Sand Pail City , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Daniel Printz

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144 pages

English

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'Marshall Brickman, mayor of Sand Pail City, can't escape his past when a newcomer evokes some bitter feelings that could cause the downfall of his political and entrepreneurial empire. During the eighties, Brickman was instrumental in transforming a once sleepy fishing village into a sprawling wonderland of ocean side shopping, restaurants, and golf communities for the retired and affluent. Everything seems to be going fine as he makes preparations to become the new lieutenant governor candidate in the upcoming gubernatorial race. Things begin to unravel fast when Dusty Johnson moves into town, immediately getting the attention of a few locals who can see that the young man bears a strong resemblance to Bill Holly, a fisherman and community leader who was tragically killed when his boat mysteriously caught fire. What results is a snowball of events that inevitably leads to a clash between Brickman, some of the locals, and Brickman's mafia-like partners who were always suspected of lighting the fire that killed Holly, making it easier to build high-rise condos where the fishermen's homes once rested. Decorated by the colorful characters that reside among its condos and palmettos, Sand Pail City is also a story of envy, greed, and forgiveness.

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Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	10 juin 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780983289227
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Title Page
SAND PAIL CITY
By
Daniel Printz

Publisher Information
Copyright © 2011 by Daniel Printz
Out In Left Publishing
Moneta, VA 24121
www.OutInLeft.com
Cover Art by Devin Fallen
www. fallenartworks.com
Digital edition converted and
Distributed in 2012 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America

Dedication
For Dad...

Chapter One
The Good Mayor
Content would be the best way to describe Mayor Marshall Brickman as he faced Amy, his niece and recent graduate of Florida State’s communications program, with a focus on public relations. After going through numerous candidates (all females) the good mayor decided it was time to throw a little bone of charity to his wife’s side and hired the vivacious young lady to be his PR person.
“Okay, let’s hear what you’ve got,” she said, all smiles and bronze- skinned, blond, Southern charisma. She wore bifocals, but this only made her more attractive - perhaps too attractive to be taken seriously. The glasses were an attempt, as was the hair, tied in a loose bun, to look more professional, but the poor girl couldn’t hide her sexual allure.
The good mayor cleared his throat as he normally did whenever he said something of importance, or at least something he thought had importance. He was a giant of a man, standing at around six feet, three inches, with a massive, rotund torso. He was an imposing figure even in his breeziest of clothes, which on this day included white pants with a nice, turquoise, collared shirt. He normally walked with his shoulders back and his gut lurching forward. It didn’t take an out-of-towner long to realize that he was a figure of some importance to Sand Pail City. His hair was still as dark as it was when he was a child, although it was thinning on top. This wasn’t a big deal considering that he usually wore a fedora or Panama Jack-style broad-brimmed hat whenever he was milling about in the small Florida coastal town. His face was also pleasant and almost childlike; it was a face that was very expressive, a definite weapon for any politician. On the few occasions he showed anger, people held their breath with apprehension, but when he smiled or laughed, his countenance would have the reverse effect and people couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
“To start things off,” his voice sounded with some force through the office with its beige carpeting and green colored walls that were covered for the most part by bookcases, trophy and award shelves, and wood paneling that framed the three large windows. His massive, oak desk creaked with his weight as he leaned back against it. The desk, along with his old, leather, swivel chair didn’t match the rest of the office’s décor, but he would never sacrifice comfort for style. “I want to start off by saying just how important a day like today is. As a society we need to start showing our compassion and admiration for the poor.”
“Uh, admiration. Hm.” Amy was pensive as she considered this part of the address. “How about understanding? We need to show our compassion and understanding for the poor.”
Brickman furrowed his brows. “No admiration?”
“No. Admiration isn’t a feeling people normally have for the poor.” Amy was sitting in front of him with a pad and pen, taking notes.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” the mayor replied in his folksy tone. “I kinda admire anyone who can put a meal together from the dumpster behind Charlie’s Grill and still keep it down. But hell, that’s probably what he’s been feeding us anyway.” Brickman’s easy Southern tone was pleasant to listen to, even to the people from the Northeast who ventured down for the winter months. His one-liners, though stale at times, couldn’t help but evoke a grin.
He shot a look at the third person in his office, his associate Marcus Butoni, who was sitting toward the back corner, as he typically did, in a rattan chair with soft leather cushions reading the New York Times. Marcus glanced up briefly just to show he was still in the vicinity of the conversation. He was an attractive man in his early forties, though he looked younger. The Florida sun was kind to him as he maintained a healthy tan that went well with his groomed, salon-styled hair and goatee. Originally from New York, Butoni was no stranger to keeping up a good appearance. “Okay, okay understanding then,” Brickman continued. “Understanding and compassion for the poor. There aren’t too many places in this state, hell, in this country, where you won’t find the impoverished.”
“Okay,” Amy said, once again stopping him. “The hell can be charming in a different kind of address. One that isn’t so serious. Don’t forget you are talking about poverty.”
Brickman sighed a little, showing the first signs of impatience. He rubbed the back of his head, nodding in agreement. “Okay, no hell. There aren’t too many places, no hell. Hell out, okay? Good. I can remember one time when this transient approached my car.”
Amy interrupted again, and Marshall tried to correct himself as they stumbled on each other’s words. “I don’t know about using that word,” she managed to say.
“Which one? Transient?” “Yeah.”
“I was gonna use panhandler, but that doesn’t sound too good either. We used to use bum back before your PC squad locked it up with some other choice words I won’t bother saying.”
“Could you go with homeless? Or indigent?”
“Indigent?” Marshall gave her a pleasant beam. “Now, Amy darling, just because these people are poor it doesn’t mean they can’t have babies.” A brief laugh sounded from Marcus’s corner. Brickman grinned at him.
“You like that?” Amy grinned and looked down briefly.
“Uh, I’m not sure that, uh,” she stammered.
“Hey, Amy,” the mayor said with the reassuring voice that had won so many over. “I know what it means. I was just messing with you, come on now. You gotta loosen up a little if you’re gonna ride on the Brickman Express.”
“Ask him to spell it,” Marcus called out with his rapid-fire, New York accent.
“Hey, we had a deal,” Brickman returned. “Just twenty words out of you during this meeting and your balance is now around ten. So indigent’s good?” He looked down at Amy with expectation.
“Well yes, but now I’m thinking it might sound too close to ignorant, and people might not make that distinction because - ”
“Because they are. Ignorant, that is,” Marshall said with a grin. “How about impoverished?”
Brickman pointed at her with a wink. “That’s my girl; impoverished works for me.” The desk creaked with his shifting. “Now this impoverished man who approached my car, a Negro if I remember correctly.”
“Uh, race may not be relevant,” Amy quickly said.
Brickman pinched at his nose, a sign of frustration. Amy glanced back toward Marcus, who was immersed in his paper and didn’t offer any assistance.
“Okay,” Brickman continued. “Impoverished man came to my car. Now he had this look about him. He had strong-looking arms, a strong-looking back, a healthy looking face, no ticks, or lice, or scrapes, or bruises, not a single nasty scab.”
“Uh ...”
“Amy, can you let me finish?”
“Sure. I’ll just give you my notes after. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. You’re new. Anyway, he looked healthy is what I’m trying to say. So I asked myself, ‘Why is it that in a country such as this, in this great state of Florida, can’t a man as healthy and strong as this be working? Why can’t he put up that next great structure somewhere? Or uh, uh, work on a road? Or pick up trash from our streets and our parks and our beaches?’ There is no reason why a young man in this day and time shouldn’t be working and exerting his strength and efforts for the betterment of all. That’s why I have an idea, a plan that I will go over with my good friend, Governor Ron Mirestone. My plan involves the construction of several small communities all over the state. Communities like any other for people to live in. What people, do you ask? Why, the same people who will be performing the duties I just mentioned. These people will work and exert themselves for the good of society. And in exchange for this, we give them roofs, we clothe them. Each community will have a cafeteria providing healthy meals. Instead of begging and living on the streets, they’ll be working and living in our structures, doing what they can to become a great part of our society.”
Marcus proceeded to clap even though he was still focusing on the newspaper in his lap. Amy looked down, annoyed by Marcus’s clapping and also befuddled at the address. She struggled to mill over what was just said by the good mayor.
“That was good, Marsh,” Marcus said, glancing up from his paper. “Too bad Lincoln wasn’t shot a year or two sooner, huh?”
Brickman squinted at him. “Lincoln? What’s he got to do with this?” “I, uh, think what he’s trying to say is, uh,” Amy struggled to find mincing words. “So let me get this straight. These people, these workers, will be compensated for their labor with housing and food, right? Nothing else? You’re gonna propose this to Governor Mirestone?”
“Well, I said we’d clothe them too.” There was more silence as Brickman looked over at a smiling Marcus, again reading his paper but enjoying the moment.