The Futures(18)

“Buy low, sell high?”

“Exactly. If you can get it cheap and find a market for it at a higher price, then that’s all there is. Simple, right? And if you can time it perfectly, then you’re golden. So what’s the cheapest thing you can buy right now in this country?”

“Well, um…”

“You read the news. You see what’s happening with the housing market. We’re right on the edge of a complete collapse.”

“Housing? So buying up cheap housing? And then find—”

“No. Right track, though. Break it down into components, make it liquid. What do you need to build houses? What’s in demand when the market is booming? I’m talking physical resources. Something you can count and measure and ship.”

“Lumber?”

“You would think this would be a terrible time to bet on lumber, with the housing market cratering, right?”

“Right.”

“No one is going to touch it. No one with an ounce of sense. People go looking for an ark in a flood. Who goes looking for more water? So what does that mean, Evan?”

“It’s cheap.”

“Dirt cheap. And that’s where we come in.”

“You guys celebrating something?” Maria asked as she brought over another round, later that same night. We were at McGuigan’s, at our usual booth in the corner. Maria, our regular bartender, was just a few years older than we were. “The weekend,” Roger said loudly. “Why don’t you join us for a round, gorgeous?” Maria smiled with cool tolerance while she stacked our empty glasses. Roger had been leering at her for weeks. “That one’s mine, fellas. I call dibs,” he said when she was barely out of earshot.

I felt my phone buzz with yet another text from Julia. I was supposed to meet her at a party downtown, and my time was up. I went to the bar to pay for my drinks. Roger often laid down his card at the end of the night, picking up the tab like he was some big shot, but I didn’t like the feeling that I owed him something.

“Leaving already?” Maria said. She counted out my change, but I waved it away.

“Yeah. A party downtown. I’m already late.” I wondered why I didn’t mention anything about Julia—that I was meeting my girlfriend at the party, that my girlfriend was the one pestering me to get going. I hadn’t yet found a way to work Julia into any of my conversations with Maria. I wasn’t sure I needed to, or wanted to.

“Have fun, Evan,” she said. “See you next week, right?”

I called her name from across the room. Julia was out on the balcony, staring at the Brooklyn skyline with that same vacant look I’d noticed her slipping into on occasion.

There was a pulse of relief across her face when she saw me, and then her expression clouded back into annoyance. Maybe it would have been better to make up some lie about work and skip the party entirely. But she had insisted I come along. “Jake Fletcher is having a party for the opening ceremonies tonight,” she said that morning, calling after me as I was about to leave. “We have to go. Remember? It’s his parents’ foundation I’m working for, after all.”

The television in the corner showed a massive stadium filled with flag-bearing marchers. I squinted and moved closer through the packed living room. I thought of Michael’s abrupt departure a few hours earlier, and it finally made sense.

A ding had sounded from Michael’s BlackBerry as we were talking. He glanced at the screen and stood up sharply. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ve got a flight to catch. I had one of our researchers pull this material together”—he indicated a blue binder on the desk—“and I want you to get up to speed. We’ll convene when I’m back.” He started down the hallway, and I had to jog to keep up. Before Michael stepped into the elevator, I asked where he was going.

He looked up from his phone, brow furrowed. Then he smiled. “China.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s great. For business, or—” but the doors slid closed.

I’d forgotten about the Olympics until then, but the scene on the TV explained it. He and his wife were probably reclined in their first-class seats at that moment, en route to Beijing. I still hadn’t quite absorbed it—Michael, the legendary and fearsome Michael, had just handpicked me for this big new project. At the party, I tried to pull Julia aside to tell her the news. But she kept shaking herself free of my grasp. She knew everybody there: friends from Boston, from prep school, from college. Most of the time she remembered to introduce me—“Oh, do you know my boyfriend, Evan? Evan, this is so-and-so”—and I’d nod and they’d continue talking. Anyway, I suspected that I had served my purpose the moment I’d walked through the door. I’d proved to Julia that I was a loyal boyfriend who would answer her call, and Julia had proved the same thing to her friends. A lot of them worked in finance, like me, but it didn’t give us anything to talk about. Everyone worked in finance.

As the party ended, I climbed into the cab while she was saying good-bye to someone on the sidewalk. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them we were almost home. Julia was at the other side of the backseat, legs crossed, staring out the window. I felt a jolt at that moment. Annoyed with how the night had gone, with this sour distance between us, that stupid party. Things were about to change for the better, beginning right then.