We told our parents that we decided to celebrate alone in the city. I bought a tree, which we decorated without any ceremony and with the TV on. We kept it for a week, then I dragged it down to the sidewalk for trash pickup. I don’t think we watered it once. I was relieved when activity picked back up at work. Come January I’m on the trading floor hung up on a trade of casino bonds. The market for them is going the other way. The UBS salesman had asked me to wait on him, thinking he had a bid. By the time he confirmed he didn’t have a bid with his trader, the whole buy side had dropped away and I’m screwed holding the bonds. If I sell at the current bid, I take a six-million-dollar loss to our books and Jerry won’t shut his fat mouth. But I’m not thinking about the bonds and I’m not thinking about Jerry. I can’t get the squirrelly little bastard Oliver out of my head. He’s always walking around smiling and shaking hands, but his eyes are never smiling behind those phony, prescriptionless glasses.
