The Baby Gamble (Texas Hold'em)

“In two years you’ve more than doubled your initial investment, Mr. Smith,” the younger man said, leaning forward, almost as if his eagerness might launch him across Blake’s desk. “You’re ripe for growth. Yet you wait for people to come to you with opportunities.”

Blake didn’t like the way that sounded. He chose to do business as he did for two reasons, he reminded himself. First, because he was still, after four years locked up in a hole, rediscovering his financial legs. A lot had happened with the Internet, and with the economy, in the time he’d been gone. And second, with his and his uncle’s old business contacts, there were enough opportunities to keep him busy.

“I have no money to invest, but I have the skills and interest required to seek out potential buys—to do all the tedious research needed to put you in the driver’s seat on any deal you choose to pursue,” Colin continued, apparently undeterred by Blake’s silence.

Which kind of impressed Blake. Or maybe he was just grateful to the kid for interrupting his life. A life that had suited him fine until he’d gone to play Texas Hold’em the other night.

“I can’t afford another salary yet.” He figured Colin already knew that—it wasn’t hard to figure out if he’d followed Blake’s investments and knew the profit margin on them. “I started with a chunk of money I inherited, and I’ve done well enough, but I’ve not been at this long enough to be certain that my good luck will continue.”

“Your decisions rest on more than luck, Mr. Smith. That much is obvious.” Colin’s sincerity was beginning to verge on hero worship.

And Blake, in his current state, wasn’t entirely immune

to that.

“Luck only works a percentage of the time,” Colin added. “What I’m proposing is this. You take me on as part of the company, providing the usual benefits, which you can get at a decent cost because you own part of a growing insurance company. And I’ll work strictly on a commission basis. Any deal I find for us that you close, I get five percent of the profit.”

Intent now, Blake studied the young man. “How do you live, in the meantime?”

“I’ve got about a year’s worth of living expenses saved. If I don’t do something for us in a year’s time, I’m not as good at this as I think I am, and I need to move on.”

“Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Have any preexisting conditions I need to be aware of?”

“No.”

It was just going to cost him the insurance premium on a healthy, fit, low-risk male.

“You’d also have to be willing to handle any day-to-day follow-up and phone calls for me, if I need to be out of the office for any reason.”

Blake hadn’t had a vacation since his return home. And certainly not in the four years before that.

“Does this mean you’re investing in me, sir?”

“You a Cowboys fan?”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“Ever heard of Brady Carrick?”

“The wide receiver who busted his knee, had to retire and ended up losing a fortune in Vegas?”

“That’s the one. He’s recently moved back to the area and is looking for a horse.”

“You know him?”

“He’s a friend.”

“And you want me to find him a horse?”

“Brady’s family owns the Cross Fox Ranch in River Bluff. You may have heard of it.”

“Can’t hardly be from around here and not hear of them, can you? At least not if you watch the news. They train serious money-making, winning-circle horses. I saw a shoot of the Cross Fox once when I was doing a livestock research analysis for class. They’ve got this thirty-six-stall stable that looked more elegant than the place I was living.” The young man’s enthusiasm just didn’t quit. “They ship to racetracks all over the South and Southwest. You want me to find that kind of horse for Brady Carrick?”

“If you think you can.”