Chapter 3
Tracy was never one to display her anger violently. When she returned to the office that afternoon, she took Paul Finn aside and quietly but firmly told him she didn't appreciate being used.
"Hey, Tracy, stay calm," he told her. "No one used you. Look, to make things up to you, why don't you let me give you a trust account. It's a small one, I know. But it's a start. I'll instruct the back office you're in charge of the account, and any trades are to be okayed in advance by you. You get full commission. Okay?"
Somewhat mollified, Tracy agreed, though she was far from convinced of Paul Finn's innocence in the matter. She accepted the list of stocks of a Mr. Norman Taylor, and looking at it, she immediately understood why Finn had been willing to give it to her. The account had a total worth of twenty thousand dollars, which, for a trust account, was almost nothing. And the stocks in the Taylor portfolio were the worst drek she had ever seen. Almost every stock was an over-the-counter stock, none of which paid a dividend. Each company's shares had a net asset value of five dollars or less. Looking at it, she was amazed the man had allowed Paul Finn to continue handling the account.
Calling the phone number on the sheet Finn had handed her, Tracy soon discovered why Norman Taylor was so lax. To begin with, the trust account was one of a half-dozen. It was the smallest one Taylor had, and each of the other five were ten times larger. He had given the six different accounts to six different trust departments, or rather, the trust department of six different brokerage firms two years earlier. Each firm had five years to prove it could do the best job, thereby enabling it to receive the other five trust accounts as well.
When Taylor had given this trust account to Jackson & Co., it had been worth close to fifty thousand dollars. Paul Finn had reduced it to twenty thousand in the past two years, trading in and out of more than two hundred rotten securities, taking losses for Taylor while making himself a lot-of commissions. But the account had gotten so low, he dared not fool around with it any longer. This was another good reason for shunting it over to Tracy. Fortunately, the account was not beyond repair, and Tracy intended repairing it as best she could.
"Hi," Steffie Sanders greeted, walking into the trust department office. "How're things?"
Although she was smiling, Steffie had red eyes, and Tracy, quickly to notice, asked, "What happened to you?"
"What do you mean?" Steffie seemingly innocently came back.
"I mean, what happened to make you cry your eyes out?"
"It still shows?" Steffie asked.
"Uh huh," Tracy nodded.
"Did Mr. Finn teach you how to handle a difficult customer?" Steffie asked.
"You, too?" Tracy uttered, her eyes wide open. "That man's insatiable. I lost my virginity to him that way."
"I guess I'm a little luckier than you," Steffie told her. "All he used was my mouth. He told me there'd be further lessons in the future. In fact, he even hinted he would be teaching the two of us together."
"I've already had lesson number two, only it wasn't from Mr. Finn," Tracy told her, and explained what had happened at Doctor Espizza's.
"I get the weird feeling something is wrong here," Steffie told her. "Paul wanted to send me to a dentist he claimed had a big trust account. I got the 'curse' this morning and wasn't feeling any too good, so I told him to postpone it. For some reason he was more agreeable than I'd expected. Now I know why."
"What do you mean?" Tracy asked.
"I mean our fearless leader is using us like a couple of whores. What was the name of the doctor you went to see?"
"Espizza."
Steffie went to the files, saying, "You keep an eye out for Mr. Finn. He's in the order department and we don't want him popping in on us unexpectedly."
So Tracy went to the door, opened it a bit, and peered out. There was no one in the hallway, and the board room was quiet.
"Aha!" Steffie cried out, triumphantly.
"What is it?" Tracy asked, coming back into the room.
"See for yourself," Steffie told her, handing her a large oaktag folder.
Tracy looked at the name on the folder. Ralph Espizza. And when she opened it up and took a quick look, she recognized the same portfolio Espizza had shown her earlier in the day.
"We've been had," Steffie told her.
"What are we going to do?" Tracy asked.
"Well, staying here would be a dumb thing," Steffie told her. "All we'll do is screw more of Mr. Finn's clients. I think we ought to get out of here and try for jobs somewhere else."
"But where?"
"Are you kidding? I watched the way you research a security before making a recommendation. There are half a hundred small houses who deal with the New York Stock Exhange who would be more than happy to employ us. I'm just as thorough as you. We could work together and really do one terrific job for our clients."
"But first we need clients," Tracy reminded her. "Well, Mr. Finn showed us the perfect way to get them, didn't he?" Steffie asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Our bodies. Right now I can't use mine, but in five days I'll be just as good as ever. And why shouldn't we use our bodies for our own accounts instead of Mr. Finn's?"
Tracy thought about it for a moment, then nodded, saying, "You're right, Steffie. And here's a list of all of Mr. Finn's customers. He not only handles the trust department, but he has his own regular customers as well. I'll bet we could work every one of them away from Mr. Finn. Heck, we'd be doing them a favor. He does a lousy job of managing stock portfolios. We could do a better job, but more important, we can offer certain 'fringe benefits' Mr. Finn is incapable of offering. Suppose we hang around until Friday, collect our paychecks, then go to work for another firm."
"I'm with you all the way," Steffie nodded.