Free On the Floor by Aifric Campbell

with an admission of undying love and a plea for forgiveness that would end with us collapsing in each other’s arms. But Stephen is, as Zanna would say, so over me. And the fact that he could be bothered to call round to collect a bunch of possessions that he could easily replace was simply further evidence of the fact that he had already left me a long time ago.
    Zanna was right. Zanna is always right about the ring of steel that encircles the heart.
    â€˜Take this,’ Julie holds out a plastic cup. She nods approvingly, watching while I drink. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Geri, you’ve lost a lot of weight recently’ – and I have to admit that it may be some time since I have eaten. She opens her mouth as if to say more but decides to hold her fire. Instead she waits, twisting her engagement ring, the one we all saw before Tim’s Christmas proposal when Ruben showed up from Hatton Garden, his coat pockets stuffed with shedloads of gear that he carts across town.
He does quality gear, none of your rubbish
, said Rob as we crouched down by my desk.
Like you could tell diamonds from paste without looking at the price tag
, I snorted.
I’m thinking emeralds to go with her eyes
, said Tim, carefully tipping the velvet pouch on to my notebook, holding the ring up to the overhead light.
Pay attention, Geri
, said Rob,
’cos this is the closest you’ll ever get to one of those unless you buy it yourself
, his face so close I could see his scrubbed pores.
I mean, you’re not really the marrying kind, are you, G? You’re not interested in all that?
Am I right?
and I laughed because laughter heals a sting, a sore that goes unnoticed until it’s scratched.
    â€˜How do you feel now?’ Julie asks, all worried frown. I stand up unaided and turn towards the floor and the open door where life is playing out before us. Over on the Jap desk Joe Palmer is yelling at Tokyo on the hoot ’n’ holler. Skippy Dolan stands tall on the Block Desk with his middle finger spiked in front of him. There’s lots of air punching going down in France and over by the window I can see Rob in what looks like a face-off with Al.
    â€˜Like a million dollars,’ I say and spread my arms wide. Julie smiles in broad relief, for I have been returned to my familiar self and this is the Geri we all know and love.

3
on the tape
07:11
    â€™ SO HOW ’BOUT YOU GO fucking sell ’em, Al?’ Rob says. Al stands frowning on the other side of the desk, the undialled phone falters in his hand.
    â€˜Fucking waste management,’ Rob batters at his keyboard.
    â€˜How was I supposed to know you went and bought them for your hedge book?’
    â€˜Put your money in Claxin Falls,’ Rob mimics Al’s drawl. ‘The industry of the future.’
    â€˜He’s been saying that for months, Rob,’ I tip out a cigarette. ‘And anyway, aren’t you supposed to be the trader who never listens to a single word spoken by a salesperson?’
    â€˜I didn’t even have an order, for Chrissake,’ says Al.
    â€˜Yeah, well, why don’t you have that etched on your tombstone, mate? Here lies Al, a salesman without an order.’
    â€˜Fuck you,’ Al slams down the receiver and walks away.
    â€˜So you’ve still got that Claxin?’ I ask.
    Rob scowls at his screen. For months now he has been making hay on his proprietary positions, ever since the Grope told him he could take a punt on whatever he fancied as well as handling client orders.And now Rob is furious because his precious hedge book is groaning under the weight of five million Claxin Falls convertible bonds that have been treading water since he bought them.
    â€˜Still got the fuckers. Going nowhere,’ which was exactly what Felix said when I showed him the bonds before Christmas but Rob made the mistake of thinking he saw value where Felix didn’t and went ahead and took them