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One Eighty Blitz

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Mystery, Thriller
Date Published: September 2019
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Can an off-kilter doctor and private investigator save his true love from killing more women and destroying the NFL?
Once a pro-prospect quarterback, Var becomes a doctor instead and joins the Navy, helping Marines in Iraq. But an IED ends his career, sending him minus one leg and one arm, and a scrambled brain back to his home in the Front Range of Colorado. Mirror and music therapy, usually one-hundred-eighty-second rock songs, helps his phantom limb pain and depression. Yet his mind dances into strange, sometimes clairvoyant thoughts. He is desperate to rekindle a one-and-only true love, Angela, while taking over his father’s private investigator business and practicing part time medicine. His Marine friends join him: Buddy a dangerous killer whose war-damaged mind allows him to only look at people through a mirror or glass, where he sees their true selves; OJ Cromwell, a Marine cop, burned out as a New Orleans detective, now a local detective; Lisa, a beautiful licensed PI who more than helps Var, and secretly loves him. Var’s investigation of an injured NFL player leads to Angela and her husband, a retired judge, discovering they are sex trafficking illegal immigrant women with a twist: Angela uses a hypersexual and hyper-strength drug that starts killing the women and will destroy the NFL. And then comes the murder.
Can Var save his soulmate and the NFL without losing his “brothers” of war?
In the end, everything is the opposite of what it seems.
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About the Author

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Milt Mays won the Paul Gillette Writers Award for thrillers/suspense in 2011. He grew up in Colorado, graduated from the Naval Academy and, after traveling the world as a Navy doctor, returned to the Front Range. He became a fly-fishing guide, then worked for the VA in primary care. Fly fishing, acoustic guitar, and bicycling are passions. He has four other novels, some set in Colorado, all involving the military. Please visit his website: www.miltmays.com.
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Boy Interrupted Blitz

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Suspense, Thriller
Date Published: June 2019
Publisher: Page Publishing
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Boy Interrupted is a gripping and potent detective novel depicting the tortured early childhood and psychotic break of Kenny Hanson, a motherless boy raised by a pedophiliac father. Later, a dedicated team of investigators races to find the perpetrator and the motive behind a shocking series of grisly murders across the state of Indiana.
Explore the psyche of a rampaging serial Killer. The ultimate crime drama outlining the parental abuse that creates a monster. An innocent child abused to the point of insanity.
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About the Author

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Indiana novelist, Patrick King details the story of an innocent child whose pedophilial father and his band of like-minded perverts, abuse that child to the point of insanity. Watch that once innocent little boy evolve into the rampaging serial killer whose spree of gut-rending murder and mayhem eluded not only the F.B.I., local law enforcement and a statewide web of investigators for an entire year! “Boy Interrupted” will break your hear. And make you cry. You will never be the same.
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Son of Thunder Blitz

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The Esther Brookstone Art Detective, Book Two
Mystery, Suspense, Thriller
Date Published: September 2019
Publisher: Penmore Press
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#2 in the “Esther Brookstone Art Detective Series,” this sequel to Rembrandt’s Angel has Esther Brookstone, now retired from Scotland Yard, obsessed with finding St. John the Divine’s tomb, using directions left by the Renaissance artist Sandro Botticelli. Esther’s search, the disciple’s missionary travels, and Botticelli’s trip to the Middle East make for three travel stories that all come together in one surprising climax.
Esther’s paramour, Interpol agent Bastiann van Coevorden, has problems with arms dealers, but he multitasks by trying to keep Esther focused and out of danger. The reader can also learn how their romance progresses, as well as travel back in time to discover a bit about Esther’s past with MI6 during the Cold War.
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Praise for Son of Thunder:
“This is an exceptionally well-crafted and well-researched novel. Even though I haven’t read the previous novel in the series, I had no trouble becoming invested in the story and getting involved in the protagonists’ lives. I enjoyed the connection between Esther and Bastiann and how they seemed to balance each other out. While Esther is a firecracker, Bastiann is the calm soul that brings her back to earth while helping her fly. I also enjoyed how Esther seemed to bring a lot to the story. From her quirky personality to her great sense of humor, she made things work while having a grand time. The development of the story was great, the plot was incredibly rich and the characters were super entertaining. It is a great story and I cannot wait for more.” – 5 Stars, Readers’ Favorite
Other Books in the Esther Brookstone Art Detective Series:
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Rembrandt’s Angel
Esther Brookstone Art Detective, Book One
Publisher: Penmore Press
Published: May 2017
A Neo-Nazi conspiracy threatens Europe . . .
Esther Brookstone’s life is at a crossroads. A Scotland Yard inspector who specializes in stolen art, she’s reluctantly considering retirement. A three-time widow, she can’t quite decide whether paramour and colleague Interpol Agent Bastiann van Coevorden should be husband number four. Decisions are put on hold while she and Bastiann set out to thwart a neo-Nazi conspiracy financed in part by artworks stolen during World War II. Among the stolen art is the masterpiece “An Angel with Titus’ Features,” a work Esther obsesses about recovering.
The case sends the intrepid pair on an international hunt spanning several European countries and the Amazon jungle. Evading capture and thwarting death, Esther and Bastiann prove time and again that adrenaline-spiked adventures aren’t just for the young.
About the Author

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Steven M. Moore was born in California and has lived in various parts of the U.S. and Colombia, South America. His travels around Europe, South America, and the U.S., for work or pleasure, taught him a lot about the human condition and our wonderful human diversity, a learning process that began during his childhood in California’s San Joaquin Valley. Evidence of his love of storytelling can be found in his many books in the mystery, thriller, and sci-fi genres. He is a member of International Thriller Writers.
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Focus Lost Tour

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Thriller
Date Published: April 2019
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
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The line between passion and obsession runs through us all.
Levi Combs never planned to rocket to stardom.
Eva Florez knew he would the moment she saw him.
Gabe Adams didn’t want anything to do with celebrities.
But after Gabe’s sister sells his photos of Levi with a young starlet to a tabloid website, their lives become intertwined forever, bound by rage and retribution.
Blending the nuance and insight of literary fiction with the big-screen magic of a Hollywood thriller, Focus Lost whisks readers into a world of temptation, indulgence, and revenge, daring them to take a bite of the forbidden fruit.

Excerpt 

Standing on a rock abutment, Gabe Adams wipes the sweat from his tanned, bearded face and closely clipped blonde hair. A black Nikon D5 camera dangles from his neck. He lifts the camera and zooms across the gorge to a horsetail waterfall that fans out and falls into a circular plunge pool fifty-feet below. He had been there since sunrise scouting and shooting the area after receiving a tip about this place from a patron viewing the photos for sale at his stand in downtown LA. Adjusting the lens, he snaps several shots, followed by more fine-tuning and clicking of the shutter. 

Along the creek below, Levi and Emily hike into Gabe’s shot. Emily says, “This is gorgeous. You own all this?” 

Levi stops by the edge of the pool, removing his shirt. His broad shoulders and angular back glisten in the gleaming afternoon sun. “Not this part. Just to the edge of the canyon.” He kneels down and splashes water on his face, rubbing it over his hairless chest and arms. 

From his elevated vantage point, Gabe lowers the camera in frustration. He whispers to himself. “Jesus. Get out of there. 

You’re ruining the shot.” He returns the camera to his eye and snaps more pictures, zooming in on Emily and Levi.

At the edge of the creek, Levi strips down to his black boxer briefs. Emily, all traces of the little girl gone, scans him up and down. “I’m surprised Mr. Paranoid isn’t worried about paparazzi.”

Levi plunges into the water and resurfaces. “No chance some fat piece of shit photog could’ve followed us. Why do you think I love it out here? It’s one of the few places I feel safe and away from all the bullshit. That’s why I wanted you to see it. You need to find a place like this.”

Surveying the area, Emily removes her tanktop and drops her shorts. She thought he was bringing her out for another reason and doesn’t want to waste any more time getting to it. Levi swims away toward the waterfall to avoid leering at her lean, developing frame. Furthering her intentions, Emily removes her bra and panties and jumps in. She buoys above the surface and blows water from her lips. “Whoa! Why didn’t you tell me it was so cold?”

“Good for the circulation,” he says, ducking his head under the falling water. “You’ll get used to it. Don’t be such a baby.”

She swims to him and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her body against his. “Come here and keep me warm.”

Levi tenses. “What are you doing?” He steps back, but she doesn’t let go and floats along with him. He reaches for her locked arms. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Who’s being a baby now? I mean, why bring me all the way out to the middle of nowhere if you didn’t want this to happen?” She keeps her body tight against his. “No one is going to know. You said yourself, we’re completely alone.”

He leans back. “Still—”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Emily slides down along his body and disappears underwater. Levi’s eyes widen. His lower half wiggles back and forth under the surface. Emily pops up and throws his wet briefs to shore. “That’s more like it.” 

“Emily, we really need to—” 

She clips his words with a kiss. Levi cups her shoulders, pushing her away. She presses tighter against him. He surren-ders, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. 

Up above, Gabe watches through the zoom lens. Uncomfortable with the voyeuristic direction his shoot has taken, he lowers the camera, but raises it seconds later, snapping more pictures. 

In the creek, the waterfall crashes behind Levi and Emily. She climbs up on him, clamping her legs around his waist. He says, “Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” She nods and bites her bottom lip. “This is perfect.” She eases herself onto him and rocks back and forth. Levi crouches down and supports her slight weight with his thighs. She thrusts harder. The water splashes between them and shoots up their stomachs and chests. Levi matches the intensity and timing of her movement, but his legs tire and ache. He walks her to the shore. 

Kissing his neck, she says, “What are you doing? Don’t stop now.” 

“Don’t worry. Stopping is the last thing on my mind.” Still cradling her around the waist, he spreads his shirt and shorts with his foot and lowers her to the ground. “Isn’t this better?” His body covers hers. Visible only are her arms and legs sticking out each side and wrapping around him. 

“Mmm-hmm,” she coos. “I love feeling you on top of me.” 

Gabe creeps backward off the abutment into the tree line, his lens remaining on them. He knows it’s wrong, but he doesn’t stop. The camera clicks in rapid succession as he retreats onto the trail. A rock tumbles down the canyon wall. 

It collides with others on the way down, jarring them loose. They hit with a staggered thump onto the canyon floor.

Startled, Levi pulls back from Emily. He looks up in Gabe’s direction, scanning the area for movement.

Emily kisses him. “Come on, keep going. It’s nothing.” She tightens her thighs around him and grinds her pelvis in a circular motion. 

Levi rotates with her, but he keeps scanning the canyon wall. Sunlight reflects off Gabe’s camera lens, revealing his position. Levi separates from Emily. “Someone’s here.”

Emily pulls him back toward her. “Come on. It’s just your imagination.”

“No. I saw a reflection.” He rocks back onto his knees and stands.

Through the lens, Gabe watches Levi looking directly at him. Gabe lowers the camera and charges off into the trees. 

By the creek, Levi yanks his clothes out from underneath Emily and throws them on. Feeling deserted and vulnerable, Emily covers herself with her arms and hands. “Levi, come back down here. I’m cold. It’s nothing.”

Levi turns away from her and scours the rock face for the best way up. “Just get dressed and wait here.”

“What?” Emily gasps. “You’re leaving me?”

“I’m going to catch this loser and beat him with his camera.” Levi jams one foot then the other into his shoes, not even bothering with the socks.

Emily sits up. “I can’t believe you. You’re being ridiculous.”

“You, want to see ridiculous? Wait for the shitstorm that follows if those pictures get out.” He turns and runs off along the creek.

In the woods, Gabe, cradling the camera in one arm and the case in the other, scrambles along a trail. He approaches a fork in the path. Unsure which way to go, he stops and scans side-to-side. Stuffing the camera in the bag, he opts to go right. 

Levi angles away from the creek. Experienced with the terrain, he moves quickly and efficiently up a rooted trail to the woods. He weaves around, over, and under trees and branches, leaving the path, and cutting straight through the woods. 

Lost in the woods, Gabe panics. His heart pounds, lungs heaving. He pauses to catch his breath and hears Levi yelling in the distance. “You better run. I’m coming for you.” Gabe takes off again, still unsure exactly where he is or if he is going in the right direction. 

Levi stops to get his bearings and listen. Through the trees, he spots Gabe. “I see you, asshole. You’re mine.” He angles to the right, calculating where to intercept. 

At edge of the woods, Gabe views the canyon road through the trees and empties his lungs in relief. With the camera case cradled like a football, he pumps his arms to go faster, but his legs, heavy from use, don’t cooperate. His brown Suburban sits on the side of the road fifty yards down. Darting in that direction, he lets go of the camera case and rummages through his pocket for the keys. The case swings behind him, dangling by the strap around his neck and banging into his backside as he bounds down the road. With the distance between him and the Suburban narrowing, he locates the keys in his pocket and presses the button to unlock the vehicle. The lights flash, the horn beeps. 

Exhausted and out of breath, Gabe shuffles the remaining fifteen yards to the vehicle. He checks behind him again, still not seeing any sign of Levi. The camera case swings around to his left side. As he collects it in his arm, only steps from the Suburban, Levi bursts out of the woods and tackles him. They roll on the ground struggling for control. Levi maneuvers on top of him, pinning Gabe facedown on the ground. Levi drives his fists into Gabe’s back and head. “How the fuck did you find us?”

Gabe fights to free himself, struggling to get out any words. “I—just—there—waterfall.” Levi is too strong for him. Gabe stops fighting back.

Straddling Gabe with a firm grip around the back of his neck, Levi grabs Gabe’s shoulder and flips him over. Levi studies Gabe for a moment to see if he recognizes him. “Who the fuck are you? Who do you work for?” His hesitation lowers his guard. Gabe rips his right arm free and grabs hold of the strap of the camera bag. Swinging with all his might, he hits Levi in the side of the head with the bag. Dazed, Levi falls over to the left. 

Gabe kicks him off and scrambles to his feet. “I don’t know who the fuck you are. I was just there for the waterfall.”

Levi lunges and grabs Gabe’s right leg. “I need those pictures.”

Gabe delivers another blow with the camera bag to free himself. Disoriented, Levi scrambles to get up but stumbles, sliding headfirst across the stones.

Gabe yanks open the Suburban door and leaps inside, immediately activating the locks and starting the vehicle.

Levi, on his hands and knees, shakes off the wooziness and lumbers toward the Suburban, which roars to life. He yanks each door handle as he passes along the driver’s side. Banging on the window, face to face with Gabe, Levi says, “You’re mine, motherfucker. There’s no place to hide. Nowhere to go that I won’t find you.” Gabe shifts the vehicle into drive. Levi slides around to the front and backs into the middle of the road. “What are you going to do now? You’re going to have to go through me.”

Gabe pulls off the side of the road, spraying stones behind him. He drives directly toward Levi, who holds his position in the middle of the road. Gabe swerves at the last second into the other lane. Levi slaps the side of the Suburban with his hand as Gabe speeds by. “Fucking coward!” 

Gabe angles the Suburban back to the right lane. In the rearview mirror, he watches Levi shrink in the distance. The camera case strap twists around his neck and heaving chest. He untangles it, his hands shaking, and tosses the case on the seat next to him. 

Still standing in the middle of the road, Levi removes his phone from his pocket and dials his agent. “Eva, it’s me. You still got that contact at the LAPD? Good. We have a bit of an issue. I need you to have him look up a license plate. Three-apple-prince-rainbow-one-four-four… Yep, that’s it… I’ll explain later. We’re still on for six at the Polo Lounge, right? Of course, I’ll be on time. Okay, I’ll see you then.” He returns the phone to his pocket and heads back into the wooded area. 

Following the path on the way back, he winds through the forest to the waterfall and climbs down to the creek. Emily sunbathes in her bra and panties, using her shirt and shorts for a blanket since Levi took his. 

Levi walks up and stands over her, casting a shadow. “Come on. Hurry up and get dressed. We got to get back to the city.” 

She cups her hands over her eyes, her stomach muscles tightening as she tilts her head up at him. “About fucking time you got back. Did you at least catch him?” 

“I did but he got away.” Levi turns, kicking a rock into the creek. “I got his license plate though. Eva’s going to track down who the piece of shit is.” 

Emily remains reclined on the ground. “Let her deal with it. That’s what we pay them for.”

Levi glances over his shoulder, noticing Emily is not moving. “No, I need to meet her anyway. She said she has some good news to share.”

Emily sits up, pressing her finger into her bicep to check how much sun she got. “So, you brought me all the way out here and now we’re just going to turn around and rush back? Un-fucking-believable.” Levi walks away from her. She slaps her hand on the stones next to her. “At least come and help me up.”

Levi spins around and plods back to her. Looking up at the waterfall, he extends his hand to help her up. “Believe me. You don’t want those pics getting out any more than me.”

“I’m not ashamed of my body.” She puts one hand in his and holds up the other for him to grab hold. “Everyone thinks we’re doing it anyway.”

“Come on, hurry up. Every minute is critical.” He scoffs, reaching over with the other hand and pulling her up in one forceful motion. 

Continuing her momentum, she falls into his chest. “You sure we can’t just take a break and finish what we started?” She drags her finger down his nose and across his lips.

He steps back, looking past her up at the waterfall again. “Are you nuts? Let’s deal with one problem before we create another.”

“Ugh. You’re such a buzzkill.” She turns away and bends over to pick up her clothes, intentionally presenting her ass in his direction. “Just because you play my dad in the movie doesn’t mean you have to act like him.” She slips on the shorts and tanktop and slides into her sandals.

Levi shakes his head. “You’re fucking twisted, you know that?”

She shuffles over to him, cupping her hand on his crotch, leaning up, and kissing him on the cheek. “That’s what you love about me, Daddy.”

About the Author

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Doug Cooper is the author of the award-winning novels Outside In and The Investment Club and 2019 thriller Focus Lost. Always searching, he has traveled to over twenty-five countries on five continents, exploring the contradictions between what we believe and how we act in the pursuit of truth, beauty, and love.
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The Assignments Blitz

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Thriller, Financial Thriller
Published: June 2019
Publisher: Booklocker
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Jonathan Black, the notorious Wall Street equity trader, runs his desk with an iron fist. Without warning, unpredictable events turn his world upside down. Following a “friendly” corporate merger, Blackie learns the desk he used to run is gone forever. The job he cherishes has yielded to computerized, algorithmic formulas. Adding salt to the wound, he must defend himself against charges of felony insider-trading, having made $2.5 million using non-public information. He is on the street, without a job and under the gun.
Agent Margaret Stark of the FBI’s white-collar crimes unit, known for her “take no prisoners” approach, investigates Blackie. Maggie is certain that, after many frustrating months trying to unlock an insider-trading ring, she has found the key. Blackie had the means, motive and opportunity to commit the crime. The reader learns of deep personal reasons fueling her desire to take him, and all like him, down.
A direct attempt, forcing him to come clean is a complete failure. Maggie must accept that Blackie is no ordinary felon. She adopts a more subtle approach. On the surface, she will offer him a chance to clear his name by working several stings, including insider trading, mortgage fraud, jury tampering and a Ponzi scheme, where Blackie is the bait. She calls them Assignments. In reality, she designs her projects to give her adversary the maximum opportunity to trip up. When Blackie initially resists the deal, Maggie uses a carrot and stick. She argues a court would look kindly on his cooperation. On the other hand, if he refuses, she vows to continue to use all her resources to take him down.
As the assignments progress, Maggie learns there is far more to this man than his hostile trading-desk persona. While searching for clues about the illegal trade, she discovers that he is hiding his past and leading a secret, second life, including an insatiable and unexplained need for money. The mystery of the man only intensifies her desire to uncover the truth. Concurrently, the target criminals behind each assignment grow progressively ruthless. The stings are thus, increasingly dangerous. Lives, including Blackie’s are at risk.
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 Excerpt
Chapter 1
I grimace when I see her anywhere near my trading desk.
“Good morning Blackie, how was your weekend?”
Deidra’s voice is pure as if she’s never screamed-out a single word in her life. She sashays across the room in
a blue business-like skirt with a white blouse and a scarf, as if ready to pose for one of those model magazines. Her
dark red nails match her lipstick. She must use a tanning machine. I can’t imagine how much time she spends on that
big jet-black hair. Most female traders I know put their hair in a ponytail at work.
That’s my point, she glams-up every day. It’s all wrong. Why spruce yourself to mud-wrestle? The traders sit
at identical, adjacent workstations. There is little space and no walls. Soon after the market opens at 9:30 a.m., it’s a
scene of messy hair, rolled-up sleeves and undone collars. No one gives a shit how you look. They all understand,
once they put their headset on and their butt in a chair they are to produce trades. When an order comes in, they
shout out the name and the size. By the end of a busy day, half of them are hoarse. There’s the constant hum and
heat from the equipment and the smell of too many bodies close together. After a while, they stand up to stretch; the
chairs kill your back. Don’t you dare miss a trade while you’re in the can. Somebody comes by with coffee and the
lunch cart.
I’m studying the three large LED monitors, each flashing arrows, symbols and headlines in white, red, green
and yellow, giving me valuable market insight.
That’s the only reason any of us are here.
She’s waiting for my response. I don’t acknowledge her. I’ll never understand why some people can’t figure
out what’s important. If this woman replaced her hair dryer with a computer screen and studied the overnight news
instead of filing her nails, she could get a jump on the competition. I wonder how many times I’ve told her that–
enough so I won’t again. That she’s standing next to me wasting time is a clear sign she’s out of touch.
I suspect Deidra and I are close to the same age. I’m thirty-two. Over the years, I’ve picked up wrinkles and
extra belly roll, because I sit all day. Yes, there are things called gyms. Once the market closes, I’ve no energy for
that; I am done like dinner, put a fork in me.
“Blackie?”
Does she think I didn’t hear her? She should know better than to come between my screens and me as I
prepare for the market opening.
I scowl at her.
“Deidra, one of us is working. See if you can figure out which one.”
My voice sounds like sandpaper compared to hers. She makes a feeble gasping noise and shuffles over to her
workstation, where she should have gone. Now, just because she’s a woman, don’t jump to conclusions. I will work
with anybody: female, male, white, black, if you’re green and from Mars, it’s the same. But, if you want to talk
when I’m on the desk it better be about a trade. Besides, I’m not a person you can just walk up to and flap your
gums for no reason. Don’t bother me with the weather, politics or what an over-paid professional athlete did or
didn’t do. I couldn’t care less how your night was or whether you got laid.
Understand this. We sit on a trading desk not at a birthday party. We’re here to help our clients buy and sell
stocks. What we do is cutthroat; the rest of Wall Street does the same thing. We fight for every single transaction.
When you miss one, that commission goes into someone else’s pocket. You can never get it back.
My former boss hired and trained me. Then, without warning, at forty-four years old he keeled over. This
business can take its toll. It sucked, but it got me promoted. He was a weak manager anyway and didn’t run the ship
as tight as he could. Soon after I was in charge, I fired two deadbeats and with Deidra, I’d have had a hat trick, but I
can’t touch the beauty queen. Every time I try, the Human Resources department–HR–says I have to train her and
give her a fair chance. I keep saying, “Impossible. You can’t teach a sense of urgency. We’d be doing her and us a
favor.” They keep saying, “Do it.”
The job requires you to read people, listen between the lines. When I speak with a customer, my view on the
market’s direction, a news flash, or the president’s latest tweet isn’t important. Only the client’s opinion is. I hear
their tone of voice. Do they sound unsure? I try to figure out which way they are leaning, never forgetting they are
all, always motivated by greed or fear. You can’t believe everything they say, because there’s more bullshit on Wall
Street than on a farm. Sometimes the customer is trying to screw you into doing a losing trade at the wrong price,
maybe to cover a mistake he made. If he has paid us lots of commissions, you let him.
Trading takes backbone. When the shit hits the fan, it’s more-often-than-not pointing at you.
My team doesn’t like me. Ask out of my earshot, and stand back. They will call me every name in the book,
which is fine. We aren’t here to make friends. They should thank me; I trained them. They’re now in a league with
the best traders on Wall Street.
My phone bank contains sixty clear plastic buttons, all direct lines. One lights; it’s our biggest client. It’s only
9:15 a.m., which is odd since trading hasn’t started yet. I punch it.
“Blackie here.”
“Blackie, it’s Rocky. We have a huge stock holding for sale. I wanted to show it to you first.”
About the Author

 photo The Assignments Author P.T. Dawkins_zpsmo3bu8o2.jpg

While P.T. Dawkins writes about “crimes of deception,” his primary goal is to create characters the reader will remember long after the book is finished. He studied English at Dartmouth College, and is an active post-graduate learner including MBA and CFA degrees and creative writing training from acclaimed authors.
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