Ray tried to process Sarah's words, his mind reeling. Who are the Thompsons? Together with Brenda? It sounded like a bad sitcom, not his life.
The idea of going on a "legendary" double date with waitresses from a nearby diner would have made the Ray Carter he knew, the one who just burst into flames, chuckle. Yet, here he was, apparently the star of it. "Look, Sarah," Ray started, rubbing his temples. "I... That I don't really remember. Long night, you know?"
He attempted to act casual, but his own internal alarm bells were ringing. What other surprises lay ahead if his past self had a social life he couldn't recall? Sarah just gave him a knowing look, a smirk playing on her lips. "Sure, a 'long night.' Whatever you say, Ray." She winked and went back to scrubbing a hubcap, clearly not buying his act.
Ray sighed, grabbing a squeegee. There would be more to this than just making money. His "reincarnation" wasn't a clean slate; it was a re-entry into a life already in progress, a life with its own history, its own reputation, and apparently, its own romantic entanglements.
He had to play along, at least for now, until he figured out what was what. The rest of the morning at the car wash was a blur of knowing glances and hushed whispers. Ray tried to focus on his work, scrubbing cars, but his mind kept drifting back to his apartment, to the AI trading bot he had set up.
That was his real focus, his ticket back to the top. This mundane, blue-collar life, and whatever social drama came with it, was just a temporary inconvenience. After his shift, Ray practically sprinted out of the car wash, ignoring the lingering stares.
He jumped on his bicycle, pedaling furiously back to his apartment. He needed to be alone, to think, to immerse himself in the world he understood—the world of charts, algorithms, and cold, hard cash. As he unlocked his apartment door, the old, familiar scent of stale pizza and cheap detergent greeted him.
He kicked off his shoes, barely noticing the worn carpet. All he cared about was the laptop on the table, humming faintly. He sank into his shaky chair and started the trading software. The simple interface, devoid of the multi-monitor setups he was used to, still felt liberating.
He checked the market, saw the potential, and then, with a deep breath, activated the AI trading bot. He had programmed it with strategies he had developed over many years and millions of dollars, insights he had accumulated up until his untimely death.
This was more than just gambling; it was using knowledge from the future. He watched the numbers flicker, a small smile finally touching his lips. It was this. This was his path. The car wash, the Thompson twins, and his awkward social standing in his previous life all felt distant and insignificant.
He was the Forex God again, just on a much smaller scale, and with a cosmic head start. As the first few trades executed, bringing in small but consistent gains, Ray felt a surge of exhilaration. He was back in control. For the first time since waking up in this old apartment, he felt truly at home.