The Millionaires by Brad Meltzer Read Free Book Online Page A

top associates, and even though you’ve single-handedly brought
     in over twelve million dollars’ worth of new accounts for Lapidus just by scouring the NYU alumni magazine, and even though
     almost every partner in the firm went to one of the four business schools you’re applying to, it’s still possible that you’ve
     been rejected two years in a row?”
    “That’s enough!”
    “Uh-oh, sore spot! You’ve already thought it yourself, haven’t you?”
    “Shut up, Charlie!”
    “I’m not saying Lapidus planned it from the start, but do you have any idea what a pain it is for him to hire someone new
     and train him to think exactly like he does? You gotta find the right kid… preferably a poor one with no connections…”
    “I said, shut up!”
    “… promise him a job that’ll keep him there for a few years so he can pay off his debt…”
    “Charlie, I swear to God…!”
    “… then keep stringing him along until the poor fool actually realizes he and his whole family are going nowhere…”
    “
Shut up!
” I yell, rushing forward. I’m in full rage. My hands go straight for the collar of his shirt.
    Always the better athlete, Charlie ducks under my grasp and races back toward the eat-in kitchen. On the table, he spots a
     B-school catalogue from Columbia and a file folder with the word “Applications” on it.
    “Are these…?”
    “Don’t touch them!”
    That’s all it takes. He goes straight for the file. But just as he flips it open, a letter-sized blue-and-white envelope falls
     to the floor. There’s a signature across the back, right where it’s sealed. Henry Lapidus.
    The signature on the envelope is required by all four schools—to make sure I don’t open it. Indeed, the typed pages inside
     are the most important part of any business school application—the boss’s recommendation.
    “Okay, who wants to play detective?” Charlie sings, waving the envelope over his head so it scrapes the basement’s low ceiling.
    “Give it back!” I demand.
    “Oh, c’mon, Oliver, it’s been four years already—if Lapidus is locking you in the dungeon, at least this way, you get the
     truth.”
    “I already know the truth!” I yell, lunging forward and reaching out for the envelope. Once again, he ducks and spins under
     the attack.
    Back by the bed, Charlie’s no longer dangling it in front of me. For once, he’s serious. “You know something’s screwy, Oliver—I
     can see it in your eyes. This guy took four years of your life. Four years in shackles on the promise of a later payoff. If
     he’s bashing you in the letter—forget about the fact that all the B-schools keep it on file—he’s ruined the whole plan. Your
     way out—how to pay mom’s debts—everything you were counting on. And even if you think you can start over, do you know how
     hard it is to move to a new job without a recommendation? Not exactly the ideal situation for covering the hospital bills
     and mom’s mortgage payments, now is it? So why don’t we just tear this bad boy open and—”
    “
Let go of it!
” I explode. I plow straight at him, ready for the sidestep. But instead of ducking under, he hops backwards onto my bed and
     bounces like a seven-year-old. “Laaaaadies aaaaaaaaaand geeeeentlemen, the heavyweight champion of the wooooooorld!” He sings
     the last part, then imitates a crowd cheering wildly. When we were little, this is where I’d dive at his feet. Sometimes I’d
     catch him, sometimes I’d miss—but eventually, the four-year age difference would catch up with him.
    “Get off my bed!” I shout. “You’ll pop one of the springs!”
    Right there, Charlie stops. He’s still on the bed, but he’s done jumping. “I love you when I say this, Oliver—but that last
     statement—that’s exactly the problem.”
    He steps to the edge of the mattress, and in one smooth move, drops himself on his butt, bounces off the bed, and springboards
     to his feet. No matter how risky, no