The laughter at Garrett's table faded slowly like ripples dying on still water. Felicia hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. She just stood there holding the champagne bottle, her face unreadable. Garrett loved that, the silence, the submission. It confirmed everything he believed about the natural order of the world.
No. He leaned back, grinning. Nothing. Cat got your tongue? He spread his arms wide, playing to his audience.
Come on, I'll make it easy. Simple question. Should I buy stocks or bonds right now? Surely even you can answer that. Felicia looked at him.
Really? Looked at him for the first time in 2 years. And then she spoke. Neither. Garrett blinked.
Excuse me? You asked for my advice. Her voice was calm, steady. You should sell. Sell?
Garrett snorted. Sell what? Nexus Technologies. All of it before Tuesday. The table went quiet.
Garrett had just told millions of CNBC viewers to buy Nexus. He'd staked his reputation on it. And now a waitress, this waitress, was telling him to sell. For a moment, he was too stunned to respond. Then his face hardened.
"You have no idea what you're talking about." "Next's Q3 report shows revenue recognition irregularities," Felicia said, her tone shifting into something sharper, more precise. "Accounts receivable jumped 340% while revenue only grew 12%. That's textbook channel stuffing." And the SEC filing from last month has a footnote about an ongoing internal review. That's code for investigation. Dead silence.
The fund managers at the table exchanged glances. Caroline Hayes set down her fork. This wasn't waitress language. This was Wall Street language. Garrett's face reened.
You're reading headlines and pretending to understand them. I'm reading 10K filings. Felicia replied, "There's a difference. There's a Something shifted in the air. The other diners had stopped their conversations.
Staff members peered out from the kitchen. Everyone was watching now." Garrett stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the marble floor. "All right." His voice was tight, controlled. "You think you're so smart? Let's make this interesting." He pointed at the CNBC screen on the wall.
Nexus's stock price glowed green. $142.50. Nexus will close above 150 by Friday. If I'm right, you stand on that chair. He jabbed a finger at the seat behind her and apologized to everyone here for wasting our time publicly. His friends chuckled nervously.