Sublime

The firm had bent over backward to make Sam happy. They’d interviewed the two closest friends Sam had made at MIT and hired one of them. They even hired Sam’s younger brother, Gabe, who had just started on the Jane Street trading floor. They’d allowed Sam to play a central role in cooking up and pulling off a trade on the 2016 presidential election

The Paper Millionaire, by some Arab-turned-Englishman named Roger Shashoua. He sat

The game began when he was nine, and three years later the only colored people he saw in the dining room carried plates or drinks or a mop.

Her public reputation, like Demeter’s daughter, crawls back up from the underworld.

He calls Big Al, Omar, and Miss Blossom to gather around him, then raises the key high in the air and swears a sacred oath to devote himself to secretly fighting the evil forces of the Iron Chain, in Germany or wherever they raise their ugly heads, and to working for the liberation of all who toil in chains—as the Escapist. The sound of their raise

Like most policemen, Landsman sails double-hulled against tragedy, stabilized against heave and storm. It’s the shallows he has to worry about, the hairline fissures, the little freaks of torque.

“Say hello, you little jive-ass motherfucker,” Fifty-Eight said.

It was a place made out of leftover chunks of disappointment, unemployment and regret.