The Student

By Francis Alberto

The Student is a Thriller and Must Read for anyone who loves a book that you can’t put down that leaves you on the edge of your seat. Dino, the Student, is an MBA at the University of Michigan who gets caught up in rough and tumble world of Detroit politics and the mafia. He enters this new world while a budding new love interest (Maria) enters his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Francis Alberto
• Release date: Jun 16, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452382036

Book preview

The Student

by

Francis Alberto

Smashwords Edition

* * * * *

The Student

Copyright © 2010 by Francis Alberto

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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CHAPTER 1

Coffee is a gift from God … At least that’s what Dino thought as he sat in the Espresso Royal and watched the steam rise from his cup. The steam spiraled toward the ceiling weaving its way through the early morning sunlight. Dino watched the steam approach the smoke-stained ceiling tiles and thought about his life. He began to comprehend everything that was going to happen to him during the next two years. He would have his MBA from the University of Michigan, and be ready to enter corporate America as a well-educated, well-versed, and well-bullshited young man. He would have more worthless facts and figures in his head than a Noble Laureate. After all, this was the effect of an MBA at any top school, not to mention he thought it would really help him on the cocktail circuit.

As any MBA will tell you, it’s not the grades that get you the general marketing manager job at any of the big three. It is your ability to wow them with bullshit and guns. The bullshit is how you manipulate all of the worthless facts and figures they beat into your head in business school to make them sound interesting and hold a person’s attention; for example:

You know the Price Earnings ratio is a better indicator of our company’s success. (Whenever you use these chickenshit financial terms, people seemed to listen more intently.) Or The financial analysts see our organization as a growth company, that’s why the market price has increased and our P/E ratio has gone up, while our earnings have remained the same.

Also, don’t forget about the guns … We are going to be the greatest producers of steel in the world...and I’ll tell you why … we have the people to provide the greatest customer service this fucking industry has ever seen! On the guns side, it was always important to use a little hard language to emphasize your point.

Yeah, Dino believed he had the world by the tail. An MBA from one of the best schools in the country and his God-given ability for bullshit and guns. This along with an iron stomach that could hold a fifth of Johnny Walker Black at one sitting. Dino’s career was off to a flying start!

It’s well known throughout the U.S. that The Michigan MBA is a degree that turned heads and made companies salivate. That’s why Dino was there, along with the alternative; working for General Foods USA, Foodservice Division, making $30,000 a year, driving around in his company Ford Aerostar (nicked-named the turtle for its forest green color and top speed). Shit, $30,000 didn’t pay his bar tab. Dino believed it was time to trade up. He thought he would learn a lot and see a winning football program for two years.

In the fall in Michigan you can be assured of two things: kids go back to school and the weather gets colder than shit! Dino was one of those kids again, and that fall was cold. It probably was the reason Dino spent so much time in the coffee shop. Dino leaned forward, blew the steam from the top of his cup, and sipped his coffee. The people outside were moving fast to get where they were going. No one, it seemed, wanted to be outside in the cold fall air. Dino looked at his coffee cup and thought to himself, damn it, why didn’t I go to North Carolina!

The Klein Matterhorn is the highest point in western Europe. At the base of the mountain lies the little town of Zermatt, Switzerland, a ski village that has become a home to international travelers. Zermatt lies on the border of Switzerland and Italy. At times when you’re skiing the Klein Matterhorn, you leave Switzerland and enter Italy without knowing it. Zermatt provides those who love to ski the opportunity to ski year-round. Though the visitors to Zermatt are among the wealthiest people in the world, Zermatt has not lost its ageless charm. To this day, no cars are allowed in Zermatt. The cobblestone streets, that are centuries old, provide Zermatt’s visitors with one of two options for transportation: a horse-driven carriage or you simply walk.

The visitors to Zermatt indulge themselves with gourmet meals and vintage bottles of wine. Those who visit Zermatt soon find out why so many international playboy types return...the women. Zermatt is a haven of beautiful women of all ages. Some looking to find that millionaire to marry, and others just looking for someone to spoil them for a week or two.

In the fall in Zermatt, you take the gondola to the top of the Klein Matterhorn. It is there that you will find the world’s most fantastic glacier skiing. You wake up early and ski until about noon. Noon is when the glacier begins to melt. It is at this time that you simply ski until you run out of snow. You literally ski right into the dirt, where the good citizens of Zermatt have conveniently placed a gondola.

Most of the local residents of Zermatt don’t ski unless it is winter. They believe the glacier skiing is reserved for tourists and not up to their expected skiing quality. The only exception is when local women wish to tan themselves. They actually ski in their bikinis. If you have never seen an Italian beauty skiing in her bikini...you haven’t lived!

A man rushed through the lobby of the Swisserholf hotel in Zermatt; he was in a hurry. He had to make it to the local bank and get out of town, and he was late. After the quick stop at the bank for a deposit, he would head for a train that would take him to Geneva, There he would catch a flight back to the United States. Like banking in Switzerland, everything is done with a number. The man handed his room key to the front desk attendant.

The attendant said, in a thick Swiss accent, Room 412 checking out?

The man smiled and responded yes. Then he signed a card – that was all that was necessary. It would be billed to his credit card number. No names were ever used in Switzerland. The Swiss pride themselves on complete privacy at all times.

When the man arrived at the Swiss Air counter at Geneva’s airport, he handed his ticket to the agent. The agent pulled up his registration on the computer screen, pulled his ticket stub off, handed him a boarding pass, and said, You are checked all the way through to Detroit, Congressman.

Congressman Mills Woody boarded the plane and sat in his usual first-class seat. He was on the way back to his Detroit office, home on a visit. After two weeks in Zermatt he was ready to see his constituents. After a couple of days in Michigan, he would be ready to get the hell out of there and go back to Washington D.C. Mills, or Woody to his close friends, was the typical congressmen. In the view of the people who voted for him, he was one in a million. A true fighter for social programs and a hard liner democrat.

The people in Michigan will always come first with me! was always Woody’s battle cry. Little did these people know, the Congressmen in his fifth term was a snake. The Chairman of the Ways and Means committee the last five years gave Woody the opportunity to line his pockets. At last count, Woody had $4.5 million in Swiss bank account number 39478. Several times a year the Congressmen would go to Zermatt, Switzerland to ski. It was really to visit his money and make a deposit. Of which, Woody had just made a sizable one. The people had no idea. He had them believing that he actually lived off his salary. He owned those people; Woody was a true master of rhetoric. In one instant he could kiss a baby, and the next he could call the baby’s mother a son of a bitch … behind her back, of course.

As Woody put back his third Rob Roy of the flight, he laughed at the thought of all those stupid assholes that would show up for his rally in two days. The framers of the constitution had to be proud of him he thought. Where else but in America could a little guy from Saginaw, Michigan have four and a half million dollars in a Swiss bank account?

More important than Woody’s meeting with constituents was Woody’s meeting with Johnny Mancuso. Johnny was to Detroit, what Al Capone was to Chicago. He ran or had his hand in everything that was illegal. His front was a fish market in Detroit’s Eastern market: Mancuso Fresh Fish. Buy my fish or you’re going to sleep with them. Anyway, the two of them together were quite a team. Woody was the front man the people loved and Johnny, a.k.a. The Cooz, was the guy who pulled the trigger and nobody but the two of them knew. Woody was deathly afraid of the Cooz, but who in Detroit wasn’t? The Cooz could be a very scary guy.

Woody was sitting in his office, suffering from extreme jet lag, sipping a drink and wondering why the Cooz wanted to see him? Woody figured it was another opportunity to make some extra cash, the tax free kind of cash that the government never saw. Woody heard the outer door to his office open, and since everyone had gone for the evening, he figured it had to be the Cooz. The Cooz entered Woody’s office with Tony Dee.

Woody, how are all my friends in D.C.?

Fucking great, Johnny. Woody never referred to Johnny as the Cooz. He realized the title was reserved only for special associates. What’s up?

What do you mean, ‘what’s up’? I can’t come to visit an old friend?

Fuck, Johnny, the only kind of visits you make are the kind I don’t want to know about. What the hell do you want? You haven’t visited my office in ten years! Don’t you think I should be a little bit curious?

What are you drinking Woody?

A Rob Roy.

Give me a scotch on the rocks.

Oh, I didn’t realize this was a social occasion.

It’s not! Quit being a smart ass! Give me the drink and listen. The Cooz was serious. Woody walked over to the bar cart in his office, filled a glass with ice, and covered the ice with Johnny Walker. Woody walked over to the Cooz, handed him the drink and opened his ears.

When Sherman Timmons opened the Congressman’s D.C. office Friday morning he was in his usual state. He needed two Advils and a cup of coffee. The last three days had been great. As Congressmen Mills Woody’s chief of staff, Sherman led a busy life. Woody left Sherman, or Sherm as all the bartenders in D.C. knew him, back in D.C. to finish up all the work that Woody blew off until the last minute. But to Sherm it was a paid vacation. He had the run of the office, all he had to do was tie up Woody’s loose ends and go out for cocktails!

It was a lifestyle Sherm had been accustomed to since his days at SMU (Southern Methodist University). Today, however, Woody was coming back to D.C. and would be in the office. This would be another long day on the Hill with a hangover for Sherm. But by now, it was almost second nature.

When Congressman Mills Woody showed up at his office in D.C., he was full of piss and vinegar. As Woody came through the door, he was already looking at Sherm.

SHERM! goddamn it, where the hell are the minutes from the last Ways and Means committee meeting?

Sherm responded, They’re being typed by Maria.

MARIA! Woody screamed as he sat down at his desk. I need those minutes!

Sherm whispered under his breath, to Woody’s secretary, The boss is in a bad mood, Maria. Better watch out.

Yeah, I know, Sherm.

Woody, sick of waiting, screamed again for Maria, Where the hell are those minutes, Maria?

This time Sherm decided to help Maria out. I got ‘em, boss, Sherm responded.

Bring them in here, Sherm. Who was against that defense bill?

You mean besides us, Congressmen?

Sherm, I don’t have the time or patience for your fucking sarcastic remarks. Answer the goddamn questions I ask you or look for another fucking job! Do, you, un-der-stand!?!

Yeah...um...I’m sorry.

The beginning of the MBA year at Michigan was full of all sorts of fun things, for instance: Marketing 502, Corporate Strategy 502, Accounting 502, Business Economics 502 and Statistics 502. It was un-fucking-believable! Dino didn’t have time to do a goddamn thing except eat, sleep, study, go to class, and workout. It made undergrad look like a joke. Which now, Dino realized, it was. But this is what he asked for, and now he got it. In a sick sort of way he enjoyed it. He was so busy he almost forgot how lonely he was, plus, going to class was intellectually stimulating. Dino really enjoyed it. They covered everything from undergrad in about the first week then it was off to the races: case studies, chapters, problem sets, homework, and on and on and on.

Business school was a habit-forming experience. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. It was the same thing over and over. A typical day for Dino started at 5:45 A.M. He showered, slammed coffees until 6:30 A.M., then went for his morning workout. After returning home from his workout, he would grab his book bag and head to school. After enjoying a couple of classes, Dino would go home, check his messages, and read and read and read. They really piled on the work. Then it was usually back to school for an afternoon class. After class had ended, Dino would head home and study until around 8:00 P.M., realizing he hadn’t eaten all day, order some food in, study until it arrived, eat, watch some TV, and go to bed. Then he would repeat this entire cycle the next day. That was his Monday through Thursday schedule. It probably explained why he would be ready to pull his hair out by time the weekend came around.

Business school at Michigan revolves around your mailbox. It’s where you receive all your information. Everyone in the business school has a file folder, referred to as their mailbox. Everyday, checking your mailbox is an event: cleaning all the bullshit junk mail items out, and searching for the really important documents. Many a business student at Michigan has taken that long walk to their mailbox knowing full well that their Finance 502 exam was corrected and waiting for them. The mailbox was a center point of emotion and information. It could be the best friend you had or your worst enemy!

During the first term of Dino’s MBA, a professor had befriended him; his name was Jack Chickfield or Chicky baby as Dino came to call him. Chicky was a professor of corporate strategy, a great guy, and the self-proclaimed world’s champion martini drinker. Chicky had been at Michigan for twenty-five years and he knew all the ins and outs of the MBA program. He sort of took Dino under his wing since Dino was the only one in class who would argue with him.

One day in class, Chicky made a reference to Mike Milken, the famous junk bond originator, or as Mr. Milken refereed to it, high yield debt. Dino believed that Milken was one of the great financial minds of our time. I mean the guy developed a whole new way for anyone in America to raise capital. Before Milken only the largest corporations in the world could get into the capital markets. Then Giuliani, the federal prosecutor, used the RICO Act to try to put him in prison. RICO was developed by Congress to indict gangsters! The courts have been abusing this for years. Anyway, Chicky baby was on the anti-Milken bandwagon, like most professors. It really pissed Dino off, so he spoke up for Mike, and Chicky and Dino really got into one of their famous brawls. When class ended that Thursday, Chicky asked Dino to stay after class. The rest of Dino’s MBA section shit their pants … O.K., so did Dino. Dino thought maybe Chicky was going to ask him to switch sections. But just the opposite happened. They went out to Gratzi for pasta and drinks - a lot of drinks! Gratzi was a great place for Italian on Main Street in Ann Arbor. Then Chicky told Dino that he loved being challenged, and that he wished the rest of his classes would quit worrying about crossing him.

As he put it to Dino, I have been around a long time and it’s going to take a lot for a student to piss me off. He told Dino that sometimes in class he actually gives the wrong facts and figures just to see if anyone will say, Hey, dumbass, what the hell are you talking about! Chicky baby was probably the best friend Dino had while he was at Michigan.

Sherm was working his ass off for the Congressman; he felt like he’d been hit by a train. The odd thing was that none of it had to do with the re-election campaign. But after the last run-in with the Congressman, there was no way Sherm was going to question anything the Congressmen did. Sherm was on foxhole duty: keep your head low and watch out for the Congressman throwing bombs. It was a work style to which Sherm had become accustomed.

When Sherm came back from lunch, which consisted of a street vendor hot dog eaten on the run, Maria seemed crushed.

Maria, what’s wrong?

Nothing, Sherm.

Come on, Maria. I’ve seen that look before. Was the Congressmen here?"

He just left.

Did he explode in your direction?

Yeah … all over me.

What happened?

Well, he got a call from the outside 800 number.

Yeah …

Then he came out here in a tirade. He told me my work was subpar and I was lucky to have my job!

Sherm interrupted, Maria, you know you can’t take him seriously. This defense bill has got him out of his mind.

Yeah, I know, but I work too hard around here to be treated like this. The other secretaries around here all tell me how great all their weekends are. On my weekends I’m here, working! I can’t believe he said that to me. When I started working here two years ago, this was a fun place. Now it’s just terrible. I can’t stand it.

Maria, take it easy. In a year or two you’ll have your degree from George Washington and you can forget all about Mills Woody.

Yeah, Sherm, I know.

Do you know who called the Congressman?

No, but it really got to him. He jumped up and almost ran out of here. Something seems funny around here, Sherm.

You think so, too? Sherm responded.

Yeah, Maria continued. I’ve never seen the Congressman act this way.

Well, Maria, let’s not worry about him, let’s worry about getting this defense bill through and getting this idiot re-elected so we’ll still have our jobs!

O.K., Sherm, but something seems wrong.

CHAPTER 2

When Woody came to the door of room 232 of the Watergate Hotel he looked both ways. The coast was clear and he knocked. The door was opened by a larger-than-life character Woody knew as Tony DiMenco, or as everybody called him, Tony Dee.

Woody greeted him, Tony Dee, how you doing?

Fine, sir. Tony Dee was the personal caretaker of the Cooz. If the Cooz was there, Tony Dee was somewhere close by. In the mid-80s someone tried to knock off the Cooz. It was in the middle of the day and the Cooz was out in front of the fish market. This guy walks up to the Cooz, pulls a knife, and before you can say King Salmon, Tony Dee appeared out of nowhere. As the legend goes, it was as if Tony Dee descended from the heavens like a guardian angel, grabbed the guy, and was off to the back of the fish market. In fact, it happened so quickly the Cooz didn’t even realize it. As for the would-be assassin, after encouraging him to reveal who sent him, Tony Dee made sure he was never heard from again. Some say he’s part of the Lodge Freeway, others say he went for a swim to Canada and never made it. Whatever the case, Tony Dee was no one to underestimate! Woody didn’t have to worry about Tony Dee. Tony Dee liked Woody, mostly because he knew the Cooz owned him.

The Cooz started. Sit down, Woody.

Cooz, this is dangerous, Woody replied.

Don’t worry, Woody. I have security under control.

You mean ...

The Cooz interrupted Woody before he could finish his thought, Yeah, let’s just say Tony Dee isn’t the only one in the house.

Johnny, I told you I have this defense bill under control.

That’s not what I hear back in Detroit.

Woody looked at the Cooz with curiosity and thought to himself, how many moles does this guy have? Finally he said, What are you hearing, Johnny, and who are you hearing it from?

Woody, the Cooz continued, we’ve known each other a lot of years. Do you think you’re the only one on the Hill who benefits from my friendship? Like I said, we’ve known each other a lot of years, and I like you, Woody. You know I’ve always taken care of you. But don’t embarrass yourself by asking such questions. If I say it is so, consider it as if it came directly from God’s lips. The Cooz stared into Woody’s eyes to emphasize his point.

Finally, the Cooz spoke. Let’s get down to business. The defense bill. Talk to our Jewish friend from New Jersey. He’ll help you out. You know who I am talking about?

Woody responded,