Secondhand Millions

By Geoffrey Allen

I write to tell you about my novel, "Secondhand Millions," a story that has been custom crafted for the times in which we live.

Louis Bexton has it all -- a beautiful wife, two amazing children, a four-bedroom duplex in Manhattan, a second home in the Hamptons, and millions of dollars tucked away in the bank. But even with all these riches, there's something missing. Louis starts to become bored with his life, starts to yearn for more purpose. He wants to make a difference in the world.

Accordingly, he decides to give a million dollars apiece to five individuals in need. Excited by the idea, he donates four of his most expensive suits to a Goodwill that is located in a poor section of the Bronx. In the pockets of each jacket, he leaves an invitation to a dinner, asking five lucky people to bring only their bank account info with them.

Not only does "Secondhand Millions" explore Louis's story, it also delves into the lives of the four individuals who receive the suits. These four individuals have their own stories, are struggling with their own challenges, heartaches, and survival, and have no idea that their lives are about to be irrevocably altered.

"Secondhand Millions" is a poignant story, full of hope, humanity, and humor. In today's world, as the economy suffers, and as an increasing number of people commence upon a search for something greater, I offer a story centered around a man who undertakes just such a search. Louis's decision resonates in ways both heartening and unpredictable.

Fittingly, not only have I written about a man who undertakes a great change, I happen to be such a man as well. "Secondhand Millions" is my first novel, composed at the end of a career as a financial executive. Far from being an amateurish piece of work, it has been composed with care, grace, elegance, and rhythm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geoffrey Allen
• Release date: Jul 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781938135781

Geoffrey Allen

From the safety and security of his extended Bristol family, the author, Geoffrey Allen, has launched himself into the post-war years; gradually, widening his horizons and seizing every opportunity to indulge his adventurous spirit at home and abroad. An adventurer at heart, with the full realization that even now, he has difficulty in coming to terms with his environment. He embraced the mighty continent of Africa on first acquaintance where he has survived arrest, imprisonment, coups and unrest as well as leading an exciting life. This autobiography’s written in a refreshing style and holds much of interest and is a good read.

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SECONDHAND MILLIONS

By

Geoffrey Allen

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

SECONDHAND MILLIONS

Special Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Copyright © 2012 Geoffrey Allen. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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ISBN#: 978-1-938135-78-1 (eBook)

ISBN #: 978-1-938701-11-5 (paperback)

Version 2012.08.09

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SECONDHAND MILLIONS

CHAPTER ONE

Louis was a successful bond trader working on Wall Street. He was 43 and had been earning more than a seven-figure income since he was 30. But lately, Louis felt that the trading routine was losing its appeal. He wanted to do something different. He wanted to make a difference in the world. To make his mark, to contribute to society and leave a lasting impression on his children.

There was only one problem, however.

Louis had no fucking idea what to do.

His entire life had been sucked into a monotonous routine—rise at 3:30 am, turn on the TV, get on the Internet, call places like London and Asia, make a full array of trades. All to satisfy his clients’ wishes for unhinged monetary growth. This was how Louis lived his life.

When he was 38, he married Donna, a beautiful administrative assistant who was bright and had a fantastic body, but most importantly, had an outstanding sense of humor. She was a good mother to their two children, Felix and Michelle. There was no question that life was good … but something had been lacking.

One night, when Louis arrived home from work, he announced to Donna that he wanted to make a difference in the world. She was at the kitchen table, breastfeeding Michelle, while the nanny played chess with Felix. The TV and stereo were both on simultaneously, filling the air with a pulse of disharmony.

Donna, loyal wife that she was, smiled at her husband upon hearing his words. Honey, I support you 100 percent.

Louis’ shoulders relaxed and he smiled back at his wife.

Donna went on. "I’ve always trusted your judgment immensely … but, honey, look around you. You have made a difference."

The features on Louis’ face darkened as he realized what his wife was saying to him. This isn’t the difference I’m talking about. The 30 million dollars in the bank, the four-bedroom coop in Manhattan, the second home in the Hamptons—it’s all just bullshit.

Stunned by Louis’ tone, Donna looked up at him, speechless.

Realizing he’d upset his wife, Louis lowered his voice. I’m just saying—Look … I’m already taking all this medicine for my blood pressure; not to mention, for my cholesterol and triglycerides. I just don’t want to drop dead before I’m 50.

Donna’s smile reappeared on her face, as if it had always been there. You won’t, sweetheart. You’re just stressed out. It happens to all of us. Just take it one day at a time.

With that, Donna went back to breastfeeding the baby.

Louis sighed to himself and exited the kitchen.

* * *

Louis and Donna owned a coop. It was located on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Their neighborhood supposedly boasted the most affluent zip code in the world. The apartment was a two-level duplex and had about four-thousand square feet of living space. The view from the living room was breathtaking, overlooking all of Central Park. And a corner room had views of both the Hudson and East rivers.

At 8:30 pm, Louis went to his home office, on the second level of the coop, to wrap up some west coast transactions before going to bed. After that, he took a sleeping pill, put on his eye mask, and fell asleep before 9:30 pm. Such was the routine every single night.

At one point, Louis woke up to take a piss. He squinted at the clock and saw that it was 11:30 pm. He was thankful that he had four more hours before he had to get up.

Then, at 2:30 am, Louis got up to take another leak.

He thought to himself: Those goddamn diuretics. They’re controlling my blood pressure, but I’m constantly urinating. Maybe I should wear adult pampers. Perhaps that will be my legacy to my children: That I couldn’t sleep through the night because I was constantly urinating. I could be the poster child for the largest adult diaper manufacturer in North America. My kids would see me on the billboards, on TV and on Youtube; I could even go to Felix’s preschool class and talk to the students about my inability to hold my water at age 43.

Not much later, at 3:30 am, the alarm blared, and Louis sprang out of bed, tripping over one of the kids’ toys in the process. He had not taken off his night mask timely enough. He wobbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, which was not, by any means, an ordinary shower.

First of all, the bathroom surrounding it was about 1,000 square feet. The shower alone was 10 by 12. One wall was completely made of glass. There was a drawer inside the wall that contained all the items that Louis needed to wash and shave. The other wall was unusual, as it was a Giant TV screen, positioned behind a solid glass covering.

Louis turned on CNBC and let the day begin.

He was out of the bathroom in 20 minutes. He went into his gigantic closet to get his clothes. No question about it, Louis had fabulous clothes. His suits, ties, and shirts were all handmade in London. But the one thing that Louis really had a passion for was shoes—he had 400 pairs. Secretly, he had waged a silent competition between Imelda Marcos and himself. Also, his suits were immaculate. Some of them cost around ten grand; not only that, but the tailoring was done by one of the finest craftsmen alive.

Louis put his outfit of the day on his suit caddy. He then went back into the bedroom and stared at Donna as she slept in bed.

Maybe I should play hooky from work. I could stay home and fuck the shit out of Donna all day, he thought to himself.

Donna’s body was incredible. She was a year younger than Louis, and had long beautiful legs, a nice firm ass, and breasts that were always at attention. Her skin was milk white and her complexion flawless, even without makeup. Before leaving the room, Louis thought about how fortunate a man he was.

He went to his home office and turned on his computer, along with the four monitors that were strategically located on each wall. In order to keep up with the different markets, he had monitors for the US, Europe, Asia, and basic use of the Internet; all of them were tied to his main office on Wall Street.

He began making his calls to Asia to do some trades. Louis was fluent in Taiwanese and spoke in the native tongue to the other traders working thousands of miles away. By 4:30 am, he had already done nine trades. He continued this ritual until 5:15 am and then he started putting his suit on. Within 20 minutes, Louis was meticulously dressed and ready to face the day. He looked like the epitome of success. His entire outfit probably cost him around $25,000. Not to mention, his Girard-Perregaux watch was worth about $200,000.

Louis was now ready to conquer the streets and make his day’s fortune. He stepped into the kitchen and brewed some hazelnut coffee. He poured himself a cup and started to sip. Louis always ate breakfast at the office. He had a personal chef that cooked him breakfast and lunch when he was in the building. When Louis met with clients, he always took them out to a restaurant near the office. However, as Louis was watching his weight, he actually preferred to have the chef prepare all of his meals for him.

At 5:55 am, Louis left the coop and got into the elevator, which led him to the lobby. He said good morning to the doorman, Alfie, and moved swiftly out the door to his limo.

Inside the limo sat his faithful driver, William. A friend and a confidant, William had been Louis’ driver for the past 15 years. He knew everything under the sun about him. He even served as Louis’ personal shrink, during challenging times.

Good morning, William.

Good morning, Mr. Bexton.

The drive to Wall Street from uptown was about half an hour.

A copy of the Wall Street Journal and a bottle of water were waiting for Louis inside the limo. William had also made sure that the small TV was tuned in to CNBC.

On most drives, there was little conversation between the two men—unless Louis initiated it. This would be one such drive.

William, can I ask you something?

Of course, Mr. Bexton.

Well … lately I’ve been feeling that I’d like to make a difference in the world. But I haven’t a clue as to what I should do, Louis muttered, looking down into his lap.

"You want to make a difference, Mr. Bexton? Then why don’t you give me 10 million dollars as a gift? We would be on the cover of the New York Post. Trader Makes a Difference, Gives his Driver 10 Million," William said, breaking out into a big smile.

Louis couldn’t help but smile back at his friend. Come on, I’m being serious here.

Okay … what about charitable organizations? I’m sure there are a lot of charities out there that could use your talents and business savvy. It’s worth asking around.

Louis nodded at his friend. Yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it.

With that, Louis went about initiating a couple of trades on his wireless laptop. In time, they pulled up to his office.

Would you come pick me up at six? Louis asked.

Of course, Mr. Bexton. I’ll be here, William replied.

Louis hopped out of the limo and shut the door behind him. The car sped away through a quiet downtown district.

Louis entered the building, swiped his fob for security purposes, and stepped into the elevator. Within a minute, he was on the 36th floor. He entered the main entrance using his fob. No one was at the reception desk, as the office was not officially open until 8:30 am. Above the desk was a sign with the firm name, Golden, Mellow, and Wasberger; it was barely visible as there were only a few lights on in the office.

Louis had never had any interest in being a partner, so it didn’t bother him that his name was not on the firm’s sign. Louis, after all, was the rainmaker. He made more than $250,000,000 for the firm last year alone. His keep was 4%, which earned him a cool $10,000,000, not to mention a handsome bonus. Louis was fine with making deals and doing trades, but he had no interest in the administrative aspects of the job. He disliked attending meetings and did not want to serve at any supervisory capacity. Management was simply not for