Stephanie made a cappuccino in the office kitchenette. She breathed the drink’s aroma in deep. Today she was wearing her usual trousers and shoes, but a soft cotton shirt with a grandfather collar. It wasn’t feminine, but it wasn’t particularly masculine either.
The androgynous look wasn’t quite the statement she’d wanted to make on her first day as a woman, but everything had happened so fast. She hadn’t time to prepare her wardrobe. And until she got hormone replacement therapy, Stephanie didn’t actually want to dress like a woman.
She took a sip of cappuccino and wiped the foam from her upper lip.
Despite the nerves, she had never felt so well. In the past, mornings were difficult. It was a drag getting out of bed, hauling herself to the city centre, and sitting at her desk staring at a computer all day. But today she felt full of hope and optimism.
Not having to talk to Kate last night had been nice too. The only thing that marred it was the uneasy feeling she’d got ever since phoning Dee. She thought Dee might have heard from Kate, but she hadn’t. But Dee had said she was walking by the pier and there was something going on there. Stephanie hadn’t liked the sound of that, but Dee had already said she didn’t know where Kate was, so Stephanie ended the call.
She brought the coffee back to her desk.
Now that her social transition was under way, it was time to think about next steps.
Nearly a year earlier, Stephanie had made an appointment with her doctor, during which she’d admitted that she didn’t feel she was a man. The doctor had referred her to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed gender dysphoria, and, in turn, referred her to an endocrinologist.
Stephanie hated having to keep all that from Kate, but she had been scared of Kate’s reaction. Obviously, she’d been right to be nervous.
Now the appointment with the endocrinologist was finally approaching, and Stephanie hoped she’d be able to begin treatment. She dreamed of oestrogen shots and, eventually, surgery. You had to travel outside Ireland for that. She had her eye on a clinic in the States. Maybe she could combine surgery with a holiday in the sun.
Her phone rang. Jess on the front desk.
“Stephen? Sorry, Stephanie. There are a couple of Gardaí here to see you.”
“Gardaí?”
“Yes.” Jess’s voice went lower. “They look serious.”
Stephanie swallowed. “I’ll be right there.”
She got to her feet and hurried through the office to the reception desk. Two uniformed officers stood there, one male, one female. They were grim-faced.
“Can I help you?”
The female officer said, “You’re Mr. Long?”
Close enough.
“Yes, I am.”
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“Yeah. If you’d like to follow me.”
The conference room was empty, so she took the cops there.
“What’s this about?” Stephanie said once she’d closed the door. There was a moment’s silence.
“You might want to sit down,” the male officer said. “I’m afraid we have some bad news.”
*
When the lunch bell rang, Gareth Gillen shot out of the classroom even before his students. He strode to the staff room, eager for his ham and cheese sandwich and a cup of tea. He ignored the kids streaming into the hallway from all the other classes. Let them fight. Who cared?
Whatever vocation he had originally thought himself to have, it was long gone.
He reached the staff room while it was still quiet. Only the geography teacher, Mrs. Slattery, and the art teacher, Mr. Harris, had got there before him. They were seated by the window, deep in conversation. And the principal, Maggie Connell, was pouring herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen area.
“Hello, Maggie.”
Her eyes widened as she saw his bruised face.
“It looks worse than it is,” he said with a chuckle, though inside he was still seething about what had happened the previous night. “I thought boxing would be a fun way to get some exercise, but no.”
“You need to work on your defence,” the principal said, before going to join Mrs. Slattery and Mr. Harris at their table.
Gareth poured his tea, then grabbed his sandwich from the fridge where he’d left it this morning. He brought them to a table far from the other staff members and sat with his back to them so he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Excited, Gareth took out his phone. The NASDAQ was closed (with SSI up 51% at the end of the previous day’s trading) and he’d already digested the company’s earnings announcement before bed the previous night.
The results were better than expected, and the stock had nearly doubled in after-hours trading. Gareth would have to wait for the market to open properly before he could sell his shares.
Gareth had read the one article he could find in the financial press, which quickly appeared after the announcement.
SSI Beats on Top and Bottom Line.
Now, with shaking hands, he checked if there was anything new.
The first thing he noticed on the stock chart was the big green number showing that the stock had ended the previous day up nicely. The second thing he noticed was the small writing in red, saying that the stock was down 60% in pre-market trading.
What the hell?
Beads of sweat broke out on Gareth’s face. How could the stock be down? It had surged last night and announced spectacular results.
“Don’t be a loner,” Maggie Connell said. Gareth realised the principal was speaking to him. “Join us.”
Gareth knew that was more an order than an invitation, but right now he didn’t care.
“Give me a minute. I have an urgent e-mail.”
He Googled news on SSI again and found a message on an investing forum. A user, commenting on the results, wrote, “Whoa, glad I never bought in. That rights issue just wiped shareholders out. Will watch for a dead cat bounce, but aside from that I’m gonna short this sucker.”
Confused, Gareth found SSI’s announcement from the previous night. He read it again, more carefully this time. The company had announced more than great results. It had announced its intention to issue millions of new shares to raise funds, diluting the value of existing shareholders’ investments.
Wiping out Gareth’s investment.