Chapter 135: Financial Expert

[Chapter 135: Financial Expert]

A chilly breeze swept across the Mississippi River, stirring waves that pushed toward the Memphis riverfront highway.

The gas station sign had screws loose, clanking loudly in the wind.

Joe Bell felt cold, pulling his suit tighter as he anxiously awaited the car he had arranged to pick him up early.

His own old second-hand Ford had broken down shortly after he graduated and barely got used.

With a host of worries including rent and girlfriend, left him no time to care about quality of life; first, he needed to find a job to fill his stomach.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a burly guy not far off who looked even younger than himself. Joe felt a pang of envy.

The guy's clothes, shoes, and the watch on his wrist all screamed luxury and expense.

Fate was unfair!

The mood Joe had just gotten lifted now sank into frustration. He wondered how long it would take him to reach the level of the young man beside him.

...

Suddenly, Joe thought that Charlie looked somewhat familiar. After hesitating for a while, he walked over.

"Uh, excuse me, sir, I hope I'm not bothering you. Are you a movie company owner? I feel like I've seen you in some paper before," Joe said.

"Oh, yes, Corleone Studios, Charlie Corleone!" Charlie paused, looking down calmly at the somewhat handsome, shy guy in front of him.

"Yes, of course." Joe instantly got excited and awkward, "I've heard of you, I'm Joe Bell..."

He went on, telling Charlie about his own brief ascent, his admiration shining through.

Then, summoning courage and speaking clumsily, he introduced himself as a stockbroker with no conversational skills: "Sir, someone successful like you must have tax issues, right? I advise optimizing your asset structure through financial investments. If you need help, I'm your man. I studied math at Princeton and have a year's experience on Wall Street."

Charlie swallowed the last bite of his hot dog, half-smiling, "Your advice is about investing in penny stocks from boiler room businesses?"

Joe's face turned red, both embarrassed and ashamed!

Indeed, for a Princeton math grad to work at some boiler room brokerage was laughable.

Besides, he didn't expect Charlie to casually drop such professional terms.

Boiler rooms were companies using unfair, dishonest sales tactics through phone calls and paging, mostly located in the U.S. Southeast -- Memphis and Little Rock, Arkansas being hotspots.

Being half from Memphis, Charlie had definitely heard of them.

Such companies were often run by tech-savvy gangs -- plain fraud.

...

"Charlie, get in!" Uncle Lamont arrived, rolling down the window and calling out.

Charlie ignored the fanciful young man and prepared to leave.

Joe eagerly blocked Charlie's path; despite Charlie's cold expression, Joe pleaded earnestly, "Mr. Corleone, I'm not a con artist! The company I interviewed for trades OTC, a legitimate penny stock firm. But if I had a major client, I could join a real securities company. I'm confident about the future of internet stocks; I just need a chance!"

Charlie stopped trying to push him away and looked at him.

In that instant, Joe's heart pounded with nervousness. He knew he'd been reckless. He had seen pictures of Charlie holding a gun in tabloid papers.

Charlie expressionlessly said, "Netscape's IPO made so many people envious. You have three seconds to tempt me with another reason -- 3, 2..."

Joe had no time for joy or self-reassurance.

His brain raced through all he learned in college and that year of work.

"1..."

Finally, as Charlie's countdown ended, Joe flushed, sweat beading on his forehead. "Southeast Asia!"

Damn, was this guy a prodigy?

In that era, some economists in the U.S. could analyze Southeast Asia's opportunities, but a recent math grad with just a year's experience had how much data to analyze such a thing?

Charlie grew more interested but restrained himself, "What specifically? You have a new 10 seconds -- 10, 3..."

"Maybe Thailand? From 1985 to 1996, Thailand's economy grew over 9% annually -- the highest growth rate worldwide!" Joe's eyes sparkled, growing more certain as he spoke.

"Thailand notoriously ran frequent trade deficits: 5.7% in '93, 6.4% in '94, 8.4% in '95. The baht was pegged to the dollar, and the persistent deficit led to the baht's real value dropping constantly. As soon as there's an opportunity, shorting the baht would bring big profits!"

Charlie was stunned; Joe's jargon sounded like gibberish, but he caught two keywords: "baht" and "short."

This was exactly the start of the infamous Asian Financial Crisis!

Now, a young man had figured it out?

"Get in!" Charlie smiled, opened the back door, and got inside first.

Joe, flushed with excitement, slightly bumped his knee when getting in.

Uncle Lamont glanced at the rearview mirror, starting the car and pulling away.

...

"Mr. Corleone, thank you so much. I don't know what else to say. I... I'm at my lowest point in life. Thank you -- truly, sincerely!" Joe grasped his hands, his voice choked with emotion.

"Sorry, what investments are you planning? How much capital do you have? I'll quickly do some tax calculations. I'm not very familiar with the entertainment industry tax rules and may need time to study. I suggest, even though there are some good stock market opportunities, invest a small amount on short-term speculation, and use most funds to improve your asset structure."

Joe took a deep breath. He knew big shots didn't want to hear some poor kid's life story and shifted immediately to professional mode.

Charlie nodded slightly, more pleased with the new team member.

A competent and trustworthy financial expert was hard to find.

As Corleone Studios grew and shareholders increased, Charlie needed a professional to oversee mergers, stock integration, future IPOs, and asset optimization and fund management.

In his past life, Charlie's business wasn't at this level, but he knew what top companies required.

Right, he wasn't hiring Joe just to mess around with stocks and finance.

With the time to develop the business, wouldn't it be better?

Charlie was certain that, given his assets, social influence, network, prestige, and power, if he dared to make a quick 1 billion from finance, he'd end up in jail tomorrow.

America was no paradise; countless unexplained "suicides" occurred yearly across the regions.

Of course, if he could pull a few friends in to make a couple billion or truly invest in famous future internet companies, Charlie wouldn't miss out.

But discussing this now was premature.

Charlie stretched and turned his head, saying, "Joe, I don't intend to hire you as my stockbroker."

*****

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