Bubbles Always Burst

By Simon Smith

Clay Conover was a middle school history teacher barely covering half the rent on the beat-up old house he shared with his wise-cracking, counterculture teacher friend. Recently dumped by his girlfriend because he “just wasn’t marriage material,” he was beginning to wonder at what point just hanging out, drinking cheap beer and living on the fringe stopped being cool and started being…pathetic?

Meanwhile, Clay’s old high school lacrosse buddy owned a mortgage brokerage. He and his crew of former preachers, gym managers and car salesmen were making sick money selling subprime home mortgages.

It was 2006. The real estate market was on fire with no end in sight, and Clay, feeling he needed to make a move, decided to join in.

And his entire life changed.

Practically overnight.

More than he could ever have imagined.

But bubbles always burst, eventually…And then you’re left with…?

Experience the end of the real estate bubble through Clay’s meteoric rise in a high-flying mortgage industry permeated by smoke and mirrors, and fueled by an image of the American Dream distorted by excess and greed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Smith
• Release date: Feb 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781516361564

Book preview

BUBBLES

ALWAYS

BURST

By: Simon Smith

Bubbles Always Burst

Copyright © 2015 Simon Smith

All rights reserved

Cover by Tyler McCoy

Formatting by Perfectly Publishable

This is a work of fiction. The characters and happenings set forth in this book are completely made up. Any similarities to real people, either alive or passed on is pure coincidence and absolutely untended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any way or form or by any means whatsoever without the express permission of the author.

Table of Contents

Bubbles Always Burst

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

About the Author

For Arn, the best of the best and my main man, forever

Chapter 1

It was 12:30 on Friday afternoon. Clay cruised into the teachers’ lounge at Severn River Academy in search of strong coffee and an apple he remembered leaving in the community fridge. He nodded and smiled to a few teachers congregated around the large central table who were finishing up their lunches and spotted his buddy Aaron seated away from the table in a corner chair, head down in a book, and wolfing down the last bite of his standard PB and J on white. Aaron looked up. What do you got?

Nothin’ much. Just killed off Caesar.

Clay was an eighth-grade world history teacher.

Aaron smiled. How’d that go for you?

Bloody. You?

Third period, Britney had the gall to ask me if I was wearing the same shirt yesterday.

And?

What do you think?!

Which one?

First and deep center.

Aaron was a sixth-grade English teacher. He owned five work shirts that were all 60 percent polyester blue Oxfords (never needed ironing) and that were all stained in various places. Aaron was an avid baseball fan. Each stain was designated in relation to where it would lie on an imaginary baseball diamond.

Clay grinned. She’s onto you man.

Aaron shrugged. Two more weeks and then third-period Britney will be a hazy memory.

It was the end of May, and the private school year was winding down. Aaron and Clay were roommates, sharing the rent on an old rundown house in the Murry Hill section of downtown Annapolis, Maryland. They had a calendar in the kitchen, and whoever got up first in the morning crossed the preceding day off; the countdown to summer vacation had begun.

Fatty and an Aviator or six? Aaron added.

Hell yes, Clay replied. Got some grading and test preparation, but thinking I should be good by six o’clock.

Aaron slowly stood up, brushing the crumbs off the front of his shirt and pants. Cool, see you then.

It was their Friday night ritual to hit McGarvey’s Saloon, located at the foot of the Annapolis waterfront, for what they considered the fattest, juiciest burgers and coldest, tastiest locally made draft beers in town.

As Clay was leaving, he turned back and said in passing, Tad might come by and join us.

Aaron winced. Why?

He called me outta the blue a few days ago . . . I sorta mentioned that we’d be there tonight . . .

Clay was out of the lounge but still heard Aaron call out after him, The guys a total asswipe, I just don’t see the need to have him ruin a perfectly good Friday night!

Clay and Tad had both gone to Annapolis High School. They had both been stars on the school’s lacrosse team. Aaron was from Pennsylvania and had met Clay five years ago, when they were both first-year teachers at the academy. He hated lacrosse, thought Tad was an arrogant ex-jock meathead, and barely tolerated his infrequent but always unwelcome visits.

The rest of Clay’s school day hummed along nicely. His classes were two weeks into studying the Roman Empire, one of his favorite topics, and his last two classes were especially fun because they were doing a mock Roman Senate. Clad in togas (white sheets Clay and Aaron had siphoned off one of the local hotels), his students debated whether to increase taxes and wage war yet again with Gaul. Clay loved teaching history and loved trying to make it come alive for his students. His office walls were covered with maps and pictures of all things Roman, and Aaron had helped him take a large sheet of plywood and configure it into a 3D representation of the Roman Empire. They had painted the seas and used modeling clay to depict the mountains. They also made Roman legions and ships out of clay and toothpicks that Clay maneuvered around the board to depict the various famous battles. He felt that the best teachers were the ones who still viewed themselves as students, who were passionate about their subject and yearning to learn more. His students loved his energy and enthusiasm, and year in and year out, he was always one of their favorites.

Clay stayed in his office after school ended, grading a recent quiz and preparing his final exam. He enjoyed this quiet alone time in his office after the hustle and noise of the day. His stomach started growling around 5:45 and his mind quickly flashed to the burger and beer waiting for him. He tossed the remaining papers into his weathered, old leather briefcase and headed out into the parking lot, the late afternoon sun warm on his face. Remarkably, his sixteen-year-old red Jeep Cherokee coughed and sputtered only once before starting; he threw the case over his shoulder into the back seat and headed off to meet Aaron.

Chapter 2

McGarvey’s Saloon was a short ride from school, and Aaron was already seated at his customary stool in the corner when Clay plopped down next to him at the bar. Alex, the regular Friday night bartender for the past year and a half, saw Clay come in and without prompting threw down in front of him a bar napkin and a frosty mug of Aviator Ale, the bar’s homegrown swill.

Thanks, Alex. That predictable?

Alex tilted her head slightly forward, opened her eyes wide, and shot Clay a What, you’re kidding, right? look.

Clay laughed and noticed her ever-present textbook opened on the back bar. How’s school going?

Alex furrowed her brow and then tucked a few errant strands of hair behind both ears. Got an anatomy and phys test on Monday, she sighed, and then quickly brightened. But it’s so cool, we’re learning about the various chambers of the heart, the left atrium, left ventricle, systemic flow through the aorta . . . !

Clay shook his head. Wow. That’s cool . . . I think . . . but then, I really have no idea what you just said.

Alex giggled, then added, I don’t either yet. She looked off in the direction of her textbook, distractedly pushing a few bangs out of her eyes, adding, But I have to by Monday. The bar was starting to fill, and as Alex left to serve the new customers, she nodded to Aaron’s almost-finished beer. Another, Aaron?

Aaron choked, his words caught in his throat, and he finally sputtered, Um, sure . . . that . . . sounds good. Alex studied Aaron for a few seconds, turned to Clay with a slight smile and headed off. Aaron wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow.

As soon as Alex was out of range, Clay looked at Aaron and laughed. Well articulated, my sweaty, tongue-tied brother!

Aaron shook his head and forced a weak smile, then said, Seriously. She has that effect on me.

Never woulda known that, dude, Clay threw back laughing.

They both looked over at Alex as she greeted the new customers, appraising her dark brown shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, tight black mini skirt and snug white tuxedo shirt.

She’s got bumps and curves blessed by the gods, man, Aaron mumbled, shaking his head and continuing, And she’s just straight-up beautiful. She’d be spot on the street, change direction, and follow stalker-like desirable wearing a two-man tent!

Aaron looked intently at Clay for a few seconds, deep in thought. Bumps and curves blessed by the gods . . . follow stalker-like . . . that’s some good shit, isn’t it . . . ?

Clay nodded, It’s a keeper, dude.

Aaron reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notebook and proceeded to write down the just-spoken lines. He was writing a book, currently in its fourth permutation, and, with Clay’s help, catalogued notes and lines deemed book-worthy throughout the day.

Shoving his notebook back in his pocket, Aaron took the last, long pull on his beer. And the thing is, I bet she’s totally brilliant.

Getting her Ph.D in nursing, right? Clay offered.

Aaron nodded, Something like that. She said when she’s done, she’ll be a nurse practitioner. There was a thoughtful silence for a few seconds; then Aaron continued, And have you ever noticed that her shirt’s always a little wrinkled and never fully tucked in, and her hairs never perfectly in place, like she threw it in a ponytail as she’s running out the door?

Yeah, and have you ever checked out her fingernails? Clay included, They’re worse than mine! They both reflexively examined Clay’s ragged cuticles and painfully short nails that had been chewed to the quick.

Clay continued, All of which makes her totally compelling.

And desirable! Aaron concluded. He sighed and turned toward Clay. Any word from the ex?

Nada.

Clay’s girlfriend of the past eight months had just recently broken up with him.

Aaron shifted slightly on his stool. I for one am glad to be rid of her, man; she just wasn’t the right one.

Clay shook his head and looked down at his beer, remembering her words when she had dumped him. She said that she wanted more out of life than living paycheck to paycheck, drinking cheap beer, eating two-for-ninety-nine-cent 7-Eleven hotdogs and hanging out in Clay’s dumpy rental. She was ready to move on with her life and she didn’t think that Clay was, well, truly marriage material. Clay had really liked her, and while he knew that they were different in many ways, her words had stung him; ever since the breakup, he had been seriously questioning the direction of his life.

Aaron looked at his friend and could sense the inner catharsis. Look, buddy, when the right one comes along, I’m telling you, you’ll know it. They both involuntarily looked over at Alex, in between serving customers, twirling her hair and reading intently through her textbook.

Aaron laughed, Forget about it dude, she’s not just outta our league, she’s playing an entirely different sport!

Clay chuckled, then added, Look at us though, dude. We’re twenty-seven, six years outta college. I mean, at what point does it stop being cool and start becoming pathetic living on the fringe.

Aaron arched his eyebrow, Fringe?

You know what I mean: We teach, we hang out and have fun, but we have nothing to show for it. Both of our cars are junkers, we don’t own a house, we aren’t making any money to speak of, we’re not getting ahead financially. Is this the way it’s gonna be for the rest of our lives?

Alex appeared with beer refills and then quickly scooted off to attend to her now-packed bar. Friday night happy hour was in full swing.

Aaron took a long swig and then set the mug down forcefully, inadvertently spilling some of the beer. I hope so dude, I really hope so! Listen, you and I both know that it sure as hell isn’t all about money, about the accumulation of stuff! That shouldn’t define who we are and what makes a person successful. We’re teachers, man, we’re educators! It’s the last noble profession. We do it because it’s important. We do it because we love it, and we’re good at it. The problem isn’t us, it’s with our society. We should be revered. We live in a society that professes to hold the education of our children as a paramount concern, and yet we’re treated as second-class citizens, while the yuppy bastard driving a swanky new BMW, living in some bullshit McMansion, is deemed to be a success. We’re the good guys, man, not them. Aaron paused long enough to take a sip and shake his head, continuing, If I can be a teacher and have strong coffee and cold beer and good conversation and live my life deliberately, by my own dictates and not some Madison Avenue marketing firm’s definition of what it means to be a success, then I’ll be a happy man. And you know what? We’ll each find a girl who thinks that’s cool, too.

Clay had been staring down at his beer as Aaron was talking, absentmindedly wiping the frost off the bottom of his mug. When Aaron finished, Clay looked over at his friend and said, Yeah, but it just really sucks getting dumped and being told that you’re basically a loser.

Before Aaron could respond, Alex was back. Burger time, boys? She continued, Two medium-rare cheddar burgers with a side of house fries?

Our lives are an open book, Clay chuckled.

As constant as the northern star, Alex shot back, laughing as she headed to the register.

Aaron smiled, adding, We are defined by the sum of our Friday night excesses. He paused and then looked at Clay, waiting for a response. Clay thought for a few seconds, then said, Borderline, dude. Naw, sorry, didn’t make the cut. Aaron shrugged, put the notebook back in his pocket and took a sip of beer. Aaron spotted Tad in the doorway. Shit. He showed. Clay spun around to watch Tad make his way towards them.

Look at that narcissistic prick, Aaron mumbled, watching Tad slowly maneuver through the crowd. It’s like he expects everyone to stop what they’re doing and acknowledge him.

Most of the women are, Clay offered quietly. They both looked at Tad: thick black hair on the long side, dark intense eyes with a faint smile at the corner, chiseled chin sporting some late-afternoon stubble, tight black tee shirt showing off a sculpted, athletic body hammered together by thousands of hours at the gym. It was impossible to miss the not-so-subtle looks from most of the woman that he passed.

Face it, man, chicks just can’t resist him, Clay concluded.

Yeah, he’s got that ruggedly handsome thing going. But he’s not model perfect, Aaron tossed back, continuing, His Roman nose is a little too big, his eyes are a little too deeply set in his face. And you just gotta hope that once they get to know him, they hate him. Watch the way he moves. Always on stage, always playing it cool.You just know that he practices his entry!

Clay laughed, A study in practiced nonchalance.

Aaron thought for a few seconds and added, Rigorously practiced nonchalance!

Clay nodded and, without looking at Aaron, said, Keeper, as his friend quickly lurched for his notebook.

My man Clayton! Clay and Tad high-fived. Hey, Tad, what’s going on?

Tad turned toward Aaron, put his hand up as if to high-five, then reached down and tousled Aaron’s already unruly curly blond hair instead. Aaron swatted Tad’s hand away and muttered, Bastard! under his breath.

I saw you scribbling on your notebook there, big man; you ever finish that great American novel of yours? Before Aaron could answer, Tad continued, How long you been working on it, dude, like seven years?!

It’s time well spent, Aaron countered. Kind of like the quality intellectual time you spend with your dumbbells!

Tad chuckled, adding, Speaking of dumbbells, you both have been working out, haven’t you? He looked down at Aaron’s pear-shaped body sagging over the stool, and Clay’s noticeable belly straining against his belt. Come on now, boys, you gotta let mere mortals like me have a chance with the ladies once in a while!

Before they could respond, Alex appeared. She looked directly at Tad and very matter-of-factly said, Hi, Tad. Get you anything?

Tad’s eyes locked onto Alex’s. Hey, Alex. Been a while, huh? Tad slowly and with obvious pleasure looked Alex up and down, his eye’s languid scan taking her all in. At last, he smiled and said, Real good to see you, Alex.

Alex didn’t flinch or look away, but both her hands unconsciously grabbed the sides of her skirt and tugged it down.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Tad finally said, Jack and Coke, babe. You look good, Alex.

Alex hurried off without answering. Aaron and Clay both watched the exchange in silence. Aaron swore under his breath, Jesus, not her, too.

Tad looked off, momentarily lost in thought.

Clay looked inquisitively at Tad, who caught his eye, chuckled and said, History, my man, ancient history. Turning his attention back to Aaron, Tad brightened and said, Hey, was that your Honda Civic I saw in the parking lot? They don’t make that color anymore, do they? What would you call it? Burnt toast? What’s it got now? 400,000 miles? Man, if only we could all be so lucky to pilot a beast like that!

Fuck you, Tad! Aaron said.

Tad laughed. Man, you English teachers are so articulate! That school sure is lucky to have you as an educator!

Clay chuckled, shook his head and raked his hand through his wavy brown hair, momentarily exposing a hairline slightly receding at each corner, Boys, come on now, play nicely.

Aaron shot Clay a dirty look.

Tad sneered at Aaron and turned to Clay. Losing a little hair there, my brother?! Tad shuddered and pushed a thick bang out of his eyes, continuing, That’s gotta suck . . . can’t be helping with the ladies!

Fuck you, Tad, Clay threw over his shoulder. Alex had just placed the burgers in front of Aaron and Clay, and they were preparing to dig in, deftly moving ketchup and Dijon mustard bottles between and around the beer mugs on the wooden bar like chess pieces.

Alex looked at Tad. Get you anything to eat, Tad?

Tad smiled at Alex. No, I’m good. Just had a protein shake after my workout.

Clay looked at Tad and then Alex. Stop flexing, Tad, no one cares. Alex snorted and scooted off to attend her other customers.

Aaron turned to Clay. She even snorts pretty!

Tad was returning the leers of two women seated at the far end of the bar, then abruptly looked at Clay. See those two chicks at the end of the bar?

Clay turned slightly and scanned the bar. Yeah, so?

I made eye contact with them, smiled a few times, and now I put the hammer down. I’ll totally ignore them for the next ten or so minutes, and watch, it’ll drive them crazy. Chicks hate it when you flirt with them and then blow them off. But it’s all about control, my brother, having the upper hand.

Aaron gagged, Don’t make me puke up this burger, dude!

Seriously, Tad, you are an ass, you know that, right?! Clay threw in, between mouthfuls.

Tad hooted, then said, Depends. If your definition includes the fact that I’m driving a brand-new Porsche, living in a waterfront condo, and have just opened my own mortgage brokerage, then yeah, I guess I am.

Aaron yawned, Did you say something Tad?

Tad ignored Aaron and moved around to face Clay. Seriously, Clay, that’s why I wanted to see you. I opened my own mortgage brokerage, am hiring brokers, and want you to come work for me.

Aaron snorted. I thought you managed a gym, meat, plus he’s not interested!

Been in the mortgage business for three years, schlumpy, and I’m not talking to you here, am I?! Tad shot back.

Clay held up his hand, I’m taken, dude, I have a job, I . . .

Tad briskly cut Clay off, What are you pulling in dude?

None of your business!

Dude, I guarantee you’ll double whatever it is that you’re making in the first six months working for me. After that, sky’s the limit. You come work for me, your whole life will change.

He doesn’t want his life to change, Aaron interjected.

Tad looked at Clay. You so sure?

Clay pushed his finished plate off to the side and took a long pull on his beer. He looked first at Aaron, and then over to Tad. Like I said, I have a job. But just out of curiosity, what do mortgage brokers do, Tad?

Aaron looked incredulously at Clay. Dude, you can’t . . .

Tad quickly cut him off. We sell residential home mortgages. We find the borrowers, hook them up with one of the big institutional lenders, and hold their hand and walk them through the loan process.

Clay smiled, That easy, huh?

Tad looked intently at Clay, It pretty much is. Look, the real estate market’s on fire, man. It’s like a gold rush out there. Come work with me and grab some for yourself.

Aaron and Clay looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Tad had turned his attention back to the girls at the other end