Read Online Tender Death by Annette Meyers - Free Book Online

Patchin?”
    “Brooklyn College.”
    “Major, business administration?” Of course.
    “And economics.”
    The waitress placed their breakfast orders on the table unobtrusively and left.
    “How long have you been with Rosenkind, then?”
    “About a year. I worked ... you know ... as a cold caller at Lehman ... you know ... six months before that....” Tormenkov smeared thick gobs of butter on his toast and talked with his mouth full of egg. “I wanted to stay there and be a ... you know ... broker, but they said to go ... you know ... somewhere else and ... you know ... build up a book and come back.”
    “Why did you choose Rosenkind? You probably could have gone to Merrill or Dean Witter or any of the big houses with a training program.”
    “Well, you know ... I didn’t finish at Brooklyn. I only did two years. They all want college degrees, so ... you know ... my uncle knew some guy at Rosenkind through the union. My uncle is a glazier. Anyway, you know ... he was going to help me get started.”
    “And?” It was taking Tormenkov forever to get to the point. If he sold stock that way, he would never make it, she thought.
    “He did. But he ... you know ... I can’t stay there anymore.” He wiped up the residue of egg on his plate with the remainder of his toast.
    “Why? Can you be more specific? If I’m going to represent you to a client firm, Peter, I have to know everything. Do you have any customer complaints against you? Any compliance problems?”
    He shook his head. “No. My U4 is clean”
    “Then why do you want to leave? They will ask when you interview elsewhere. What will you say?”
    “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said, finally lifting his eyes from his plate and looking directly at her for the first time. “I can’t stay there.”
    “What do you want to do, then?” Wetzon’s sixth sense told her there was something wrong with him. “Unless you want to diversify your business, you won’t be happy at a big firm. If you want to stick to stocks and options, you’re better off with Bear, Oppenheimer, or Lehman. What is your trailing twelve in gross?”
    He frowned.
    “I mean,” she said patiently, “what is your gross production for the last twelve months?”
    Tormenkov stood abruptly. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”
    “Of course,” she said, feeling a chill. Every time a broker left her in the middle of a meeting these days, she thought of Barry Stark. She felt, irrationally, that he would never come back, or worse, be as dead as Barry was when she went looking for him. Don’t be a fool, she scolded herself, Pete Tormenkov had left his coat. Much difference that made. Barry, after all, had left his attaché case.
    Come on, Wetzon, old girl. Get out of this. She focused on the skaters, weaving and dipping to music she couldn’t hear. The older couple were still waltzing, stopping here and there to execute self-conscious little turns, aware they were attracting an audience. A young girl did a lovely pirouette.
    “David, you have to keep an open mind,” she heard someone say in a warm but professional tone. “Talk to them and see for yourself. They are getting top-quality work. S and C is referring work to them.”
    A murmured response came from David. Wetzon turned her head slightly, trying to find the speaker. There were certain code words, phrases, that headhunters used: “keep an open mind,” “see for yourself,” “test the waters,” “explore the possibilities,” and her all-time favorite, “you owe it to yourself.”
    “Don’t let someone else make a judgment for you,” the female voice continued, persuasively. “You owe it to yourself—”
    Bingo , Wetzon thought.
    “Okay,” the man said. “I’ll check it out. How does it work? I’ve never done this before.”
    “I know they’re looking for an ’85 litigator with your kind of credentials, so I’m going to send your resumé to Larry Simpson, the hiring