The Day the Money Stopped

By Nick Arbuiso

This novel is fictional, but it is not impossible. As we know, all kinds of schemes happen in all walks of life.
I am sure that there is no law that says that it cannot happen in high places and in the lives of wealthy and powerful people. Of course, it usually doesnt happen in high places, and if it does, money and power keep it out of sight.
If we use our imagination and erase some of the money and power, we could be looking at a true story. Read it and decide. You are the judge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456765460

Nick Arbuiso

Nick Arbuiso was born to parents who were divorced, and neither wanted custody of him. He was handed from relative to relative for most of his youth. Finally, he landed with his mother. He struggled and got a minimal education. He did not let his background hold him back. He finally reached his goal, which was being a salesman. He then opened his own business, called Maxxus Sales Consultants, and wrote his first book, The Other 5%.

Book preview

The Day

the Money

Stopped

Nick Arbuiso

missing image file

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2011 by Nick Arbuiso. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse       4/21/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6548-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6547-7 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6546-0 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011906813

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

About the Author

Dedication

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

Preface

This novel is fictional, but it is not impossible. As we know, all kinds of schemes happen in all walks of life.

I am sure that there is no law that says that it cannot happen in high places and in the lives of wealthy and powerful people. Of course, it usually doesn’t happen in high places, and if it does, money and power keep it out of sight.

If we use our imagination and erase some of the money and power, we could be looking at a true story. Read it and decide. You are the judge.

About the Author

Nick Arbuiso was born to parents who were divorced, and neither wanted custody of him. He was handed from relative to relative for most of his youth. Finally, he landed with his mother. He struggled and got a minimal education.

He did not let his background hold him back. He finally reached his goal, which was being a salesman. He then opened his own business, called Maxxus Sales Consultants, and wrote his first book, The Other 5%.

Dedication

I dedicate this novel to all the people who have inspired me with their kind words and moral support when I needed it most. When I thought, Am I crazy for writing a book? they came along and reminded me of how successful I have been at everything I have ever done, including the small paperback I published myself, The Other 5%.

I especially dedicate this novel to my wife and editor, who has always helped and encouraged me through the hardest times of my life. Thank you, dear.

Chapter One

Where It Ended: The Beginning

The story begins and ends in a scenic villa in France, about twenty kilometers south of Paris. It may not end there at all. That remains to be seen. The countryside surrounding this French villa in early winter was still green. The trees had not yet shed their leaves. The golds, browns, and faded greens were still visible among the branches. The foliage was in late autumn splendor.

Atop the rolling green hills stood a fifty-two-room villa, built in the late 1800s. Completely built of stone and mortar, it featured windows trimmed in black wrought iron to match the railings that surrounded the spacious patio, which was done in flagstone. Four-by-eight flowerbeds, accented with a few trees in each, divided the patio. The flowers bloomed in every color imaginable. The beds were filled with bright red roses, sedate yellow daffodils, and pure white chrysanthemums. They were so well trimmed that it seemed an artist’s brush was at work—a perfect painting.

Amid the spacious splendor sat two men. The first was Ned Arbo, a recently retired multimillionaire, and the other was a reporter named Carmine DeSalvo. Carmine spoke: Ned, I came all this way from the United States because I know that you did not tell me the whole truth in Washington three weeks ago. I did not come for any other reason.

I only agreed to see you, Ned replied, to give you my life story for the magazine article. Ned, I have a gut feeling you were hiding something from me. What is it you’re not saying? Is it that big or dangerous? Bigger than you could— Ned hesitated and then stopped altogether. Carmine asked, If I promise not to print it, will you tell me? Well, I will tell you off the record, Ned said. I’ll go further if you investigate the story I am about to tell you, get proof positive, and bring it to me. I will agree to printing. You verify the facts, and I will let you print it, if you want to. Have I ever broken your confidence before? And Lord knows you have told me many secrets, Carmine said. No, that’s true, Carmine. You have always been straight with me, Ned responded. You have my word of honor, Ned. With that Ned took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag. He said, Take your pad out and just write. Let me tell it to you the way it happened—no questions and no interruptions. Ned Arbo was about to reveal the most unbelievable story of success, anguish, terror, and subterfuge ever experienced by one man.

Chapter Two

What’s Happening?

Early one November morning, alarm clocks everywhere started ringing, waking up most of the working class in the northeastern United States—another day of work ahead for all. The children rolled out of bed reluctantly; it was the beginning of winter, and they would have liked another forty winks. As they came to life, their mother, Del, was running from room to room, putting the coffee on, pouring glasses of milk, and preparing breakfast. The dogs were barking to go out, and Dick, the father, yelled, Will someone let those animals out? He stumbled into the bathroom so he could be first. The children started their usual morning bickering, and Del called out, Will you both stop before you get it good? Get dressed and get down here to eat breakfast before you are late for the bus. If you miss the bus, you will walk. From somewhere upstairs came a quiet, Okay, we’ll be right down. Dick bellowed, Where the heck is my blue suit? If it had teeth, it would bite you, you dummy, Del replied. It’s behind the closet door.

That morning, madness was happening all over in one way or another. With everyone finally settled down to eat breakfast, the complaints began. The toast is too dark. The coffee tastes funny. I don’t like dry cereal! Why do we always have scrambled eggs? The complaints kept coming until Del said, All I get is complaints! From now on, you can fix your own breakfast. I am not getting up at this ungodly hour again for as long as I live. With that remark, everyone started to compliment the wonderful breakfast and also apologized for complaining.

It’s raining out. Why are the damn dogs still out? Dick screamed. They’re going to get sick. I don’t work to pay the vet. One of the children jumped up to open the door, and in came the dogs, shaking water all over Dick’s blue suit. Who the heck let these beasts in? They’re ruining my new suit! Dick yelled. It just came from the cleaners! Del calmed the animals down and wiped off Dick’s suit, and the kids towel-dried the dogs. Pretty soon, Del said, Do you children see the time? Let’s get going to the bus. Don’t forget your raincoats and boots.

With the kids gone, Del and Dick finally relaxed. Dick is Mr. Dick Fredricks, president of Luan’s Department Stores. He decided to call the 69th Street store to check with the sales manager on certain figures for the meeting with the board of directors that morning. I’ll be back in a second, he said. I have to make an important phone call.

Dick walked into the living room and tripped over a skate. He yelled, My goodness! Why don’t you teach these kids to put their toys away in the proper place? Someday you’ll collect on my life insurance this way! They’re your kids too, Del replied. Why don’t you tell them? Must I do everything around here? Dick grumbled, Oh, just forget I mentioned it.

He picked up the phone and dialed, bringing the phone to his ear. It rang about nine times; he switched the receiver to his right ear and looked down at his watch. It’s after nine o’clock, he said aloud. I wonder what kind of holiday today is? Why doesn’t that damn Reed answer the phone? He tapped his fingers impatiently on the ebony end table as he began to turn and pace. Then, a quizzical look came across his face. Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he heard a voice on the other end. He said, Where the heck have you been, Reed? He listened for a moment and then said, Joe the maintenance man? Well, where is Mr. Reed? Well, sir, I don’t know, Joe replied. He hasn’t shown up yet today. Has he called? asked Dick. No, sir, he hasn’t, said Joe. Well, okay. Let me speak to Mr. Saxton, the head salesman, said Dick. Sorry, Mr. Fredricks, came Joe’s reply. He’s not around either. By this time, Dick was furious. Damn it! he yelled. Who can I speak to? That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Joe began. Stop blabbering, Joe, and tell me! Mr. Fredricks, there is no one here but the maintenance crew, Joe said. Don’t be absurd. Today is Monday, and we open at nine o’clock, Dick replied. Well, I’m afraid we can’t open the doors because there’s no one here, said Joe. I’ll get back to you in one minute, Joe, Dick answered. Let me call Mr. Reed and find out what’s happening.

He slammed the phone down. His wife, who had overheard bits and pieces, said, My God! What’s happening? Dick turned and stormed toward her, bellowing, It’s just the way I have always said! You want something done right, you have to do it yourself! This is absolutely crazy. There is no one on the sales floor. When I find out who is responsible, he will never get a job anywhere.

Dick reached into his pocket for a capsule to treat his high blood pressure. He popped the pill into his mouth, picked up a cup of coffee, and took a gulp, washing the pill down. His wife realized that he was really hyper at that point and tried to calm him down. You know your blood pressure, Dick, she said. Take it easy. Calm down. Call Reed and get to the bottom of this mess.

He slid the chair out from under the breakfast table, took a deep breath, held it for a second, and said, My goodness, Del. What must a man do to make a living today without aggravation? Calm down, dear, and call Reed, she replied. There must be an answer. Dick turned and slammed his fist down on the table. For crying out loud! he yelled. I am fifteen minutes late for the board of directors meeting! As soon as he finished his sentence, the phone rang. He ran over, picked it up, and listened. Then he said, This is impossible, Larry! Have you called all ten stores? You mean to tell me they are all without sales help? Can someone tell me what the hell is happening? I’m sorry, Larry. It’s totally unbelievable. I’ll let you go now. I’m late for the board meeting.

Dick put the receiver down and said to Del, I’d better call Mr. Jason before he has my head for being late for the meeting. He picked up the phone and dialed the main store. May I speak to Mr. Jason, please? From the other end, a voice bellowed out, Is that you, Fredricks? Yes, it’s me, P. J., he said. Let me explain. Don’t even try. Why are you not here? Dick’s boss asked. What the heck is going on? Dick replied. Do you have any idea? I cannot figure out why all the stores are without sales help, unless it’s a strike. Mr. Jason retorted, Strike, hell! Is the whole world on strike? Not a blessed store in the mall has help, nor does the mall in the city. Of course, you’re joking, P. J., Dick said. That cannot be. That’s impossible. What do you make of it? The first thing I make of it is get your ass down here on the double, Mr. Jason said. Then we’ll get to the bottom of this. Okay, P. J., Dick said. I am on my way. He lowered the phone and turned to Del. You can’t believe everything you hear. None of the stores in the whole city have any sales help. Del replied, What do you think? I don’t really know, he responded. He sat there in total amazement. I’d better get to the meeting on the double before the old goat eats me alive.

Dick walked over to the hall closet and reached in to get his coat. I think this is going to be the worst day of my life, he said. As he slipped his arm into the sleeve, Del reached over and held the coat for him. Thank you, sweetheart, he said. Be calm, she said, and what you always tell me also goes for you: there is always a logical explanation for everything. He kissed her and said, I know, but this one will be the craziest. Don’t keep dinner for me. I know I’ll be late.

Dick opened the front door and quickly stepped out. The burst of cold winter wind on his cheeks felt good and soothing to him as he walked down the brick steps to the garage. He unlocked the garage door clumsily and thought, I’m going to fix that lock someday. With a roar, the door went up, bounced back and forth several times, and then stopped abruptly. Quickly, Dick stepped into the musty garage and opened the door of his gray Mercedes. He plopped into the seat with a thud, all 195 pounds of him. Being five feet and ten inches tall and wearing a homburg, he had to tilt his head to get it inside the car. At this rate, he thought, I wonder how many gray hairs I’ll get today.

Settled in the seat, he twisted the key, setting the car to humming. He was still wondering what was happening out there. I’d give anything to know right now, he thought. He backed the car out. Dick is the world’s worst driver. He looked up and saw Del at the window waving to him, so he waved back to her. He cruised down Tenth Street to Main and made a right, heading downtown. Looking around, everything seemed the same. But inside of him grew an ominous feeling; he felt that something was wrong. This feeling crept up on him silently.

He pulled up to a curb and walked into Pratt’s Tobacco Shop to get a pack of cigarettes. At the counter was a stranger he had never seen before, who asked, What can I get you, sir? A pack of More, please, Dick said. Where is the regular salesman, John? The man handed Dick the pack of cigarettes in disgust and answered, John has never missed a day’s work in eleven years. I don’t know where he is. I’m the owner. On his way out, Dick said, Well, pleased to meet you. Have a nice day. I will sure try, the man replied.

As Dick stooped over to get back into his car, he said to himself, Is everybody nuts today? He continued cruising down Main Street, and he turned on the radio. The news broadcast was about numerous firms calling in and saying that their salespeople had not shown up for work today. He turned it off, saying aloud, I don’t want to hear about this madness.

In the parking lot of the mall, he made a right turn and parked his car, and then he got out to look around. Everything looked normal as he walked in with his briefcase in hand. When he opened the door of the mall, he saw hundreds of people milling around, which was unusual for that time of the morning. It couldn’t be that busy, he thought. As he made his way through the crowd, he kept hearing comments like, Why are the stores closed? Is something wrong? and Hey, look. Even Luan’s is closed, and they are never closed. Dick pushed and hustled through the crowd until he got to the door of Luan’s. A sign posted on the door said, Will Be Open Soon. He reached out to open the employee’s entrance door and heard an announcement on the PA system: Due to a situation beyond our control, the mall will be opened at noon.

Dick entered the store, and the security guard greeted him. Good morning, Mr. Fredricks. Hi, Joe. How’s it going? Not so good, I’m afraid, Joe replied. Mr. Jason is in a lather. I’m sure that if you were in his place, you would be too, Dick replied. I guess I would, sir. You’re right, answered the guard.

Dick walked briskly through the maze of counters—first perfumes with their sweet smells and then through men’s clothing, where he usually browsed, but not today. He reached the door of the boardroom and turned the doorknob reluctantly, thinking, I will never forget what happens here today. Well, here goes nothing.

As Dick entered, he found utter chaos and disorder. He said, Good morning, and the chaos turned to silence. P. J. turned to him and said, Good morning or afternoon—whichever! Dick answered, Now, look here, P. J. We have enough to worry about. Your sarcasm will not help at this point, so knock off the bullshit and let’s get down to business. With that remark, everybody scurried for his or her seat. There was absolute silence as Dick marched over to the chair at the head of the table and plopped into it. He turned to Mr. Jason, who was standing there with his mouth open, staring at Dick. P. J., Dick began, if you’re not glued to the floor, sit down and let’s get to business. Those words seemed to break the spell; P. J. was awakened. He slowly took a deep breath and composed himself. He walked over next to Dick, pulled out his chair from under the table in a disgusted manner, and sat down with his eyes glued to Dick. His look was one of arrogance, as if he were thinking, Who do you think you are, popping off at me like that?

But Peter Jason knew that Dick was the kind of take-charge individual who pulled everything together in any emergency situation. He relaxed because he truly respected Dick for that quality. At first, P. J. was stunned and his pride was hurt, but all was soon forgotten. He said to Dick, "What suggestion do you have