Twenty 77

Amanda Armstrong

Description

When a complete stranger contacts author Amanda Armstrong to write his biography, she is initially wary but curious. Her very first meeting with him sparks a connection though and Amanda becomes enthralled and excited at the opportunity to tell his amazing story. It's a case of be careful what you wish for though, as, little does Amanda know she has unwittingly just accepted a ride on a rollercoaster of emotion and intrigue. A journey that will both touch and horrify her as she gets a brief glimpse into the dark secret of the year 2077. As Amanda faces the challenges of writing for this very busy and private man, she begins to wonder if she will ever truly know who he is or the secret he holds so close. This is a true story within a story that will leave you both open-mouthed and open-minded...

Informations

• Publié par: Wordzworth Publishing
• Date de parution: 22 février 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783240548
• Langue: English

Extrait

Copyright © 2017 by Amanda Armstrong
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, without permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-78324-052-4 (paperback) ISBN: 978-1-78324-053-1 (hardback) ISBN: 978-1-78324-054-8 (ebook)
Published by Wordzworth www.wordzworth.com
“Everyone can close their eyes and listen to the sounds in their sanctuary; for some, it’s a moment crushed by the distraction of pain and suffering. Others dare open them to the operant horror of their life, and for the few more fortunate, they open their eyes to their dreams. Let’s not forget those that can only dream…”
–THE SECRET ENTREPRENEUR–
Contents Authors Note Prologue Chapter 1 American Pie Chapter 2 There’s Something about You Chapter 3 Bordering on Broke Chapter 4 Read The Peter Principle Chapter 5 That’s Where Mary Comes In Chapter 6 It’s All about Your Mindset Chapter 7 Never Trust Anyone Chapter 8 Keep Your Eye on the Ball Chapter 9 I Think You’re Going to like This Chapter 10 Forget the Flashy Title, Is This Progress? Chapter 11 I’ll Never Be Good Enough in Your Eyes Chapter 12 Do what You Hate to Get what You Love Chapter 13 This Was My Dream Chapter 14 We’ve Got Competition! Chapter 15 This Is the Life Chapter 16 The Redcoats Are Coming Chapter 17 That over-Rated Term; Work Hard, Play Hard Chapter 18 Never Stop Believing in Yourself Chapter 19 “Seventy Mill,” I Said without Hesitancy Chapter 20 I’m in a Terrible State! Chapter 21 Well He Took His Eye off the Ball, Didn’t He? Chapter 22 There’s a Chemistry Clock between People Chapter 23 They Were Baying for My Blood Chapter 24 Things Were about to Get a Whole Lot Worse Chapter 25 You Could Never Let Your Baby Go Chapter 26 What Recession? Chapter 27 It Was Game on for This Entrepreneur Chapter 28 I’m Not Disappointed in My Judgement Chapter 29 What’s the Worst that Can Happen? Chapter 30 Let’s Do This Epilogue A Word to the Wise – by Stan
Authors Note
2015

There’s a saying; when opportunity knocks, open the door.
I’ve been writing fiction for most of my life and in the last five years my books have been published, with a good degree of success, as I promote myself and my belief in my creative writing abilities. Occasionally, I’ll write a short story and post it on my website, in the hope that somebody may just take a look and enjoy my words.
Well, it seems one day a certain somebody did…
In March 2015, I was contacted via my website by Ben Taylor; a retired entrepreneur who is very well known in his industry.
Now, there are moments in life when you meet somebody, through chance or fate, who has a story to tell. I don’t know what drew me to this man but once I began to learn more about his story, the more excited I was to be the one to write it.
We initially spoke on the phone and, at first, he wouldn’t give anything away, it felt almost as though I was being given an intense interview.
“I want to give my story to an unknown yet talented writer,” he told me, “somebody I can trust.” I swallowed nervously and nodded. I was certainly unknown, and definitely trustworthy. Was I talented enough though? Could I pull this off? This wasn’t something I’d ever done nor even considered until now.
“I’ve read some of your work,” he continued, “and I love the simplicity of your writing and your humour.
He paused as if weighing up his decision to offer me this opportunity. “Do you believe things happen for a reason?” he asked.
My reply was simple. “Yes, I do.”
He told me his real name and was adamant when he explained. “I must retain my own and my family’s privacy,” he said, “but it’s important you tell my true story. I would like the title to be ‘Twenty 77’. It reflects a date that harbours a secret; a secret I haven’t yet shared with anyone.”
“It may also help people understand the life of an entrepreneur where I own up to my own fears, insecurities, and of course, failings. It might even help future entrepreneurs. That would make me proud.”
He waited as I considered his words, then asked, “Well, Mandy, would you like to take this on?”
I knew I had to be decisive here, this could be my destiny staring me in the face after all.
“Yes,” I coolly replied. “Your story is truly inspiring. Perhaps I could dramatize it with my fictional writing skills. Kind of based on your true story, if you like?”
I held my breath, waiting whilst he contemplated my counter proposal.
“Yes,” he finally spoke. “I like that idea. So, are you interested?”
Interested, I thought to myself, I can’t wait to get started!
Whilst this is based on a true story, some names have been changed to protect identities and preserve privacy.
This book is unique in that I am also sharing my experiences as we journey through this project together. It is the story of Ben’s incredible business career and an insight into what made him the man he is today, but it is in my own words and with a touch of my fiction.
It is also my story; my story of when opportunity knocked, and I opened the door…
Prologue
That would be the Stan factor

We first met in the Little Red Café which was to become our regular meeting place. It was quiet, tucked away in a little village beside a lake. There wasn’t much passing trade during our morning meetings and usually only Doris, the sixty-something year old owner, was ever witness to them.
Armed with my notebook and with legs like jelly, I approached the café. I was early, deliberately so; I wanted to get a coffee and gather myself before he arrived.
I sat there for maybe ten minutes or so, my fingers nervously pushing spilt sugar remnants around the table, until I saw a man enter. He looked younger than his sixty-four years, slim and well dressed with a confident air about him.
“Morning, table for one?” Doris called out to him as she busied herself with the sandwiches she was preparing.
I stood up and cleared my throat, “No, it’s ok,” I smiled at him, for I knew it was him, “he’s with me.”
We shook hands and sat down opposite each other, making small talk until Doris brought his coffee over.
“So, Mandy,” Ben looked at me thoughtfully as we got down to business. “I’ve created a website that counts down to the year 2077; the title of the potential book. Here.” He turned his iPad towards me and I gazed in astonishment at the very professional website for a book that hadn’t even been written yet, with mystical music and a countdown to 2077 set against a backdrop of a universe.
“So, what is it that’s so special about the year 2077?” I asked, intrigued.
Ben’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes but something else did. It was almost a flicker of fear which left as quickly as it had arrived.
“We’ll come back to that.” He sharply replied, and, having only just met him, I decided to let it go.
I sipped my coffee, opened my notebook, and grinned.
“So, tell me, Ben, how did it all begin?”
“Ah,” he leaned back, a smile on his face as he clearly remembered fondly, “that would be the Stan factor…”
1974
“Mr Lenz will see you now, come with me,” the pretty young girl smirked as she turned her lusty body and flicked her long brown hair down her back. She led me down a narrow, dingy corridor to the foot of a slightly echoic stairwell and ascended the stairs with me in pursuit. I was mesmerised by the graceful movement of her hips and wishing this wasn’t a professional situation. I wanted to open a conversation, but just at that moment we reached the top of the stairs and she raised her arm to knock on the door. She hesitated, her hand on the door handle as she glanced back at me with a beautiful smile. Hopeful, I smiled back and cleared my throat, about to speak…
“Good luck, you’ll need it”, she raised her eyebrows with that smirk back on her lovely face again, and knocked. A gruff voice signalled permission to enter and she pushed open the door, ushering me in.
“Here we are,” said the girl, “Mr Lenz, this is Ben.”
The room was so heavily laden with smoke, it was nauseating. I blinked, trying to focus through the grey haze, holding in the cough that threatened to betray my composure.
Eventually my sight settled on Mr Lenz.
A well-built man in his early fifties, he sat behind a desk that was strewn with paperwork and an assortment of dirty coffee cups, as well as an ashtray that was overflowing with butts.
He looked me up and down as I stood nervously before him, not taking his eyes from me, expertly dragging on his cigarette.
It seemed an age before he eventually dropped his cigarette onto the ashtray and pushed his chair back to stand and shake my hand firmly.
“Hmm,” he murmured, “take a seat, Ben.” I hesitantly sat down.
This was my first real interview; my first job back in 1968 when I was sixteen years old was set up by my mum. She cleaned for somebody who owned a structural engineering company that built steel frames.
That job was as a print room boy in a drawing office and I earned £ 5 per week.
I worked hard and after a few months surprised my mum when I arrived home to tell her that I’d asked my boss for a draughtsman role and a pay rise.
Sadly, though Mum was surprised, she was not impressed by my boldness; she thought I should be grateful for the job I’d been given.
Within months, though, I was demonstrating my natural ability to draw and the company sent me to college where for one day and two evenings a week I studied structural engineering and architecture.
Now here I was at what was to be my first and last interview, with my distinction in architecture and construction being all that shone on my resume.
Mr Lenz settled back in his chair and I winced as he took another long drag on his cigarette before glancing down and flicking onto the next page. Gazing at my CV in front of this man, I noticed the name plate on his messy desk: STAN LENZ.
For some reason the name Stan resonated with me and I had no idea why it suddenly felt familiar.
Shrugging it off I concentrated on my interview, hating the awkward silence tha