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

trial run. And,
if the trial was any indicator, my plan for solvency was going to
go pretty well. I was delighted to note that, based on what I’d
done so far, it would be a piece of cake to exceed my expectations.
I mentally splashed cold water on my face, though: the best laid
plans were likely to go to hell where the stock market was
concerned.
    Just before the closing bell I “sold” a
couple of securities that netted me what would amount to a half
year’s wages in my new world. Or, rather, would have had the trades
been real. I knew that, once I started trading with real money, I
was likely to be a little more conservative than I was being with
my pretend portfolio. But I also knew that I was ready: I’d spend
Friday at my computer for good measure, but Monday was D day. I was
going live.
    One of the things I’d been doing during
market hours this week — aside from continuously refreshing my
quotes to see how the stocks I was watching were doing — was to
evaluate various news sources of information in order to keep my
finger on the market’s pulse.
    It’s not enough to track your own securities
or those that catch your interest. You also have to keep a close
eye on what’s happening in the world at large. Especially financial
news: what the Federal reserve is up to, what’s happening with
consumer spending and so on. Even things that might seem unrelated
to the stock market can affect it quite deeply. Keeping up with it
all means a lot of reading.
    So I’d been scouting for sources of reliable
newsfeeds: some of which I then set up to come to me directly in
e-mail. Others were at websites I’d determined deserved various
degrees of watching. I knew from experience that how much of this
stuff I actually read on a daily basis would depend on how hectic
the rest of my day was and how much I needed new blood in the form
of securities I hadn’t looked closely at before. But having the
source of it all in place was important.
    By the closing bell I felt like I’d done a
good day’s work and I looked forward to unwinding with Emily and
Jennifer. This, I told myself, was going to be a whole new chapter
for me. A lifestyle, not just a life. Like millions of disenchanted
Americans before me, I’d come to California to find myself... and —
though it was early to say — I was perhaps was on the path to
succeeding.
    After the bell, I showered in preparation
for my evening out and was just pulling on black pants, a light
sweater with a deeply v’d neck and black boots when the phone
rang.
    “Hey Madeline,” Jennifer’s voice. “I’m in
Santa Monica: I hooked up with friends this afternoon and ended up
going shopping. Can I meet you guys for dinner?” The plan had been
for the two of us to drive in together, but I told her I’d find my
way and — with a few basic instructions — I was set.
    Dinner was fun. For me it was a little like
coming home: having grown up with two sisters, the company of women
is easy and welcoming for me. The banter that erupted very
naturally between the three of us reminded me of being with Miranda
and Meagan: we always had a lot to say to each other, even if it
wasn’t about anything that anyone else would find remotely
interesting. We had a lot to say, and all three of us seemed to
find the other two vastly amusing.
    Emily said she had chosen a place she felt
would appeal to all three of us, and she was right. The restaurant
was cheerful without being chipper and colorful without the strain
of irritating that can go with that. And the company was good.
Emily told a lot of amusing stories about the almost famous people
she’d worked with on the fairly low rent movies she’d worked on. I
could see that Emily’s stories enchanted Jennifer, the would-be
actress, because the girl seemed to hang on Emily’s every word.
    I found myself watching Jennifer as she
raptly listened to Emily’s stories. The teenager was a pile of
contradictions. Not that this was especially