One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1) by Sydney Bristow Page B

expecting miracles. How about
you?”
    “I’m just waiting for the price of gold to
go down, so I can buy some for my portfolio.”
    Sneering and giving Alexander a dubious
sideways glance, Brad said, “Gold is a sucker’s bet.”
    “Over the past decade, the stock market has
produced a goose egg for most people. In that time, gold is up over
300 percent.”
    “Because it was in the basement. The price
had nowhere to go but up.”
    “In the first decade of the 2010s, the U.S.,
China, Japan, and central banks around the world created money like
they fear their printing presses will break. And if Europe and the
U.S. don’t pay off their debt, we’re headed for some serious
inflation.”
    “That’s all speculation.”
    “No, that’s backed by historical fact.”
    “Nonsense.”
    “If you print money, you are reducing the
value of the currency in circulation. Unless the Fed recalls those
hundreds of billions of dollars, we’re going to see prices rise
across the board. China is buying fewer T-bills and buying gold
instead. So is India, Russia, Brazil. If you believe the crap your
company keeps shoveling to your clients, don’t say I didn’t warn
you. A few years from now—”
    Brad broke into a fit of laughter, but a
lopsided grin took the place of his confident smirk. “A few years
from now? Who knows what will happen a few years from now. A few
years from now, I’ll be married to Marisa.”
    Until now, Brad had always alluded to the
fact that Alexander would never find his way into Marisa’s heart.
Not confronting this fact only increased the potency of dancing
around the subject. But because Alexander had used evidence to
prove his point, which Brad interpreted as a direct threat to his
belief system, not to mention his career, he disregarded the
frivolous banter and scored a direct hit by drudging up Alexander’s
unrequited feelings for Marisa. Since a guy can always tell if
another man is attracted to the woman he’s seeing, he decided to
trample his hopes.
    “This is a discussion,” Alexander said, “But
what I stated are facts. And here’s another one: Marisa will never
marry you.”
    “Really,” Brad said, moving in closer.
“Why’s that? You going to steal her from me?” He stopped just
inches from Alexander, bearing down on him, nostrils flaring. “That
what you’re telling me?” The tattoos of the Iron Maiden mascot,
Eddie, flexed on both biceps. His ghastly skeletal smile widened,
as though excited at the prospect of causing Alexander serious
harm. Brad sized him up, smirking as though he needed only five
seconds with Alexander before claiming victory. “You think you’re
man enough?”
    The time for sarcasm had passed. Seeing
anger replace Brad’s usual smug expression triggered a warning
siren in Alexander’s brain. Staring up at a bigger, stronger
opponent, he didn’t blink, didn’t give the slightest indication
that he wanted anything less than to resort to fisticuffs. Of
course, he’d prefer to handle this situation like a gentleman. But
apparently, the balled up fists in his pockets didn’t agree with
that solution. After all, every impulse told him to comply with
Brad’s request and let violence end their dispute.
    Then the past rushed back to him: all the
damage; all the pain; all the blood he’d spilled, and all the
screams in the background because of his violent actions. But this
evidence served as mere precursors to the real torment Alexander
suffered from: constant self-doubt and countless nightmares,
resulting in endless indecision that affected every relationship
and every conversation for years after that pivotal moment. Even
now, two decades removed from that childhood fight, one where he
beat a kid unconscious, he nearly flinched from the memories. Then
another thought saved him from considering the past…
    If he gave in to Brad’s preferred method of
conflict resolution, how would Marisa react?
    Would she would rush over to Brad (after
all, he was her