Chapter Twenty-Nine
Barely a few minutes pass before my feet take me straight to Art’s office.
I shouldn’t snoop. I really shouldn’t.
Oh, who am I kidding? I step into the office and look around.
A desk, a chair, and two wall-mounted monitors are pretty much it.
Does investing require such spartan surroundings?
As if possessed, I wake up the desktop computer.
It asks for a password.
Hmm. Blue would hack this in an eyeblink.
I type in “ballet.”
Nope.
I try “Baryshnikov.”
Jackpot. I’m in.
To my disappointment, the only app on the desktop is for trading. Nor is there anything interesting in his browser history, just sss, Forbes, and other boring sites like that.
No porn?
I lock the computer and leave to grab my own laptop.
Since my browser history is blush-inducing, I should m
