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The Brothers Four
The Brothers Four
The Brothers Four
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The Brothers Four

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This book is about four brothers—two older and two younger—who experience multiple life-changing events starting with the murder of their parents on Thanksgiving night in 1985. The older brothers are street savvy, and the younger brothers are book smart. Their journey becomes one of survival because the older brothers make it a point that their younger brothers finish high school and pursue higher education. The older brothers have dead-end jobs, and they resort to hustling in the streets of Detroit. But they were not prepared for what they encounter along the way to money, power, and fortune. They spend countless time reflecting on what they will do when and if they find their parents’ killer, and the real twist takes place when they do. To the readers of this book, I hope you find the outcome inspiring.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherAuthorHouse
Release dateJan 17, 2019
ISBN9781546274773
The Brothers Four
Author

Timothy Lamb

My name is Timothy Lamb. I am 49 years old and I reside in Birmingham Alabama. This is my first book, my baby so to speak so I am nervous about it. I have had this book idea inside of my head for eight years now and started writing it Christmas 2015. Through my life’s journey is what has helped influence and inspire me writing this book. My life journey has been unique; I have experienced things the average person would never encounter. I am unapologetic about my journey however; there are some things I wish I could change but my experiences have molded me and made me the man I am today. Thank you and God bless.

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    The Brothers Four - Timothy Lamb

    © 2019 Timothy Lamb. 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.

    Published by AuthorHouse 01/16/2019

    ISBN: 978-1-5462-7478-0 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-5462-7476-6 (hc)

    ISBN: 978-1-5462-7477-3 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2019900155

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

    and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

    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

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Final Chapter

    About the Author

    PREFACE

    This book is about four brothers, two older and two younger that lose their parents to a violent crime in Detroit, Michigan in 1985 during the rise of the Crack epidemic. The main characters starting with the youngest to the oldest Miles Jaylyn Lacey, Keith Preston Lacey Terrance Ramon’ Lacey, and Arthur Chandler Lacey the oldest of the brothers. After the untimely death of their parents the older two brothers face the responsibility of raising and educating their two younger brothers. Working dead end jobs without anything more than a high school diploma the older two brothers do what they feel they have to do to keep their brothers out of an already crowded foster care system.

    The younger two siblings are very smart and bright kids. Miles who is a border line genius and offers very solid financial advice to his brothers after falling on hard times when the older brothers start dealing drugs to make ends meet. As a result the older brothers take all the risk of selling drugs to educate their younger brothers but not without the contribution of the younger siblings being an instrumental part in the building of their hustling empire. The boys rise to fame and fortune and manage to put together legitimate lucrative businesses, while yet taking on life and struggling with the untimely death of their parents still haunts them daily.

    CHAPTER 1

    Our story begins Thanksgiving 1985 in Detroit, Michigan my brother Terrance had just gotten out of jail the week before from serving a 120 day sentence for parole violation. Terrance has always been the silent type with nothing much to say which made him dangerous, he had an assault charge and a marijuana possession charge. It seemed as though the judge had it in for him and all the other guys in our neighborhood whenever someone stepped out of line they got hit hard with maximum sentences. Me; my name is Myles Jalyn Lacey the baby boy of the crew and glad to have my older brother home because I know for a fact he was bullshitted! When I got old enough to see all of the injustice that was taking place on the young men in my community that’s when I made up my mind to concentrate on becoming an attorney.

    The family had just finished eating Thanksgiving dinner and my mother had really outdone herself this year, she used every recipe she had brought up here from Mississippi and showed her true country roots. It was something different however in my fathers’ voice when he blessed the food; he spoke to God about keeping us together no matter what and to keep us in alliance to always be able to depend on each other. My brother Keith and I had been cleaning up the kitchen after eating Thanksgiving dinner and celebrating Terrance being home. My brothers and father were watching football in the den; everything seemed like old times and we all were in good high spirits. My mother yelled to my father come on Rev. and let’s get ready, you are taking me to the movies for our date night. Everyone called my dad Rev. because he always tried to do what’s right and not be judgmental of others.

    A little history about my father, he grew up poor in Mississippi and had always heard about how everyone that went to the big cities got good jobs and made good livings. He was dating my mother and wanted to marry her but was bound and determined that he and his family would never live as paupers or below a decent standard of life. He moved to Detroit in the spring of 1962 and managed to get a job at the General Motors plant; two months later he sent for my mother and they were married soon after. A year later my oldest brother Arthur was born and two years later in 1965 Terrance was born; Keith was born late in 1969 and nine months later in 1970 I made my appearance. Even though my father earned a good living at the General Motors plant, there was still racism and segregation of sorts that prevented him at times from reaching the heights he dreamed. Even though my father had come a long way from the back roads of Mississippi, he felt as though the sky was holding him back.

    We lived in a nice neighborhood, dressed nice and got a new car every two to three years except for my father’s truck which was pretty old but gave him a hobby of keeping it restored. My father after years of taking one class at a time finally graduated from Michigan State University and received his Bachelors’ degree in business which opened up even more doors for advancement for him to move into lower to mid management positions at the plant. My father was a very humble man and prayed about everything and would not move until he felt as though God answered his prayers. We attended Church and Bible study weekly, even revivals when they were at our church, my father had respect and support from the community and anyone he encountered. My father worked hard his whole life and with my older two brothers he made the mistake of working too much and they were too much of a handful for my mother; by the time Keith and I came along though he was on point with us.

    My mother on the other hand was a mild mannered country lady that believed in traditional family ways and values, in her case she was a stay at home mom and homemaker. She was always supportive of my father and they loved each other dearly, when they first moved to Detroit they were all they had. No family, friends or other support system and this is what made their relationship stronger and to depend on each other only. My mothers’ strength was in her silence; a look alone would show whether or not she approved of your behavior and believe me you did not want the latter. My mother never asked for much but always got plenty from my father just because; whether it was flowers just because it was Tuesday or a note at the table when my father would leave for work in the morning simply saying I love you and can’t wait to get back home tonight. My father would always tell us how fortunate he was to have our mother and that his prayer was for us to seek the same in a woman.

    My oldest brother, Arthur Chandler Lacey was like the typical big brother. He got into his fair share of trouble but overall was a good person, he never went to college even though my father nearly begged him to at least go to community college or one of the local trade schools to learn a trade instead of the dead end jobs he was working for chicken feed as my father would say. But Art as we called him did not heed my fathers’ words nor could he help him get a job at General Motors because he could not pass the assessment exam. Art was working at a local tire shop changing tires and was living in the basement as a choice, this would give him the freedom to come and go as he pleased without question. He was well liked in the neighborhood by the good and bad guys, they never gave him a problem because of our father which was good otherwise growing up he would have had many more fist fights than he did. When he had gotten older however all of this super nice passiveness would change.

    My second to the oldest brother, Terrance Ramon Lacey or Bull as we refer to him has always been somewhat of the silent sneaky type. Bull would always give you a blank stare so unless you truly knew him you did not know what he was thinking. He got the nickname Bull because when he was younger in elementary school he would get picked at and called dummy for his lack of communication. When he reached junior high school two guys were picking on him and he exploded! He ran up and tackled one of them without warning and butted his forehead in the guys’ chin causing him to bleed profusely. The other guy he grabbed and began to sling him around like a piece of cloth kind of like a rag that was stuck on a bulls’ horn. He never focused on education as much as my father would have like him to and offered him the same opportunity that he did Art but Bull declined. He got in trouble, had weed in his possession so there you have it. On a brighter note however, my father had a friend who was an independent construction contractor and agreed to let Bull work for him and pay him cash under the table. So my father was talking to him about the details of that as well and urged him to make the best of this arrangement to learn all he could to improve himself and self-worth.

    Next we have my brother that is next to me in age, Keith Preston Lacey. Keith is a lot like me in that we are only nine months apart; I think this is the roughest time my mother ever had in her life because Keith was still in diapers and was barely trying to take steps when I was born. Having two infant children, two grade school children and being a homemaker as well is enough, I could imagine making nearly anyone lose it. It was a good thing that my father had gotten promoted into management shortly afterwards because he was home a lot more and helped out with us far more than he did with my two oldest brothers. Keith is so much like my father in that he tries too hard to be a perfectionist in that he is smart but in order for him to excel he has to study harder and put in more effort than me. Being so close in age we were always competitive and I always made him try harder than I had to, but it was all in fun and we are best friends. Keith or Ke as we call him even though he is only nine months older than me he still considers himself my big brother, he acts as though he is 10 years my senior. A lot of the things we would do and get into he was following my lead to make sure that I don’t get into trouble and to protect me.

    Now we get to the meat of this thing, which would be me; Myles Jaylyn Lacey better known as the man, boy genius or little black Einstein. I have been blessed with a high I.Q. and in some instances I have a photogenic memory which is good and bad in some cases. The good; it is excellent for taking tests, remembering material and making an ass out of my teachers and instructors on the other hand when you have all of these materials in your head and your course of study has moved on your stuck with it there and nothing to do with it you kind of go nuts a little bit! My nickname is M.J. I’m the one that is the glue that will soon hold an empire together on both sides of the law. There was never a doubt about me going to college the question was just where I wanted to go. The only deciding factor was where Ke would get accepted, because we had already stated we would earn our degree together. I had the SAT scores to go anywhere I chose but Ke did not have as many options as I did.

    It’s amazing how a tragedy that can change your entire life can work for the good of making a bond stronger. In some ways we seemed like a happy middle class family that would have a story book ending. The chain of events changed all of our lives, whereas we thought we were all close before we had no idea how much closer we could be and would become. The brothers four as we were called would give a new meaning to being for each other. As I was saying before my brother Ke and I were doing the dishes and cleaning up after another one of my mothers’ Thanksgiving dinners and celebrating my brother Bull’s return home. Bull was starting a job with a contractor friend of my fathers’ and seemed to really take an interest in what he would be doing and learning. Afterwards my parents got dressed to catch the 6:45 PM movie that my mother wanted to see; I was doing homework at the kitchen table and helping Ke with an assignment he had due the following week.

    Art and Bull were giving us shit as usual for being on vacation from school and still doing school work like calling us black Poindexters and little chocolate nerds. But our regular responses to them when the parents were not around were usually the F bomb, or spell it. One thing for sure they would give us a hard time but anyone else knew up front to back off; they were threatened with an ass whippin’ and knew it would be followed through with. So a couple of the guys from the neighborhood stopped by when my parents were leaving to hang around and watch the game which was nothing unusual. Once the parents were out of the house is when the jokes started going around; Poncho said to me and Ke yall lil’ nigga’s always got your heads in books instead of all these lil young tenders running around here. Art quickly intervened and said hey nigga lay off my brothers, like I did your momma this morning when we heard you drag your tired drunk ass in the house. I did have enough respect to slide out that hoe and not let you know it was me that left that $15 on the counter for groceries. The room erupted in laughter! Poncho was an asshole at times but had to laugh at that one himself and stated, yall talkin’ shit cause yall gettin’ all that back money from yall mammy being on the Aunt Jemima boxes! And that’s how the night went while the folks were gone; same ole same ole having what we called a good time.

    CHAPTER 2

    As the night went on and started getting later Ke and I were watching television, Art was on the phone with his girlfriend Rosetta and Bull was outside smoking a joint. Dirty Red and Poncho had just left the house and we were settling in for the night waiting on our parents to get home. 15 to 20 minutes later Poncho came bursting through the door sweating and winded! We thought he may have gotten jumped or something and he said man come quick yall! Its yall folks man its yall folk’s nigga! We grabbed our coats and hit the door full speed following Poncho to the corner and there we saw it; flashing lights, yellow tape and two bodies covered up. The police let Art and Bull walk up to identify the bodies and it was them; both of our parents were robbed and murdered in the street down the street from our home.

    At that moment I went numb; I felt tears burning as they ran down my face, I could see people and faces but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The last thing I remembered about that scene was me and my three brothers holding each other crying as they loaded our parents in the back of those ambulances. The police took me and Ke back to the house where we were met by all of our neighbors who were there; some crying and others giving us words of encouragement and vowing to help us find who did this because our parents were good people and did not deserve this. The police took Art to the precinct to get a statement while they were trying to gather witnesses to see exactly what happened or if anyone knew who did it. Several hours later Art was back home and had the most bewildered and lost look on his face that I had ever seen; he began to weep and erupt into tears again and we all put our arms around each other as we began to feel the hurt all over again.

    Art told us the details they had at the time which was very sketchy but it appears that as my parents were walking home from the movies when they were approached by one gunman and my father immediately put himself in front of the man protecting my mother. My father was quoted as saying here young man take it all just don’t hurt my wife. The robber took the money from my father and grabbed my mothers’ purse and threw it to the ground; my mother resisted when he tried to take her wedding ring stating hell no! Get your damn hands off me! My father stated baby let him have it’s not worth it. As he reached for the ring his gun went off and shot my mother in the chest. My father looked at my mother as she fell to the ground and said you bastard! and grabbed the robber by the throat and began choking him to the ground and that’s when he shot my father. The grip my father had around the guys’ throat was so strong he shot him twice more to get away from him, that’s when the guy limped away and fled.

    The statement was taken from a crackhead who was the only witness that saw everything; other people saw the guy fleeing but did not get a clear look at him. I think we pretty much stayed up all that night; it felt surreal like a nightmare or a bad dream that we could not wake up from. This was the hardest thing I had to face my entire short life to lose both of my parents at the same time and then for them to be murdered was the worst of it. This too added gasoline to me wanting to become a lawyer to find out who was responsible for killing my parents and bringing them to justice; being through the court system or street justice. My father always kept things organized and was detail oriented so he did have a will in place to take care of us; the house was paid off and so was my mothers’ car. The burials were prepaid and so were the plots but the hard part was putting together an obituary; going through their lives and old pictures to give a last account of how their time was spent here was agonizing and I couldn’t deal with it. Art came to me and Ke and said yall lil niggas is finishing high school, going to college and finishing there too. Daddy had trust funds to pay for it and yall too smart to be roaming these streets like these other clueless fools out here. We have insurance money to take care of the house and that’s what will be used to keep us afloat; momma and daddy wouldn’t have it any other way and neither will I.

    That next week was pure bitter hell; that following Friday my parents would be laid to rest. Leading up to it everything seemed so surreal; it was like a nightmare that I could not wake up from but I had to come to grips that this nightmare was now all of our reality. We made phone calls to our relatives that we could get in touch with to tell them the bad news and later that week they started coming into town. My father was only 46 years old and my mother was 45; their lives were cut way too short for the plans we had in mind. I dreamed of my parents being there to see not only me and my brothers’ children but our grandchildren; spending every Sunday evening here at the house eating dinner as a family and starting a new tradition,instead we are going through old photos and writing our parents obituaries. The crazy thing is I think if they had passed at different times one would have not lived very long after the other, or at least they would not have wanted to. After all the arrangements were made and Reverend Miller agreed to eulogize my parents.

    Now some other bullshit jumped off; my Uncle Malone and Aunt Paula were convinced that they were going to take custody of Ke and me; and got into an argument over which one of them it was going to be. Through all of the commotion Art and Bull stepped in and intervened and Art politely told them my brothas’ aint going no damn where. My father made me promise him a long time ago that I would take care of them and see to them finishing school and to take care of my mother if anything was ever to happen to him and that’s what I’m going to do. There was an eerie silence in the room and Art said furthermore I can’t believe you coming into our house with this bullshit; we can’t grieve over our parents for you two assholes that never liked us anyway coming with yalls’ shit. Get Out! Funerals bring out something very different in people, some come around to see what was left for them or to claim things the deceased promised them; others come to be nosey and take things they think may go unnoticed. All I knew was that my parents were having their home going tomorrow; I didn’t know how I was going to handle it.

    I barely slept that night and was up early; neighbors and church members were bringing food and so forth and we were trying to get dressed and prepare for the worst thing that has ever happened to us and Ke and I just could not get it together. We walked out in the back yard and Art and Bull were smoking weed and said hit this, it’ll take the edge off and make you feel a lil numb but it will help you hold your shit together. We walked towards them and Bull said here man. Ke and I looked at each other and Ke took it right off, he inhaled it and choked a little bit and then hit it again. After his third pull he passed it to me, I took it in my hands and at this moment my life changed as I knew it. I pulled real hard on it and it choked the hell out of me! It felt like I had fur in my chest and was on fire at the same time, I was choking and felt like I couldn’t get all of the smoke out and that’s when it hit me. I heard my heart beating in my ears and I got thirsty but I was calm; I felt an inner peace I had never felt before and I could focus regardless of what was going on. Art was talking and I don’t remember what the hell he was saying but I felt better than I had in a week; I had found solitude, my safe haven and my pain medicine. I was still a virgin but I had found my first true love, Mary Jane. She took my cherry the first time we met and it has been a fairy tale love affair ever since.

    By this time the limo had pulled up to take us to the church and I was still high as a Georgia pine tree, an old expression my father use to say. The ride seemed longer than it really was and when we got there and got to that first row and I saw my parents laying there looking like they were asleep the reality had set in. We sat down and I’ll never forget how me and my brothers hugged and cried together as this was the last time we would see our parents again; when the viewing was over and the coffins closed I found out what new beginnings were all about. Reverend Miller spoke eloquently about my parents and how their presence would be missed in the church and throughout the community, and I’m sitting in church still high from an hour ago. When the service was over we made our way to the graveside and laid my parents to rest at their final resting place it was agonizing and a bit of relief, at least now the healing could begin and we could start our own investigation of what really happened. I was convinced that the police were not going to do anything or even care for that matter, because there were two more murders that night and I knew the only way they would solve it was if the evidence fell into their laps.

    We didn’t go to the repast at the church afterwards; we just went home and did the best we could to take our minds off of what had happened. However people still came by to check on us and offer their condolences for our loss; guys in the hood came by to tell us that they were on the lookout for information leading to who had done this. These guys were the shady ones in the neighborhood that were selling dope and were on the rise; good people to know and be on their good side which we were. After Reverend Miller left, that was the last of the company and when the final reality set in; we were all alone and went to our private spaces to grieve and figure out how we were going to face the long road ahead. Ke and I went back to school and its funny how no matter how hurt you are the world around seems not to know or care what you’re going through; but I found my relief and go to which was weed. I knew a few guys at school that sold weed and we became good friends; I helped them with their grades and they gave me the top notch oowee for the low. I did however maintain my good grades and found weed to help me focus and concentrate; anyone that says weed is a gateway drug is crazy it’s just that whoever is using drugs is trying to hide deeper than the weed will take them.

    CHAPTER 3

    Time has rolled on and Rosetta, Arts girlfriend has really stepped in helping us around the house to keep it looking like people lived there. My brothers are working hard at their jobs and everything is about as normal as can be expected. Ke and I still attend church every once and awhile and the members are glad to see us. Rosetta cooks Sunday dinners for us and Art and Bull maintain the house; our only job is to go to school and finish college. Poncho and some of the other guys were over and talking to my brothers and was asking Art to go and talk to Hollywood for them; Hollywood was the man when it came to pushing and moving weight. Hollywood and Art have been friends since they were in elementary school together and played basketball and football together through high school. Hollywood did not come around after he got involved with the game because he knew how my father felt about that kind of activity; out of respect he stayed away from our home. He was at the funeral and talked to Art afterwards and let him know that he was there for him and they were still boys regardless.

    Poncho was like damn Art we’ll give you the paper to go to Wood cause he cuttin’ our hair with his high ass tickets; I mean we payin’ 11 and 12 hundred a zip makin’ it hard to eat out here. Art was like he had been thinking about it because he and Bull were just making ends meet and that was it; he bought himself a little 80 model Cutlass to get back and forth to work while Bull was driving daddy’s work truck. We still had like 20 grand left from my parents’ insurance policies but in the blink of an eye something could happen to wipe it out and we would be all assed out for sure. Art said I’ll see what’s up with him; he’s always told me he got a spot for me so I’ll blow at him tomorrow when I get off from work. Arts job was dead end and he was getting nowhere fast; Bull as well and the thing about his job was that they had a big project in New York that they were starting on but his boss didn’t have the money to pay for their expenses. Either they could pay their own way for the first month or so or he would find people that lived there to help him complete the project. Things were starting to happen fast that could bring about some desperate changes that could threaten our livelihoods.

    Art paged Hollywood on his lunch break and let him know that he needed to sit down and chop it up with him for a few; he told him to come to his house and he will be waiting on him. Art said your house, house? So he was impressed with the invitation; he got off at six that night and went to see Wood. When he walked in it was like a palace or mansion in their; his shit was laid with big screen televisions with surround sounds everywhere along with cameras watching the entire block. Hollywood came down the stairs my nigga Art up in this bitch baby! Shit nigga what’s on ya mind Babyboy? Art was like man shit about to get real at the pad and I’m learning I aint half the man my old man was; we got some money issues that’s about to straight up hit us in the ass! Hollywood told him you came to the right place baby. They sat there and went over some numbers and Art was on that shit that if Wood wasn’t gonna treat the fellas right he would. He hit him with six grand for a quarter brick which is love; considering he normally gets nine. He also hit Art with them partnering up when he get his paper right which would help him get more dope in at a cheaper price. The reason he stepped on Poncho and the other fellas was well he never liked them and wanted to starve them out, his words were fuck em’!

    When Art got to the house that night I heard him talking to Bull about what he was thinking about doing and Bull was like shit dog if you think we can do it I’m in. But one thing about it you better be sure cause once we out there aint no turnin’ back; we outlaws from here on out. Art stated man the lil change we got left we gotta make it count; the only money that’s gonna be left is their college fund money and they goin’ to school no questions. And we aint about to let them get put into the system nor go live with other relatives so look we gotta do this shit and make it work, my job aint worth a damn and you about to lose yours so we in and we winnin’. Bull, bet that shit up. They pounded fists and it was in stone; they were sitting there trying to decide how they were going to distribute the dope and the figures they were taking were going to run them in the ground before they got started. That’s when I stepped in and showed them how to make it happen; I know numbers along with percentages and interest not to mention profit margins.

    I told them look sell your ounces for nine each, aint nobody else doin’ it. We’ll lose a little in profit but we will move more dope. Second no cutting it with anything, that way we won’t hurt our product quality again nobody else is doing it. And third wholesale the biggest part of it and retail the rest. They looked at me like they didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. I explained that wholesaling is selling ounces to the fellas or what you call weight; retailing is cooking crack and selling dimes which no one else is selling which makes since because it is easier to come up with $10 than it is to come up with $20. They didn’t know who to get to sell the crack but I did; Damien and Damon the twins I bought weed from. They were talking about how Hollywood would never put them on or give them a chance so I would talk to them the next day and let them know if they wanted the opportunity that they were on deck. The next day everything went smooth as planned, Art went to the bank and got the money, Bull went and bought a scale and I employed our first retail sellers. Ke talked to a couple of guys he knew and they were tired of not getting the quality they were promised and wanted to see what we were talking about.

    That night was the start of our empire; we broke down the powder into 28 gram ounces which came up half an ounce or 14 grams (half an ounce of cocaine) over which was to our good. We had our ounce guys come by and hit them for nine a pop ($900 an ounce of cocaine); six times nine is $5400 so we were only $600 short of our initial investment within hours after we bought it. We cooked it without baking soda and lost a lil bit after cutting up 300 dime sized rocks; shortly our retail guys came by and we paid them $20 per $100. Which turn meant they sell eight for us and the other two was theirs which would bring us a profit of $2400 per ounce. Our profits would be $6600 off of a quarter brick (nine ounces of cocaine); some guys selling whole bricks (kilogram of cocaine) would only see these types of profits. I explained to my brothers the cheaper prices would help our guys make more money and as their needs would grow so would our purchases and the more you buy the cheaper your price is. By strengthening our guys purchasing power would only enrich us more; not only that it would make our competition succumb to us.

    The next day was

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