Read Online No Ordinary Love by J.J. Murray - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.J. Murray
Ads: Link
John asked.
That silver swizzle stick is a stockbroker? She looks as if she’s getting ready for a New Year’s Eve party, not that I’d ever know about going to one of those. I know I won’t have a date this year. Geez, I can see the blue veins in her shins.
“I’m not a stockbroker for Bess Baron anymore,” Lauren said. “I’m on my own now.”
TRUE!
“But you wrote on this application that you were currently employed by Bess Baron,” Mr. St. John said.
“I was employed by them at the time I filled out the application,” Lauren said.
TRUE!
“But that was only three months ago, Miss Gray,” Mr. St. John said.
“I’ve been on my own for the last seven days,” Lauren said.
TRUE!
“Why aren’t you with Bess Baron anymore?” Mr. St. John asked.
“Like I said, I decided to go out on my own,” Lauren said. “I have always wanted to be self-employed.”
LIE!
She got fired!
“Miss Gray, if I gave you a million dollars to invest for me, how would you invest it?” Mr. St. John asked.
“In today’s difficult market,” Lauren said, “I’d invest in long-term treasury bonds, stocks in businesses like JCPenney, Sears, and Sonic, and in commodities like corn, wheat, and sugar.”
What the what? Is this woman high? JCPenney, Sears, and Sonic? I know she got fired now.
“I talked to Mr. Bess and Ms. Baron over at Bess Baron,” Mr. St. John said.
Lauren audibly swallowed. “You . . . did?”
I wish I had a high-definition TV. I know that woman is sickly gray now. She has become her name. She looks like a thin piece of gray chalk with blue veins.
“He says you lost quite a bit of your clients’ money,” Mr. St. John said.
“But the market has been volatile,” Lauren said.
“It’s been steady, Miss Gray, with a slight uptick, actually,” Mr. St. John said. “All of my investments are turning a steady, healthy profit.”
“You must have a lucky stockbroker, Mr. St. John,” Lauren said.
“I’m my own stockbroker, Miss Gray,” Mr. St. John said. “I use E*TRADE and make all the transactions myself. Cuts out the middleman—and the costs.” He leaned forward in his wheelchair. “So, Miss Gray, how much money did you lose?”
“If they had let me stay, I know I would have gotten it all back for them,” Lauren said.
“I’m only curious,” Mr. St. John said. “How much money did you lose?”
“Only a couple . . . hundred . . . thousand,” Lauren said.
LIE!
“The exact figure was six point two million dollars, Miss Gray,” Mr. St. John said.
Trina whistled. “Wow.”
“That’s more than nothing, especially if your clients trust you to invest wisely for them,” Mr. St. John said. “Have you ever made any money for any of your clients?”
Lauren bowed her head. “I guess not.”
TRUE!
“We also checked your credit score,” Mr. St. John said. “You have the lowest score of anyone who applied to be on this show—and one thousand women applied, Miss Gray.”
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not on there. I think I have the lowest credit score you can get.
“I’ve had some . . . setbacks,” Lauren whispered.
TRUE!
“Why are you really here?” Mr. St. John asked.
Lauren looked up. “To meet you, Mr. St. John. To hopefully be your wife.”
“Aren’t you really here to use your assets to get my assets?” Mr. St. John asked.
Good one!
“But I don’t have any assets.”
TRUE!
“I had to rent this dress.”
TRUE!
Oh, that’s embarrassing. Wait. I’d have to rent a nice dress, too.
“Miss Gray, I cannot marry a woman who routinely mismanages money, has little business sense, gives ridiculous investment advice, lies often, and has no empathy for her clients. Good-bye.”
“Buh-bye,” Trina said. Maybe she’ll be able to get a job at JCPenney, Sears, or Sonic to help pay what she owes those people.
During the commercial break, Trina read the Second Chances application’s main question: “Why should you get a second chance for
That silver swizzle stick is a stockbroker? She looks as if she’s getting ready for a New Year’s Eve party, not that I’d ever know about going to one of those. I know I won’t have a date this year. Geez, I can see the blue veins in her shins.
“I’m not a stockbroker for Bess Baron anymore,” Lauren said. “I’m on my own now.”
TRUE!
“But you wrote on this application that you were currently employed by Bess Baron,” Mr. St. John said.
“I was employed by them at the time I filled out the application,” Lauren said.
TRUE!
“But that was only three months ago, Miss Gray,” Mr. St. John said.
“I’ve been on my own for the last seven days,” Lauren said.
TRUE!
“Why aren’t you with Bess Baron anymore?” Mr. St. John asked.
“Like I said, I decided to go out on my own,” Lauren said. “I have always wanted to be self-employed.”
LIE!
She got fired!
“Miss Gray, if I gave you a million dollars to invest for me, how would you invest it?” Mr. St. John asked.
“In today’s difficult market,” Lauren said, “I’d invest in long-term treasury bonds, stocks in businesses like JCPenney, Sears, and Sonic, and in commodities like corn, wheat, and sugar.”
What the what? Is this woman high? JCPenney, Sears, and Sonic? I know she got fired now.
“I talked to Mr. Bess and Ms. Baron over at Bess Baron,” Mr. St. John said.
Lauren audibly swallowed. “You . . . did?”
I wish I had a high-definition TV. I know that woman is sickly gray now. She has become her name. She looks like a thin piece of gray chalk with blue veins.
“He says you lost quite a bit of your clients’ money,” Mr. St. John said.
“But the market has been volatile,” Lauren said.
“It’s been steady, Miss Gray, with a slight uptick, actually,” Mr. St. John said. “All of my investments are turning a steady, healthy profit.”
“You must have a lucky stockbroker, Mr. St. John,” Lauren said.
“I’m my own stockbroker, Miss Gray,” Mr. St. John said. “I use E*TRADE and make all the transactions myself. Cuts out the middleman—and the costs.” He leaned forward in his wheelchair. “So, Miss Gray, how much money did you lose?”
“If they had let me stay, I know I would have gotten it all back for them,” Lauren said.
“I’m only curious,” Mr. St. John said. “How much money did you lose?”
“Only a couple . . . hundred . . . thousand,” Lauren said.
LIE!
“The exact figure was six point two million dollars, Miss Gray,” Mr. St. John said.
Trina whistled. “Wow.”
“That’s more than nothing, especially if your clients trust you to invest wisely for them,” Mr. St. John said. “Have you ever made any money for any of your clients?”
Lauren bowed her head. “I guess not.”
TRUE!
“We also checked your credit score,” Mr. St. John said. “You have the lowest score of anyone who applied to be on this show—and one thousand women applied, Miss Gray.”
Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not on there. I think I have the lowest credit score you can get.
“I’ve had some . . . setbacks,” Lauren whispered.
TRUE!
“Why are you really here?” Mr. St. John asked.
Lauren looked up. “To meet you, Mr. St. John. To hopefully be your wife.”
“Aren’t you really here to use your assets to get my assets?” Mr. St. John asked.
Good one!
“But I don’t have any assets.”
TRUE!
“I had to rent this dress.”
TRUE!
Oh, that’s embarrassing. Wait. I’d have to rent a nice dress, too.
“Miss Gray, I cannot marry a woman who routinely mismanages money, has little business sense, gives ridiculous investment advice, lies often, and has no empathy for her clients. Good-bye.”
“Buh-bye,” Trina said. Maybe she’ll be able to get a job at JCPenney, Sears, or Sonic to help pay what she owes those people.
During the commercial break, Trina read the Second Chances application’s main question: “Why should you get a second chance for
Similar Books
