The Darkness - Jason Pinter [50]
decision, I gotta say, because you know where I end up?
On the street. Borrowing money to buy drugs that I can't
pay for. One day I wake up in an alleyway on a Hundred
and Thirty-eighth Street with three broken fingers and a
dislocated kneecap."
He held up his left hand. Three of the fingers were held
at an awkward angle. Morgan grimaced looking at them.
"I'm in the hospital, but of course I don't have insurance. Second day I'm there, a guy comes to visit me. I
don't know him from the inside of my ass, but he tells
me all my bills are paid for. He tells me he knows who I
am, and where I've come from. His name was Stephen
Gaines, and he saved my life. Want to know how Stephen
saved me?" Leonard said.
The room nodded.
"He gave me my life back. More importantly, he let
me become a man again. See, once I lost my job, lost my
wife, lost it all, I wasn't a man anymore. I was a dickless
nothing wandering the streets waiting for someone to put
me out of my misery. And Stephen took me from that, and
he gave me my life back."
"What did he do?" Chubby asked. Leonard smiled
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and walked over to Chubby, knelt down and stared at him
in his bright red face.
"He let me earn again."
Chubby nodded, and suddenly Morgan realized he
was doing the same thing.
"I know each and every one of you," Leonard said. He
looked at Chubby. "Franklin LoBianco. Laid off from
Morgan Stanley three months ago.You're listed as owning
a four-bedroom apartment on Madison and Thirty-fourth.
Nice neighborhood, Franklin, but I bet you're wishing
you didn't splurge on that four-bedroom now."
Franklin lowered his head.
Leonard walked around the room and stopped by a
young Indian man with a slight goatee and an earring.
"Nikesh Patel," Leonard said. "You were the chief financial analyst at a hedge fund that was worth one point two
billion dollars. But then that fund blew up, and you were
without a job. I bet it makes paying for your parents'
home in New Delhi rather difficult."
Nikesh opened his mouth questioningly, but shut it as
Leonard walked around the room some more. Morgan
went rigid as Leonard stopped right by him and looked
down at him.
"Morgan Isaacs," Leonard said. "A few years ago, you
bought your apartment for one point eight million dollars.
I'm sure at the time it seemed like a good buy. A good
investment. But records show that that same apartment
was listed two months ago at one point five. Then one
month ago at one point two. Now, it's currently off the
market. Figure between costs and renovations, you're out
a million dollars minimum. And this real estate market
isn't going up anytime soon."
Morgan felt the eyes of the room locked on to him, but
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when he met their gaze he saw there was no condescension, no patronage, no disdain. Instead there was pity. And
Morgan smiled when he saw his fellow brothers, knowing
they were right there with him.
"In the past twenty-four months," Leonard said, standing straight up and walking back to the front of the room,
"I have made two point three million dollars. Twice as
much as I ever made on Wall Street. And that's in the
worst economy in decades."
Morgan could tell his eyes were just one of a dozen
pairs that went wide when hearing that sum.
Leonard continued. "And that's after taxes."
A few hushed whispers now rose through the room, including one person who said, quite audibly, "Bullshit."
Leonard locked eyes with the speaker, a bald, black guy in
his early thirties. "Two point three after taxes, that's, what,
four million before Uncle Sam takes his cut?You're telling
us you went from being broke-ass on the street to making
seven figures after taxes in two years? In this economy?"
Leonard nodded. "Welcome to the new America," he
said.
"How?" Chubby said, suddenly springing to life.
"How," Leonard said, rubbing his chin as though debating the question. "That's the key. How. And I'm guessing not just how, but how can you do it, too. That's kind
of a multipart