Title: The Arkansas Connection
Author Name: David Evans
Author Bio:
David Evans is a Toronto-based pain consultant with an interest in all types of chronic, intractable non–cancer pain. An avid fly fisherman, crossword and Sudoko aficianado and global traveler, The Arkansas Connection is David’s first novel but he is hard at work on a second one!Author Links -
www.thearkansasconnection.com https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18334552-the-arkansas-connection?from_search=true http://www.amazon.com/The-Arkansas-Connection-David-Evans-ebook/dp/B00BJCFNKA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1384466022&sr=8-1&keywords=%22the+arkansas+connection%22About The Book
Book Genre: Contemporary Fiction
Publisher: Jemsdale Publishing
Release Date: February 21, 2013
Buy Link: Amazon
PLEASE NOTE: There are some suggestive scenes and swearing in the book- so it’s not for children.
The Arkansas Connection
by David Evans
Excerpt 2
Bobby did return the
next week to watch the Tigers play against a team that apparently had
no trouble with their septic tanks, the Brownwood Dodgers. The teams
were made up mostly of young enthusiastic guys in their thirties
trying to escape from their wives and kids for a night out with the
boys. There were also some veterans, a few who had played in semi-pro
leagues. Jonathon Brown stood out, both physically and athletically.
He was twenty-two years of age, about six feet four inches tall with
long, blond hair. Most women, Bobby thought, would consider him
extremely handsome. He had the upper body of a heavyweight boxer and
the legs of an Olympic sprinter, and seemed to glide over the field,
defying gravity.
He played right
field, and propelled the first ground ball that came to him like a
radar-guided rocket to first base, to get the runner before he was
halfway there. He moved effortlessly to the right or left, making
impossible-looking catches and gathering up ground balls that were
drawn to him like magnets to a refrigerator door. He was also
impressive at the plate. He hit three monster homers and drove in
eight runs. Bobby had to keep telling himself that this was a
primitive team in a primitive league. In this company, even he might
look like Willie Mays. Yet he had the feeling that Jonathon would
look good in any league, including the Majors.
Bobby returned a
number of times, and was never disappointed. The boy was good. Good
enough that he was determined to call Frank Munro and try to get him
to give Jonathon a trial. Of course, he had to talk to Jonathon
first. For all Bobby knew, the guy might already have been scouted
and have an agent. He knew that that even in a population of three
hundred million, it was rare for someone with Jonathon’s talent to
go unnoticed.
He was determined to
do this after his next visit. As it turned out, he made a mistake
reading the schedule and he didn’t watch Jonathon the jock perform
but Jonathon the investment counselor. Having found the field bereft
of baseball players, Bobby asked a gas station attendant where he
might find Jonathon.
Monday nights you’ll
find him in the back room at Betty’s Diner,” the attendant told
him. “He runs some sort of club for people who want to get into the
stock market. Can’t understand why anyone would want to chuck their
money away like that. The bank was good enough for my grandfather and
my father, and it’s good enough for me. Mind you, by the look of
the cars they’re driving, they must by doing pretty good.”
Betty’s was about
a mile out of town, an oasis in a wide expanse of cow pasture. There
were about ten cars parked in front, and Bobby couldn’t help
noticing that besides half a dozen of the ubiquitous half-ton pickup
trucks, there were also a couple of fancy looking sport utilities,
and even a Corvette and a Porsche. Betty was standing behind the
counter reading the latest line on the nags running at Pimlico. There
were no customers in the diner.
“I’m looking for
Jonathon Brown,” Bobby said. “The guy at the gas station thought
he might be here.”
“Yep,” she said,
pointing a greasy finger to a door at the rear of the diner. “He’s
got his meeting in the back room. Every month. Investments and
things. Danged if I understand it, but some of those guys are now
gentlemen farmers....Well, I dunno about gentlemen, but they’ve
certainly given up shoveling shit for a living.”
“Do you think
they’d mind if I went in?”
“Nah, I don’t
think so. It ain’t exclusive or nothin’ like that.”
Bobby invested in a
Coke and a multi-layered burger and fries, and quietly slipped into
the back room. Jonathon was explaining the finer points of a graph
thrown onto a screen by an overhead projector. He was dressed in
black pants, a pure white shirt and a red tie. He was also wearing
suspenders. There were about ten people in the audience taking notes.
Jonathon paused and
acknowledged the presence of the stranger. “Can’t say I recognize
you,” he said. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No,” Bobby
agreed. “I came to see you play baseball, but got the days mixed
up. I wanted to talk to you. Would you mind if I sat in until you’re
finished? If not, I’d be quite happy to sit in the diner…. ”
“No, no,”
Jonathon insisted, “stick around, by all means. We’re talking
stocks and stuff, so it may be a bit boring. Baseball it ain’t.”
Bobby sat down and
listened for two hours, fascinated by a discussion surrounding the
stock market potential of about twenty small to medium-sized
companies. All were listed on various stock exchanges around the
country. As far as Bobby could tell they were mostly computer
companies, but there were also a couple of banks and oil and gas
companies.
Each member of the
club apparently had the responsibility of assessing at least one
stock. This assessment meant reading annual reports, scanning the
major business papers for articles or mere mentions. Specific trade
journals would be scanned. Especially important was the strength of
management, earning potential, product uniqueness and market share.
Often a member would actually go to the town where his company was
located. He would look at the plant and watch for activity. If
possible, he would inveigle his way into the plant and observe
production lines. He might also pick up some local gossip as to how
the company was doing. All this information was given to Jonathon. He
would then plug that information plus some of his own ideas into a
computerized model that he himself had developed, to give a bottom
line: Buy or Sell.
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