Stuff Dreams Are Made Of Read Online Free PDF

I’d attended any organized or unorganized religious service. Living the way I did, I suppose it might be good for me. Of course, after what I’d heard about Cashdollar, I wasn’t sure he had the answers. In my case, I wasn’t sure there were any answers.

CHAPTER SIX
    The training session amounted to a royal chewing out from our new director of sales, Norbit Bronder. Honest to god, the guy’s name was Norbit. He looked like a Norbit. I don’t know where they get these guys, but they’re all pencil-pushing geeks who must think they are on the way up. Why else would anyone else take the job of director of sales in Carol City? I mean, Carol City is not exactly the city you want to be working in if you’re upwardly mobile. In fact, I would think our burg would be a real career roadblock. It’s an urban, blighted suburb of Miami, that tends to go further downhill every year. Cinder-block row houses, faded old stucco buildings that sit deserted on every street corner, empty malls, and a crushing sense of depression at every turn. That and our pathetic apartment complex. Rows of tiny stucco residences with crumbling facades and deteriorating interiors. Other that that, Carol City was okay.
    Norbit lit into the three of us who actually tried to make a living in the community.
    “You know your job depends on selling more securitysystems, but
my
job also depends on
your
selling more security systems.”
    Now
there
was a real reason for us to try harder. So Norbit could keep his job! I’d hate to be responsible for Norbit losing his exalted position.
    After the meeting I drove over to Esther’s, a great little local restaurant, and had some sausage gravy and cornbread. Not the most healthy meal going, but I felt I needed some comfort food. I looked around for Emily, a girl I’ve dated off and on since high school, but I knew she wouldn’t be there. She hadn’t talked to me in three months. I did run into Rick Mosely, an old buddy from high school who worked for the fire department.
    “How goes the sales job, Skip?”
    “Not exactly lighting any fires, Rick.”
    He frowned. Firemen don’t like jokes about their job. “I talked to James last week. Said you two were moonlighting with the revival meeting over at Oleta River Park.”
    “Yeah. Last night was the first shift. Interesting evening.”
    Rick took a long swallow of mud-brown coffee and shoveled some barbecued pork into his mouth. He chewed, looking at me thoughtfully. In a muffled voice he said, “You know, there are stories about this Cashdollar character.”
    “I heard some last night.”
    “Cashdollar. Somebody said that’s his real name.”
    I buttered the cornbread. The stuff was like nectar from the gods. Sweet, so sweet and it would melt in your mouth.
    “And he’s got these people believing that if they follow him, they’ll all be rich.”
    “After they make him rich?”
    Rick nodded. “He’s been at this game for a long time. Do you remember back, oh about —”
    “Three years ago?” I asked. “The senator from North Dakota?”
    He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “No. About ten years ago.”
    “What happened?”
    “He was holding a revival meeting, same place. And some young girl who worked for him ended up dead, right there on the grounds.”
    I almost choked on the cornbread. “That was Cashdollar?”
    “Sure was.”
    “Wow! I was there that night.”
    He laughed. “You?”
    “No, really, I was. My Uncle Buzz took me. It was sort of a guys weekend, and —”
    “You were really there?”
    “I was. I didn’t remember the minister’s name, but I was there. I met the girl. She came around with a collection plate.” I could picture her, smell the night itself, and I could see Buzz dropping the twenty in the plate and her big smile afterward.
    “Well, my friend, the story was that she was Cashdollar’s underage girlfriend.”
    “She was what?”
    “Cashdollar’s underage girlfriend. And he was married at the time.