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“Finally interested in investing, Luke?” He gives me a calculating look. “Thought you were all about keeping it safe in mutualfunds.”
I shrug, running my fingers absently over the keys. “It may be time to take some risks.”
“Says the guy who drove the same beat-up Honda for ten years before finally buying that Jeep,” Cass teases. “What changed?”
Everything—I want to say. But instead, I just shrug again. “Just curious about what Nate’s seeing.”
“Show him the numbers,” Vince urges. “I’m already in another two hundred grand.”
“Two hundred grand?” I nearly choke. “That’s...”
“Nothing compared to what it’ll be worth if I’m right,” Nate says quietly. He pulls up some charts on his phone and hands it to me. “Look at their patent portfolio. Their partnerships. The way they’re positioning themselves...”
I study the screens he shows me, trying to make sense of the graphs and projections. It’s like looking at sheet music in a foreign language—I can tell there’s a pattern, but I can’t quite read it.
“How much have you made following his advice?” I ask Vince.
He grins. “Enough to buy that beach house I’ve been eyeing. And before you ask—yes, cash. No mortgage.”
“And you think the risk is worth taking?”
Nate hesitates, his analytical brain clearly weighing how much he wants to share. “It’s risky,” he says finally, “but the numbers make sense if you look at the trend.”
Vince crosses his arms. “If Nate says it’s risky. That means it’s practically a sure thing.”
Nate shrugs again, a little uncomfortable with the attention. “There’s always a chance it won’t pan out.”
“Yeah, but when’s the last time you were wrong?” Cass says, laughing. “Seriously, man. You’ve turned my bank account into something that would make the Rolling Stones jealous.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Nate mutters, though his lips twitch into a faint smile.
“Wait, wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “You’re telling me that all of you guys have invested?”
“Hell yeah,” Vince says, leaning against the wall. “Nate’s like a stock market wizard or something. He’s got the touch. I just ride his coattails and watch the money roll in.”
Sam chuckles from the corner, plucking a few notes on his bass. “It’s true. The guy’s got a freaky talent for this stuff. I’ve made enough to put Presley through college already.”
Nate looks faintly embarrassed, but he doesn’t deny it. “It’s not magic,” he says. “I just do my research.”
“And by research, he means spending every waking minute not playing music glued to a screen,” Vince jokes.
“Luke, everyone’s made money except you,” Cass adds. “Because you never take chances.”
“I take chances,” I protest. “I joined the band, didn’t I?”
“That’s different,” Nate says, taking his phone back. “That was following your passion. This is about being smart with the money you’ve already earned.” He pauses, studying me. “But again, it’s risky. I won’t lie about that. This could go either way.”
I think about my carefully managed portfolio, which most people would envy, and the conservative investments my financial advisor recommends. Safe. Stable. Predictable.
And I still don’t have enough capital to help my dad.
“How much would you recommend investing?” I hear myself ask.
Vince whistles low. “Look who’s finally ready to gamble.”
“I didn’t say I was doingit,” I say quickly. “Just asking.”
“Minimum five hundred grand to make it worth the risk,” Nate says matter-of-factly. “But don’t do it unless you’re sure.”