Author's note:
I’ve always loved the Dickens’ classic about Scrooge and his scratchy quill pen.
But what if Scrooge worked on Wall Street and used a smart phone instead?
Sounds good, I thought, and set my fingers to tapping on my keyboard. I knew the story by heart, even the dialogue with Scrooge complaining about giving his clerk the day off on Christmas and sending the poor to workhouses.
But we live in a techie world with faxes, GPS, and Twitter. I had to update the story. And I wanted my Scrooge to be a sexy hunk. So I let my imagination run wild...and Ebenezor Scrooge became bad boy Wall Street trader, Nick Radnor.
“Nick had a cast iron stomach and tight abs. He was tall, handsome and could wheel and deal with the best of them. Talk on his cell to his bankers with one hand and find his way under the elastic band on his secretary’s black silk panties with the other.”
In the following excerpt, it's Christmas Eve. Nick is still grieving over the sudden death of his business partner, Charlie, last Christmas Eve.
When Charlie’s ghost shows up after a night of wild drinking and sex, we’re off and running. Charlie warns him that three ghosts will make their appearance, just like in the classic story. Three sexy babes who will take Nick on a whirlwind tour of his past, present, and future with each episode tied to his beautiful fiancée, Monique.
Monique is the anchor in my story. She never stops believing in her man, no matter what. It is through her eyes that we fall in love with Nick, all the while hoping that he wakes up before it’s too late and he loses everything.
Including her.
------------
Excerpt from "A Naughty Christmas Carol:"
“Nick…Nick.”
“Go back to your bottle, Pops,” Nick groaned. His head hurt like hell. Like he’d been punched in the face.
“Wake up, Nick, it’s me.”
“For chrissakes, leave me alone.”
Ring…ring…ring. Was that his cell phone ringing? No, it sounded like bells. Loud brass bells signaling the opening and closing of trading each day.
Doors banging. Opening then closing.
A freezing wind howled, its icy fingers sweeping over him. Scraping his skin raw.
“It’s Charlie, Nick.”
Charlie? His old partner?
A voice that sounded like Charlie’s scratched at the fuzzy part of his brain, taunting him. Then blowing his cold, chilly breath in his ear, sending shivers through him.
The back of his neck prickled. A weird sensation that he wasn’t dreaming made him suddenly alert. Nick touched his cheeks. Clammy.
Nerves. He’d been working too hard.
“Go away, Charlie,” he insisted. “You’re dead.”
A loud moan. “Open your eyes, Nick, and see for yourself.”
Nick clawed at the sheet, clutching the silk. What a f--ing nightmare this was. His eyes hurt like hell, like someone was trying to force his eyelids open with toothpicks.
He gave in to the torment and opened his eyes.
Holy shit, it was Charlie.
Standing at the foot of the bed. Stooped over, hunch-backed.
His pin-striped suit hanging from his frail body, ragged and torn. His eyes bulging. He’d lost more hair since the last time Nick saw him.
Here. In this room. Deader than a doornail. Charlie had left this earth with two naked girls hovering over him. Now he wore a look of utter despair, his skin tinged a deep midnight blue, his eyes yellowed and puffy. His cheeks gaunt and his skin sagging.
He looked like the monster in a cheesy horror flick.
Nick sat up, edged closer to him. And what was he carrying?
Chains.
Heavy, iron chains forged with thick rusty rings. Wound so tight around his wrists, they forced him to hunch over. Leg shackles encircled his ankles, making him move with great effort and drag the heavy irons behind him.
“What the hell are you doing here, Charlie?” Nick asked, disbelieving.
“I came here to warn you, Nick,” Charlie said, coughing. “No bullshit, just straight talk.”
“You’re drunk.”
Nick grimaced. This guy was a joke. A sick joke. Mamie hired some desperate actor to impersonate Charlie to get back at him for making her open up on Christmas Eve.
“You’ve got to believe me, Nick.”
“Like hell I do. Whatever Mamie’s paying you, I’ll double it.” Nick held his head in his hands. “Get out!”
“But it’s me…Charlie.”
“More like a piece of uncooked steak lodged in my gut. Now leave me alone.”
“Don’t be a fool, Nick. There’s no hope for me, but you still have a chance.”
“For what? More of Mamie’s jokes?” Nick smirked. “What’s next? Dancing reindeer?”
“Don’t you know your old pal Charlie?” he pleaded, his voice deep and raspy.
“No.”
“I’ll prove it to you, Nick. You remember those junk bonds we dumped on Stu Henry? He lost a bundle and tried to shoot himself but missed.”
Nick’s brain snapped. He looked up slowly. No one knew about the Henry deal except Charlie and him.
Could it be--
“He spent a year in the hospital,” Charlie continued, “but he had no health insurance. He pleaded for help and you gave him a loan to pay the bills at twenty percent interest.”
Nick sat motionless, the grogginess in his mind slowly lifting. If it was Charlie, then he must be a--
“Ghost.”
Charlie smiled. “In the flesh, Nick. So to speak.”
“I can’t believe it’s you, Charlie.” Nick choked back his emotions. His heart pounded. How he’d missed seeing his old friend. He wanted to grab him, hug him, but the stench and decay permeating around Charlie made him want to puke.
“Jeez, Charlie, you smell like a garbage can filled with dead cats.”
“You have no idea how degrading it is to walk the earth in the same stinking suit day after day, night after night,” Charlie moaned, rattling his chains so loud Nick put his hands over his ears.. “Never stopping for a stiff drink or a good f--k.”
Nick understood. Charlie considered himself a dapper dresser and a ladies’ man. Hanging around in the same old suit must be killing him.
Strike that. He was already dead.
“Okay, so I’m buying your story, Charlie,” Nick admitted. “You’re a ghost. Man, I can’t stand seeing you wrapped up in chains. What gives?”
“It’s my destiny, pal. No one did it but me.”
“How?”
“Every time I opened another offshore account or closed a factory and laid off the workers, I made this chain. Bigger, longer.” Charlie rattled his chains again, making Nick wince.
“So?” Nick said. “Everybody on the street does business like that.”
“Don’t look at me with shit-kicking look on your face, Nick,” Charlie said, angry. “You’ve got a chain, too. Longer than mine.”
“Me?” Nick shook his head, snorted, then waved him away. “You’re crazy. I always play by the rules.”
“Your rules, Nick. You don’t care who you hurt as long as you make easy money.”
“Cut the crap, Charlie. You were always a good trader, well-liked and respected.” Nick shoved his hand through his hair wet with sweat. This whole conversation was freakin’ crazy. “You taught me everything I know.”
Charlie bellowed so loud the bed shook and the brass bells went off again. Nick put his fingers in his ears again. His behavior was irrational, even for Charlie.
“I let you down, Nick,” Charlie admitted. “And my employees, too. I should have paid them better wages instead of spending dough on vintage wines and dumb blondes, seen to it that everyone had health care. Now it’s too late.” He moaned again. “I’m shit out of luck. My thousand dollar hangovers are over. Finito. I’m warning you, Nick, you’ve got to get out of this racket.”
“Why should I?” Nick wanted to know. “I’ve got more money than I can ever spend, a beautiful fiancée, a secretary who gives a great blow job and Mamie’s girls to keep me happy.”
Charlie let out a deep breath. “I’ve been watching you apply the whip to the girl’s butts, Nick, and it ain’t pretty.”
“Watching me?”
Was that legal?
“You strike hard, Nick. Too hard. You’ve got a lot of anger in you. You’re losing touch with reality. No telling when you’ll explode and someone gets hurt.”
Nick trembled. It was true. Years of living rich, playing hard and spinning every deal into a big profit were taking him to the edge. He was afraid someone younger, someone smarter would take it away from him.
Too often Nick found himself applying the whip to the girls’ buttocks with a vengeance. It scared him, but he couldn’t stop.
“You’re out of your gourd, Charlie,” Nick said, lighting up a cigarette. He’d quit last week but Mamie always stocked the nightstand with a Bible and cigarettes. “I’m in complete control of my life and I don’t need you to lecture me--”
Again the howling sent shivers through him. Doors banging. And those horrible moans. Nick started pacing up and down, blowing out cigarette smoke. The misty gray plumes went right through Charlie. Jeez.
But it was his face wrenched with pain that saddened Nick the most. His eyes sparked like burning embers and patches of dead skin curled up on his cheeks. His capped teeth were stained a charcoal gray.
Seeing him like this had a bigger effect on him than he wanted to admit. He was conscious of a strange feeling of remorse.
“You always were like a father to me, Charlie.” Nick put out the cigarette. “Okay, I’ll listen. What’s your game?”
“I came here tonight to warn you that you have a chance to redeem yourself.”
Nick smirked. “No one on Wall Street quits. You get fired, you die, but you don’t quit.”
Charlie ignored his remark. “You will be visited by three female ghosts on this Christmas Eve.”
“You’re kidding?”
“The first will come at midnight with the other two following on the next hour then the next,” he continued. “You must listen to them.”
Nick let out a long breath. “What if I don’t?”
“There you are doomed to end up like me. Shackled and destined to walk the earth, never stopping.”
The threat was implicit, but Nick didn’t take it seriously. A gleam came into his eye. “Can I have all three at once?” he joked. “I can satisfy three women, I mean ghosts, in one night.”
“Keep it in your pants, Nick,” Charlie warned. “Their magic is very powerful, but only if you listen to them.”
“Why should I quit the street? I love what I do.” Nick didn’t try to keep the sharp edge out of his voice. He didn’t like Charlie sticking his nose into his business. “Where else can I make this kind of money?”
“What about the people who work for you?” Charlie insisted. The fire in his eyes burned so red Nick swore smoke came out of his ears. “Losing their homes because they can’t pay their mortgages.”
Nick scoffed. “It’s not my fault they made a bad investment.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Nick,” said Charlie. “So many families have no food, no shelter. Have you no holiday spirit?”
Nick smirked. “Christmas is for wimps.”
The picture of a shiny, new bike flashed into his mind. Red with racing stripes. He stopped smiling.
“Forget the bike, boy,” his father’s words echoed in his mind. “Coal is your future…coal… coal…coal.”
Nick leaned forward, swallowing hard. Every year was the same. He’d never gotten over it. His stomach lurched, his gut tightened. He felt like crap.
Charlie wasn’t finished.
He opened up the tall bay window covered with blackout drapes. “Look, Nick, and see what happened to your Wall Street brothers who didn’t heed the warning.”
Nick moaned in horror as he saw old, decrepit phantoms of Wall Street bankers and traders wandering hopelessly through the night, their wrists and ankles shackled, their cell phones ringing without stopping.
“F--kin’ A.”
The scene revolted him.
He turned away, burying his head in his hands and refusing to look. “Go away, Charlie, go away!”
“Don’t forget, Nick,” Charlie said. “Three ghosts will visit you. The first will come at midnight …midnight,” echoed his voice echoed over and over until the moaning and chain rattling faded and all Nick heard was his own hard breathing.
Then another voice said in his ear, “Wake up, Mr. Radnor--”
“Go away, Charlie.”
“It’s Pops. I’ve got a taxi waiting for you.”
Nick jumped awaked. “What the hell--” His knees felt wobbly, his legs shaky. A raging need to know if he was crazy pushed him forward. “Did you see anyone go in and out of here, Pops?”
“No one, sir.”
“Are you sure?” He had to know if he was losing his mind.
“Yes, Mr. Radnor.”
Nick moaned. Then it was true. He had seen Charlie’s ghost.
Christ.
He climbed into the waiting cab, the backseat reeking of urine, certain he was going to die.
He threw up instead.
-----------------
Will Nick listen to the three Ghosts before it's too late and he loses everything?
Including the woman he loves...
Find out in "A Naughty Christmas Carol" available as an e-Book on Amazon, B&N, Kobo, iTunes, Sony, Diesel, ARe and Smashwords.