“How do you know him?”
“You ever heard the termpro bono? Barrett’s served as pro bono attorney on a few child-custody cases I’ve brought to him. And some other things we don’t need to mention in polite company. He’s one of the good guys. When he wants to be.”
Colin had no idea how to respond.
“I imagine your barber friend grew concerned about this young kid who pops in for late night jazz sessions. Well dressed, groomed to the max, getting all fit and tan with his swimming—”
“Stop with all that.”
“What, stop. It’s the truth. So Angelo mentions you to his poker buddy, and the buddy says, maybe I should give this kid a look.” She chuckled again. “I’ll give Jaden a call, tell him you’re another good guy. Did you tell him about your investments?”
“It sort of came out.”
This time she laughed out loud. “Man, I wish I had been a fly on that wall.”
“We’re going to a concert together. Fifth of August. At the Live Oak Bank Pavilion.” The stream of frustrating days ahead seemed endless. “At least I’ve got something to look forward to.”
“Colin, what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t you give me that. Is it just your studies?”
“There’s no ‘just’ to that mess.”
“Is that all it is? If not, you know you can tell me—”
“I’m lonely.” The words tasted hot as lava in his mouth. He felt ashamed for having even spoken. Just the same, there were more pushing, pressing to emerge. “I don’t have any friends my age.”
Celeste gave that a respectful beat, then said, “I’ve been half expecting this. Maybe I should have brought it up before now. You are in a difficult position. Every teenage passage is awful. Don’t get me wrong, but yours is …”
“I know. Special.”
“I don’t like using that word. I was going to say, particularly stressful. And loneliness is a big issue. Other than your physical state, you are not an adolescent. You can’t relate toother fifteen-year-olds except as a prefect. As their superior. Which you are. Not like, you’re better than them.”
“I know what you mean.”
“And because of your age, the people you’re drawn to see you as somewhat beneath their notice. I mean, socially. Which leaves you bereft. I hate having to talk to you like this, but it’s the truth.”
Just having it out, being understood, helped more than he could ever have imagined. “What do I do?”
“You’re going to hate hearing this. I know I would. But the answer is, give it another year.”
“No way.”
“You’ll be taller, you can practice claiming to be older than you are. But until then, well, a lot of the time it’s going to feel like you’re holding your breath.”
Nine days later, the second Wednesday in July, Colin traveled to the bank by himself. The investment manager, Mateo Garcia, was exactly the same, courteous and cordial and grave all at once. He even seemed to be wearing the same slate grey suit. “Roland called me this morning after the two of you spoke. He wished to stress how important it is that I pay the most careful attention to what you have to say.”
Colin was vastly relieved to hear they had spoken. Roland had been tied up with a court case for months. It was the first conversation they’d had since March. “He told me I could trust you.”
“To do what, exactly? Roland didn’t say.”
“I want to take a long position on a stock.” Colin had mentally practiced what he wanted to say all morning. Now the words formed an orderly row in his head. “If you feel like it’s necessary to give me advice, okay, but I’m really not interested.”
Mateo leaned back in his seat. “I see.”
“It’s important that all my instructions are carried out immediately. The same day. The same hour, if possible.”
