her hair was clean and falling in the long, loose style he preferred; applying enough makeup to conceal the pallor of her skin and the near-permanent dark circles under her eyes; digging out one of the dresses he’d bought her – a slim fitting sheath of dark green that wasn’t quite as loose on her as most of her other things. Quite intentionally, she’d also worn one of the choker necklaces he’d given her, as though to send him the silent message that he could still own her if he desired, that all he had to do was crook a finger and she’d come running to him at full speed.
But the only thing Nick did when he happened to glance her way at the meeting was to look right past her as though she wasn’t even there. Angela stood there in stunned disbelief that after all they had shared, all the months she’d spent devoting herself to him, that he could ignore her so completely. Especially since the mere sight of him was making her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt since that awful night when he’d all but dumped her on the sidewalk. Her eyes drank in the sight of him, how sexy and powerful he looked in his black pinstriped suit, and she longed to rush over to him, fling herself into his arms, and beg him to come back to her.
It was then, when she realized how low she’d sunk, how desperate and pathetic she’d become, that she quietly made her decision.
***
Lloyd Raskin stared at her in shocked disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say, Angela. I would have never in a hundred years expected this. Are you – I mean, I thought you were happy here. You’ve certainly been one of the most successful young brokers we’ve ever had. Is it about money? I can’t increase your payout until you’ve been here two full years but -”
“It’s not the money,” she assured him quietly. “I know I get paid fairly, no complaints there. And I am – have been – happy here.”
He shook his head. “Then why the hell are you leaving? Let’s talk this through, okay? See if we can’t find a way to convince you to stay. Unless,” he added in a stern voice, “you’ve already got another job. Is that it, Angela? You got recruited away from us with the lure of a big bonus? If that’s the case -”
“No. That’s not it either,” she confirmed. “It’s – well, it’s personal, Lloyd. There’s some stuff I’m working through right now, and being here makes it impossible to get past it.”
Lloyd frowned. “Personal, huh? Well, I know that no one is harassing you, because you’re too strong a person to take that kind of crap. So it’s got to be a man. And tell me if I’m wrong, but I believe that man is none other than Nick Manning.”
Angela’s jaw dropped open in alarm, but she could tell from the expression on her manager’s face that there was no point in denying it. She looked down at her lap, wringing her hands in agitation. “No,” she whispered. “You’re not wrong.”
“Damn it,” Lloyd cursed angrily. “I should have known. Some of those accounts that came your way – I knew they’d asked for Nick first but that they didn’t meet his criteria. I should have put two and two together then. But I convinced myself that he was just doing what you’d claimed – helping out a fellow Stanford alum.”
“I never asked him for help,” she declared defensively. “When we were together we rarely even discussed business. And I’ve brought in plenty of my own accounts.”
“I know that,” Lloyd replied firmly. “No one would ever accuse you of not working your ass off, Angela. You deserved those accounts. Especially since it seems that Nick’s done a real number on you.”
She glanced up at him in alarm. “What does that mean?”
“No offense, but you look like hell these days,” Lloyd told her bluntly. “Like you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks. You’re a bundle of nerves and I’m betting you haven’t eaten a decent meal since he broke up with you.”
Angela gave a little shrug. “You’re assuming he’s the one who broke things off.”
Lloyd hooted. “Yeah, and rightly so. Women don’t say no to guys like Nick Manning. Ever. And if you’d been the one to end it, you wouldn’t be looking like a ghost right now. Or be resigning from a job you’re damned good at. Tell me what I can do to convince you to stay.”
“Nothing.” Her voice was barely audible. “I just can’t handle it any longer, Lloyd, being in the same office as Nick. Not that I actually see him all that often, but, well, the gossip is flying around fast and furiously since he’s been back on the dating scene. I try to block it out but it isn’t always possible. And knowing that he’s in the same building, so close and yet I can’t see him. It’s just – too hard.”
“Here.” He handed her a wad of tissues as she started crying. “I won’t even ask how badly that bastard hurt you. Nick’s a great guy in a lot of ways – one of the best football players of his generation, a hugely successful broker, a very generous benefactor to several charities. But he’s also a number one asshole most of the time. Damn him to hell,” cursed Lloyd. “What was he thinking of anyway? You’re too young for a shark like him, and he had no business messing with you.”
“I’m – I’m sorry,” sobbed Angela. “I should have never gotten involved with him. I’d heard all the gossip, knew he wasn’t a forever kind of guy. But I couldn’t help myself. The first time we met – it was like touching live flame.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” consoled Lloyd. “If Nick wants something he goes after it with no holds barred. You never had a chance, kid. That’s why I blame him for all of this. He should have left you the hell alone.” He picked up her letter of resignation again and sighed. “So, no chance I can talk you out of this?”
“No. I need to move on and make a clean break. This is the only way that’s going to happen.”
“You realize you won’t be able to take any of your accounts with you, right?” asked Lloyd. “Standard industry rules, except maybe for some family accounts or if the clients insist on following you.”
Angela nodded. “I know. It doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s not like I honestly earned most of those accounts anyway. I’m prepared to start over – in every way.”
“Hell of a waste,” said Lloyd in disgust. “Christ, I wish I had the guts to march into Manning’s office right now and give him a piece of my mind. Or punch him.”
“No!” Angela protested. “Lloyd, please. You can’t say a word. He can’t ever know that I told you about us. He – I promised him.”
Lloyd’s gaze narrowed. “I’d say he can shove those promises up his arrogant ass. But don’t worry, I won’t say anything to him about you. I may be a manager here but Manning’s got a hell of a lot more power. And I happen to like my job.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. And please don’t say anything about my leaving,” she begged. “The last thing I need is for everyone to start asking me why. Or, God forbid, to throw me a going-away party. I just – want to leave quietly.”
Lloyd nodded. “Agreed. Do you have any idea of where you’re going, what you’re going to do next?”
“Not really,” she admitted. “I’ve got some money saved so there’s no huge rush. I’d like to stay in the brokerage business, of course, but I’d consider banking, venture capital, financial planning.”
He hesitated. “I might have an idea. I had lunch with an old buddy who works at Morton Sterling now. Although, you might hate my guts within a week just for suggesting this.”
Angela smiled at him. “I can’t imagine doing that. I’d be grateful for a referral.”
Lloyd grimaced. “Hold onto that thought until you’ve met Barbara Lowenstein for the first time. There’s a reason why her nickname is the She-Wolf of Wall Street.”
Four Months Later
“Close the door behind you. The last thing I need is for any of those nosy bastards out there to overhear us. And, Jesus, hurry it up, will you? I swear for someone as skinny as you are you sure as hell move at a snail’s pace at times.”
Angela shut the door to her boss’s office as instructed and took a seat at one of the chairs facing Barbara’s desk. The chair, she noted without surprise, was practically the only surface in the entire office not covered with untidy stacks of papers, file folders, magazines, and binders. Barbara’s desk was unquestionably the messiest area, with empty food containers and wrappers and half-full cups of coffee joining the piles of papers.
And Barbara herself was a mess, though Angela knew her tough as nails boss didn’t give a rat’s ass about her appearance and never had. At sixty one years old, Barbara Lowenstein had been a stockbroker for more than thirty-five years, and had had to fight and claw her way up the ladder of success in what she’d often referred to as the “good old boys club”. There had been very few female brokers when she’d been hired at Morton Sterling over three decades ago, and certainly no successful ones. Barbara prided herself on being the one who’d not only broken the mold but shattered it in the process. Aspiring young brokers of both genders looked up to her with awe, and many had tried over the years to cultivate her as a mentor. But Barbara had neither the time nor the patience to share her considerable expertise with any of them, and she’d developed a well- earned reputation as a scary, temperamental old witch.
She was a short woman, whose lifelong plumpness had now spread into borderline obesity. Her fashion sense was non-existent, evidenced by the out-of-date, ill-fitting burgundy suit that clashed badly with a light blue blouse. She had short, frizzy hair dyed an odd shade of red that was closer to purple. Barbara didn’t bother with makeup, except for an occasional slash of lipstick, and the only jewelry she ever wore was a plain, masculine looking watch.
Years of being both a heavy smoker and drinker had taken their toll on her features, leaving her skin saggy and wrinkled, her teeth yellowed, her voice raspy with a perennial smoker’s cough. She was also mean as a snake, insulted everyone in the office – including the managers – and went through assistants almost as quickly as she did a carton of cigarettes.
But, as Angela had discovered during the four months she’d worked for the so-called She-Wolf of Wall Street, Barbara also had possibly the most brilliant financial mind she’d ever been exposed to. And in between being screamed at and having insults hurled her way constantly, she had also learned more in the past months about stocks and financial planning and market trends than she had during her four years at Stanford.
Barbara glared as Angela took a seat. “You look like crap this morning, missy. Got another hangover? And don’t try bullshitting me. I’ve been hungover way too many times not to recognize the signs.”
Angela shrugged. “Not exactly hungover, no. Just a bad night is all. What’s up?”
Barbara chuckled, though with her hacking smoker’s cough it sounded more like a witch’s cackle. “Getting right to the point, are you? Or are you just avoiding the question? Doesn’t matter, I’ve always appreciated the fact that you never try to waste my time with worthless chitchat. So here it is, missy. I have never even considered doing something like this in my career but I realize I’m not getting any younger. I need a partner, Angela, and you’re the only person I’ve ever even thought about asking. So what do you think?”
Angela seldom showed emotion these days, her face a permanent, carefully controlled mask of unsmiling indifference. But the news her boss had just shared was more than enough to get a reaction out of her.
“You’re really serious?” asked Angela haltingly. “I mean, the way you’re always yelling at me or telling me I’m stupid and incompetent -”
Barbara waved a hand impatiently. “Jesus, I talk to everyone that way. Always have. And unfortunately most people I’ve had the misfortune to work with in this industry
have
been stupid and incompetent. You at least have potential, someone I think I can actually work with. Besides, you’ve never once tried to answer me back no matter how awful I was to you. Or worse – cried.”
Angela looked down at the floor, her hands clasped quietly in her lap. “I don’t cry. At least, not any longer.”
“Got all that out of your system when that bastard Manning dumped you, huh?” asked Barbara with her usual candor. “I’m glad to hear you don’t cry anymore over that worthless piece of shit. It’s bad enough he turned you into some sort of zombie woman. I’d hate to think you were wasting even one more minute of your life on him.”
Angela had been startled when her boss had confronted her a couple of months after she’d begun working here. Barbara had grown increasingly frustrated when, no matter how loudly she yelled, or how nasty the insults she flung became, that none of it seemed to phase Angela even a little bit. She did her work like a robot, never smiling or showing any sort of reaction, and definitely never crying. Barbara’s current admin assistant – a woman in her late forties named Ginger – had marveled at Angela’s ability to take the verbal abuse.