Madeline Carter - 01 - Mad Money by Linda L. Richards

course on the stock
market as viewed from a private home, as opposed to the millions of
dollars worth of connectivity, hardware and source reports that had
always been available to me as part of the trading team at a big
brokerage.
    It was a different world, it was true. If I
wanted to get the kind of Level II quotes and market executions I
was used to, I’d have to spend more money than I was currently
willing to part with.
    I opted instead to use a reliable discount
broker. My trades wouldn’t execute as quickly as they would have
had I been in New York. I told myself this probably wouldn’t
matter: that was the price of not being in New York. And,
anyway, the kind of trading I was planning on doing — and that was
the first time I acknowledged it in that way: as a plan — that kind
of trading wouldn’t require the split second timing necessary on
some of the larger deals I’d made on behalf of clients in days gone
by.
    By the end of the day a full-scale plan —
complete with account application forms filled out and ready to be
mailed and pads scribbled with calculations — had emerged. Even
after the car and my sojourn at the Beverly Hills Hotel and my
furniture and computer shopping forays, I still had close to
$150,000 cash on hand. That might sound like a lot — and in many
ways, it is — but if you’re just taking from it and not adding to
it, I knew it could dwindle pretty quickly. Sure: if I budgeted for
five years, I could live on thirty grand a year before all that
money would be gone. And five years is a long time. But it wouldn’t
just be the money pouring out when it should have been seeping in,
it would be the panic I suspected would approach as I watched my
options — and my cash — dwindling.
    The scribbles on the pad told me that, if I
was careful and mindful and watchful, I should be able to
make five grand a month easily — or $60,000 a year. I knew as well
as anyone that “should” and “could” and even “would” as used in
relation to the stock market can be completely dangerous words.
Especially since all of your plans and schemes and calculations
about the market must always be based on past performance. But if
it was easy, mindless and obvious, everyone would be doing it. I
was, in effect, planning on investing in my training, acumen and
over 10 years experience as a broker for one of the top firms in
the world. The investment was my life savings and my time. The
stakes were, in one way, my peace of mind. The worst case scenario?
I’d lose all my money and be forced to get a job.
    I determined to put it all into motion
quickly, before I had a chance to change my mind. In addition to an
online trading account, I still needed to research various channels
of information to get me to a speed that was in any way comparable
to the things I’d always taken for granted at Merriwether Bailey.
But by the end of that rainy Sunday I knew that Tyler and
Jennifer’s comments had either been prescient or inspiring: I was
going to be a day trader.
    This news seemed momentous enough to demand
sharing but I realized I didn’t have anyone to tell, which left me
feeling pathetic again. I saw Jack’s face, jovial, welcoming,
laughing as I’d so often seen it. I thought of calling my mother in
Seattle, but since I’d just talked to her the evening before I
ruled this out: she’s astute enough that a phone call like that
would have made her realize how sad and needy I currently was. That
meant calling my sisters was out, as well. A call to either of them
would get back to mom which would put her on the alert. And,
anyway, though I loved my sisters, it had been years since we’d had
the type of telephone closeness that some siblings share.
    I was sitting there, feeling sorry for
myself, when the phone rang, nearly causing me to jump out of my
chair.
    “Carter,” I fairly shouted into the phone,
reverting to habit in my uncertainty.
    “Madeline?” It was a woman’s voice and I
recognized it