This Little Piggy
Bizarre Wall Street Scheme Causes Unintended Consequences to a Man and His Family
M.G. Crisci
Inspired by Real Events
Copyright © 2020 M.G. Crisci
1-360686021
All rights reserved,
Including the right of reproduction
In whole or in part in any form.
Cover Art: M.G. Crisci
Cover Design: Good World Media
Edited by Holly Scudero
Published by Orca Publishing Company USA
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-3259-5 (Amazon KDP)
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-3064-5 (hardcover)
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-3063-8 (paperback)
Fourth Edition

Also by M.G. Crisci
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Call Sign, White Lily
Donny and Vladdy
Indiscretion
Mary Jackson Peale
Only in New York
Papa Cado
Papa Cado’s Book of Wisdom
Project Zebra
Salad Oil King
Save the Last Dance
She Said. He Said.
This Little Piggy
Learn more at
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Facebook.com/worldofmgcrisci
Money does strange things to people.
The desire to become filthy rich
does even stranger things to people.
Chapter 1
Johnny and Sydney
LONG BEACH, LONG ISLAND, NY.
Taking a journey to an unknown destination can be a trying experience.
Driving forty-five miles in a heavy downpour from Greenwich, Connecticut, to Long Beach was not Sandra’s idea of a dream date.
“If I didn't love you so much, I'd make Fatal Attraction look like a fairytale,” said Sandra. “You're telling me that space-cadet, Johnny Katz, is married to a woman named Sydney? Why would someone name a daughter Sydney?”
Victor shrugged. “Ask her.”
"What's she like?” Victor shrugged again. “Tell me we're going to a birthday party with a $250 bottle of wine, and you've never even met the lady.”
Johnny and Victor Martini were strange bedfellows. When Victor was promoted to account supervisor at stodgy Arthur and James (A&J) Advertising, he needed an account executive to replace himself. After interviewing the available internal candidates, he decided he needed someone who was a more creative marketer, someone who could help him drive his client's business, not just a yes-man who sucked up. That was not Victor's style. Johnny Katz made his first interview a memorable feast — figuratively and literally. After exchanging pleasantries, Johnny pulled Victor's favorite sandwich out of his attaché case — lean pastrami and imported Swiss cheese on German pumpernickel, neatly wrapped in aluminum foil. Thirty minutes later, Johnny's self-effacing sense of humor and a few out-of-the-box business building examples made the job his.
“Babe, I know you think Johnny a bit off there, but he's good people,” said Victor.
Sandra glared. “A bit! Are we talking about the same person? The guy who works when he wants, pops joints while he’s meditating, and God knows what else?”
“Trust me. I know what I'm doing.”
~
As their car hydroplaned down the Cross-County Parkway in the heavy rain, a ping abruptly ended the conversation. The wiper motor died, and windshield wiper blades laid motionless. “Now what,” cried Sandra.
Victor smiled, trying to make the best of an already tense situation. “Relax, Babe. We're not far from Johnny's. We’ll switch to manual mode.”
“I can’t wait to hear this one,” replied Sandra skeptically.
“I’ll attach my tie to the driver’s side blade, and your scarf to the passenger side. We’ll open the front windows enough so you can pull your wiper blade to the right and can pull mine to the left. Once we get to Johnny’s, I'll call the AAA.”
The plan almost worked. The heavy rain poured through the slite in the window., soaking the couple to the bone.
~
Lido Shores was an upscale maze of tinted glass towers sitting right on the beach at the eastern end of Long Beach. The door to the Katz apartment opened. A man with thick, bushy black eyebrows, wearing a colorful, floor-length kaftan and a trippy, drug-induced smile said, “What the hell happened to you, my man?”
“Long story.”
“Sydney, come here. You've got guests.”
A tall, slender woman with long black hair to her waist stumbled to the doorway. She, too, wore a kaftan. Her eyelids were heavy from the weight of substance abuse. “I bet this is boss Victor and his lovely wife. Forgive me, but what was your name? No matter, welcome to Chez Katz. Our home is your home.”
Sandra couldn't believe her eyes. In front of her was a large room covered with floor-to-ceiling printed fabric dotted with Persian figures and ancient allegories. The ceiling was tented with fabric and dotted with hammered tin candelas, the air thick with the smell of hashish and marijuana. Among the mellow bodies littered here and there were bongs on stands and a table with little clay pipes. Sandra wanted to leave then and there. An equally horrified Victor tugged Sandra's arm. “Remember, we need a little time. The AAA.”
Sandra nodded and handed the wine to Sydney. "Happy birthday.”
Sydney began to giggle. “Johnny, isn't this sweet? Our first beverage
