Page 10 of A Vegas Crush Collection #2

bitcoin and blockchain?

Talia

Holy shit! This poor guy is getting screwed.

The more I look through these investment reports, the more I realize what a joke his financial “management” has been.

Here’s a professional athlete at the top of his career with his biggest contract to date in motion, and these shysters a continent away are nickel and dimeing him for every fee possible, making up reasons to siphon money from his accounts, and investing in the riskiest of risky bets.

There is no friggin’ way he could ever make his money grow over time in this situation.

And if I had to guess, there’s a river of green flowing right out of his accounts and into theirs.

Because they think he’s too stupid to catch any of it.

Damn, this pisses me off. Boris seems like a really good guy, who unfortunately has been royally taken advantage of, and probably for a very long time.

“Fuuuck.” I push my glasses up on top of my head so I can rub my eyes. I guess I’m hoping if I rub hard enough, it will change what’s on the page. No such luck, though.

“What is going on?” Boris looks concerned. Which is good. He should be concerned. I keep scanning as I talk.

“For one, these investments are all wrong. There’s too much invested in big-risk endeavors like Bitcoin and Blockchain.

And…holy crap, they put it in your IRA pool.

Yikes. I mean, I know the Winklevii were all out strutting about making a shit-ton on cryptocurrency, but it’s too high risk for a portfolio like yours.

There could be money to make there, but the mining is intense and I assure you, your guys are not doing the work to make sure the investments are balanced with better bets, just to keep things even. ”

“I was told the higher the risk, the more I would make,” Boris says.

“Yes, sure. I mean, higher-risk investments, when managed and balanced appropriately, can certainly net a higher rate of return. But they’re risky for a reason, and they can kill your portfolio if no one is paying close enough attention.

You do high risk, take the win, and get out.

Reinvest in something middle-range for a while.

And if you want to invest in higher risk anything, there are safer bets than cryptocurrency right now.

There are some IPOs out there that are looking really strong.

I can think of ten alternatives that would instantly give me less heartburn and would assuredly net you better returns than this bullshit. ”

Boris’s mouth is hanging open. I think I broke him.

“You getting all this, big guy?” He nods and I nod back.

“Good. Look, I need more time to look at this portfolio in depth and do a little research. Beyond Bitcoin, there are some highly irregular investments and I want to understand better why these choices were made. Is there someone I can talk to from your investment team?”

“Maybe Vlad?”

“Vlad is who?”

“He helps hockey players manage business that spans the US and Russia. He will know who you should talk to.”

“So you don’t have a direct line to these guys?

” I’m sure the look of incredulity on my face isn’t helping to ease his mind, so I try to soften my approach.

I try the old standby of reminding myself that everything regarding money is fixable.

In life, it’s the stuff that money can’t buy you really need to worry about.

He shakes his head. “They call me sometimes, but usually I get everything on paper in the mail.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s just shady as hell,” I tell him just as the waitress brings our plates.

All this money talk has worked up an appetite.

Seriously, this type of problem-solving is my jam, and I am totally turned on about the prospect of switching things around for Boris.

I shove my giant garbage burger in my face, taking a huge bite and closing my eyes at the glorious flavors of condiments and vegetables with charred beef and a carb-tastic bun.

I think I let out a moan that’s borderline sexual.

When I open my eyes, Boris looks utterly enthralled. His own burger is perched in his fingertips, not a bite taken as he watches my display of gluttony. “You eat like a man,” he blurts.

I crack up at this, but then look down and realize I’ve got a big glob of mustard right on my boob.

“Goddamn it! Fucking white shirts.”

And Boris, the sweet angel, actually cringes.

“I’m sorry. I work with a lot of men who cuss a lot. It’s an occupational hazard and certainly not very professional.”

“It’s okay,” he says.

“You don’t cuss?”

“Oh, I do, but usually just in my head. And not always in English.”

This makes me laugh. The Ice Dragon is a contradiction. He’s big and burly and plays a semi-violent sport, yet he doesn’t drink, apparently, and he doesn’t swear out loud. I wonder what he does to let off steam.

We finish our meal, talking about the tiny bits of Las Vegas we’ve experienced so far. When the bill comes, Boris offers to pay but I swipe the bill and promise it’s an allowable business expense for me to take a potential client out for dinner.

“But I am making you meet after hours,” he argues.

I’m not having it, though, and when I get my business credit card out and hand it to the waitress, he pouts a little, his effort at chivalry thwarted.

Besides, what I don’t tell him is that pathetic as it is, I work late every night and this was a welcome change having his excellent company for dinner tonight.

Yep.

PATHETIC.

And yes, the shouty caps are warranted.