FICTION: TOJ, Chapter 2: Of Wealth and Taste

(In which commodities trader Nik Aleksakis groks the definition of class.)

In the rosy aura of Nik’s early-evening buzz it flashed that generosity was class. Maybe that’s what made it.  Generosity was class.   And of all the people he and Jan knew, Jack and Ellen Bancroft had the most.

Audrey peered up, gathering her thoughts.  “Speaking of the market.” 

Nik dropped his shoulders.  Christ, another round with Annie Hall in front of Jack. 

She said, “I saw there was an explosion in Venezuela yesterday.  An oil well.”

“An off-shore rig,” Nik said. “Yeah.  They’re going to get it under control.”  Nik smiled at Jack and held his glass aloft in a toast. “We’re making a killing on it, by the way.”

Tony’s expression dimmed.  “Doesn’t it bother you at some point, Nik, to always be benefiting from the misfortune of others?”

Nik fixed his brother with an assassin’s stare. “Oh, don’t worry about them.  They’ve got insurance.  No sweat.” 

“No,” said Tony. “I mean for the ecology.  Wildlife.” 

Audrey assented.  “I saw the saddest picture today.  A pelican.  Just soaked in oil.  He couldn’t even lift his wings.”

Janet shuddered with humanitarian empathy.  “You know, they have non-profits who take care of all of that.  Get the birds flying again.”

Nik looked around at the guests.  “The way I see it, there’s no bad news, only bad positions.”

Audrey’s mouth fell agape.  You would have thought he’d just said Jesus was a pedophile. Tony was shaking his head as if Nik’s morals never failed to reach new lows.

Audrey’s voice was on edge.  “So I guess the pelican just took a bad position, is that it?”

“No, it’s not like that.  Think of it as another way to see the bright side of bad news.”  Nik explained that however bad things might appear – oil spills, forest fires, government revolt, terrorist attacks – nothing was necessarily a disaster.  Every event was opportunity. Anything could carry financial rewards for those shrewd enough to be on the right side of the bet.  He took a sip of Bollinger. 

“If I’m well positioned, I’m not gonna lose sleep over some oil-soaked pelican on the ass-end of a Valdez.”  Nik jerked his shoulders back twice in an effort to regain his composure.  “Sucks to be the bird, but what am I, Greenpeace over here?”