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Daily Drama (In American TV Shows)

In his first life, the protagonist, died without having fulfilled his dream of becoming a doctor, promises himself to achieve it in the next opportunity. Unbeknownst to him, this actually happens. Now surprisingly he is in Texas, who is this mysterious woman and why is she calling me PJ. Who is PJ? Mashup from the following tv series (Obviously I am not the owner, credits to their respective creators/writers): Good Luck Charlie, Young Sheldon, House, Malcolm in the Middle, The Good Doctor, Grey's Anatomy, Chicago Med, Modern Family, Suits. More series and movies may be added throughout the course of the story. I change the synopsis if you entered the story for that reason, write it in a comment.

Maximus_Quill · TV
Not enough ratings
63 Chs

Chapter 34

The first one to ask questions was Bob, obviously interested in investments and their implications. Surprisingly, Warren Lynch promptly answered every technical question from Bob.

"Investing long-term in solid companies allows you to take advantage of the steady market growth," Mr. Lynch explained excitedly while showing Bob a chart. Judging by Bob's intrigued expression, it was clear he couldn't grasp the information.

After answering Bob's question, Mr. Lynch fell silent. With a smile, he read one of his charts. A moment later, Lynch, losing his smile, started shuffling through papers on his desk with growing anxiety, searching for something amid the disorder.

The eccentric man's actions heightened Bob's existing concern. Glancing at me with a worried look, Bob silently nodded toward the office door.

Understanding Bob's concern, I nodded in defeat. My plans involved starting to invest at this moment in my life. It was a pity that the first person we encountered was someone as eccentric as Warren Lynch. This would only delay all my opportunities.

Looking at Mr. Lynch, who seemed to have found whatever he had been searching for among his papers, I decided I had nothing to lose by asking.

"Mr. Lynch, if you had an initial capital of a hundred thousand dollars, where would you invest it?" I asked, testing the man.

Upon hearing his name, Mr. Lynch lifted his head from his desk. "Well, young man, that depends a lot on how willing I am to risk my money," he cheerfully said. "A hundred thousand dollars may sound like a lot, but it really isn't. So, I'll assume I don't want to risk that capital," he continued while quickly grabbing a piece of paper from his desk.

"If I think of a safe long-term investment, I might consider real estate, usually a moderately priced residential property. Taking into account property taxes and transfer taxes in the state of Texas, possibly, and being generous, I could buy two properties that could double or triple their value in the coming decades," he explained while writing on the paper without pausing.

"Now, if we want to take a bit more risk for better gains, we could invest the capital in the stock market, looking for a company with a solid financial history to ensure that, despite being somewhat riskier than buying and selling real estate, it is relatively safe," he continued while speaking and scribbling on the paper at a fast pace.

"Then we have the riskiest of all, short selling," he said, pausing slightly in his scribbling. "With a hundred thousand dollars, this option might not be the best to take. I would wait for my capital to grow before delving into short selling," he concluded, handing over the paper he had been working on in the last few seconds with a small smile.

Bob took the paper, frowned at it for a few seconds, then handed it to me, shrugging, apparently not understanding Mr. Lynch's scribbles.

The paper contained many calculations that I could recognize as probability calculations, along with a variety of charts divided into three sections. It wasn't really complicated to understand that the subdivisions referred to short, medium, and long-term, as well as the risk of each option.

"If I wanted to invest in the stock market, which companies would you recommend?" I asked the smiling man again, making him extend his smile even further as he quickly stood up.

"That's a great question. Many would recommend 'safe' investments, trusting in the overall economy of the country, oil, metals, government bonds," he said while shuffling through a stack of papers on one of his furniture pieces. "And yes, they are certainly investments with a great potential for growth," he continued, now carrying another stack of papers to his desk. "But I lean more towards betting on the future," he said, leaving the documents on his desk.

"Technology?" I asked, feeling more confident as I watched the man smile broadly.

"Exactly, my teenage friend," the man affirmed excitedly. "There has never been such a boom in an economic sector like technology before – communications, transportation, medicine, science, many more things that I'm sure we haven't seen anything of yet," he commented with a growing ecstatic smile. "Personally, I've invested a significant portion of my own income in various technology companies," he said, ignoring Bob and handing me document after document compiling numbers and stock prices of different companies. Names like IBM, Intel, Sun Microsystems appeared prominently on each document until one caught my attention.

"What do you think of this company, Microsoft?" I said, setting aside one of the documents.

"You have a good eye," the man nodded vigorously. If possible, he widened his smile even more. "Since its IPO in nineteen eighty-seven until this year, its annual stock price has grown by two hundred percent," surprisingly, without needing to check any notes, he said with great excitement.

"Although Microsoft is definitely a company worth investing in, if I only had an initial capital of a hundred thousand dollars, I would allocate no more than twenty percent for those shares. The rest I would divide among these others," much more serious than Bob and I had seen him before, he pushed two documents into my hands.

Cisco Systems and Oracle read at the top of the pages.

I had never heard of them.

Before I could ask, Mr. Lynch began to explain, "it went public a few months ago, Cisco Systems is a technology company that focuses on the development of networking equipment and technologies. Unlike Microsoft, which focuses on operating system development, Cisco Systems is working on what seems to be the future – machine-to-machine communication," cryptically, the man declared. "Imagine talking to someone in another country within minutes," he explained dreamily, causing Bob to involuntarily snort.

"What they're working on is the creation of a network system. It may seem futuristic, but it's real," feeling the need to speak again, the man explained to Bob.

Looking at one of the papers in my hand, I didn't know how to react. If what Mr. Lynch said was true, Cisco Systems was possibly a great option to invest in.

"Oracle, on the other hand, is focused on developing database management systems. For several months, I've been trying to convince the bank to purchase this product because, as I mentioned before, I always like to bet on the future," smiling, the man leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands.

Seeing the multitude of papers in his office, I was sure why the man insisted on the bank getting a database manager.

Previously unsure due to his eccentric behavior, with the last data he claimed, for someone like Bob, it might seem like science fiction, but for me, it was an obvious choice – Warren Lynch knew what he was talking about.

Excited about what I could achieve with someone like Lynch managing my money, I was about to accept and hire him as my stockbroker until I remembered Bob by my side.

"Can we discuss it for a moment?" I silently asked Mr. Lynch, requesting that he give Bob and me space to talk.

Understanding the silent request, the man got up from his chair, "I think I forgot something; I'll be back in a moment," uncomfortably, he left his own office, stumbling and almost falling with a bunch of papers in his path.

"What is there to discuss, PJ? The man is clearly insane," immediately as Mr. Lynch left his office, Bob

, shaking his head, stood up.

"His attitude may be a bit eccentric," I said, trying to stop Bob. "Well, quite eccentric," I corrected myself, seeing the look of disbelief on Bob's face, "but I think he knows what he's talking about," I quickly continued.

"I don't know, PJ," Bob was saying, "no, Dad, listen to me. Right now, what he says exists, but it's still relatively small, connecting only a few computers to each other. I'm completely sure that in a few years, there will be a very large network of connections all over the world. If what he says is true and these companies are preparing for this, we have to take advantage of it," I interrupted.

"I don't think it's safe, PJ. We need to think about it and—" still uncertain, Bob was saying, "I have a feeling," I interrupted seriously, hoping that it would be reason enough to convince him.

Seeing how Bob still wasn't entirely convinced, "Dad, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I know it's not a great reasoning, but it's the same feeling I had with the bet," I said calmly, "if we don't do this, I'm sure we'll regret it in the future," I quickly continued, preventing my statement from bothering him.

Deep in thought, Bob nodded. "Okay," he finally said after releasing a sigh, making me clench my fists in celebration. "But," he continued immediately, interrupting my small celebration, "I have conditions."

Nodding quickly, I nervously said, "Yes, whatever."

"Your grades will stay perfect, enough to get one of those incredible scholarships at a medical school. You will also finish a degree. If you lose interest in medicine, then in something else," the man said seriously.

"It would be hypocritical of me to deny you this. This money didn't exist, although the way you acquired it won't happen again; it still belongs to you, and you deserve to do with it as you please," he admitted, defeated. "At least I'm relieved that you use it thinking about your future," he added with a small relieved smile.

"Thank you, Dad," I thanked the man, feeling a weight I didn't know I had on my shoulders disappear. With this, I was sure to secure my future.

"You're welcome, PJ. Now that he's back, I have a few more questions for the man, and then you can do whatever you want," he ordered, leaving no room for negotiation.

Gratefully nodding, I waited with Bob for Mr. Lynch to return.

A few minutes later, Lynch returned with a small glass in his hands.

"I have a few more questions for you, Mr. Lynch," Bob asked as soon as the man took a seat behind his desk.

With much more seriousness than before, Lynch prepared in his seat to answer them.

Bob asked dozens of questions, all related to the security of my money if we decided to invest in the companies the man spoke about.

"I assure you, Mr. Duncan, if you allow me to be your stockbroker, I will ensure to execute the orders you give me to the letter. I will also provide you with the best financial advice that my education allows. I research the market every day; you can be sure that I will do everything possible to grow your money," surprisingly professionally, the man affirmed.

"Good," Bob agreed seriously.

"Perfect," Mr. Lynch cheered, "let me explain what it means for me to be your broker," he was saying.

"Oh, no, it would be a service for PJ," Bob explained proudly.

"Ah, then, my young friend," excitedly, the man nodded.

Pulling out several papers from his portfolio, Mr. Lynch began to explain the fees and commissions related to managing a portfolio, as well as related taxes and a bunch of technical things that we simply had to trust.

"Since my young friend is still underage, the contract for my services as well as the bank's services must be signed by a guardian," the man explained, handing the contract to Bob, who slowly began to read it. "It's basically written there what I just explained to you with many legal technical words. This contract is valid for a period of ten years; then we can draft another one, but until then, you can be sure that the fees will not change," while Bob read the contract extensively, Mr. Lynch explained.

With the pen in his hand, Bob looked at me seeking approval, and nervously, I nodded quickly.

"Perfect," Mr. Lynch celebrated with a big smile, "you are my first clients. Let's get rich together," he declared excitedly.

The revelation surprised Bob, making him start coughing vigorously.

Unable to help it, I laughed at his reaction. I, too, had been a bit surprised until I thought about the way the man behaves. It's not strange that people don't have enough confidence in his words; if I didn't come from a few years in the future, I'm not sure I would have trusted him either.

"So, how do you plan to invest your money?" the man asked, pulling another blank sheet from his desk.

After outlining what would be my investment plan, dividing the two hundred thousand dollars into the companies Mr. Lynch had recommended, as well as Microsoft, just to be sure, we bid farewell to Mr. Lynch with two hundred thousand dollars less in my savings account.

"Well, you still have fifteen thousand dollars quite good in your account," Bob commented amusingly as we walked out of the hallway where the stockbroker's office was located.

"We have to withdraw money to pay for the car and buy ice cream for Teddy and her friends," I reminded Bob.

"True," with a pained expression, Bob nodded, probably calculating the remaining money in my account as we walked towards one of the tellers.

Quickly with the account passbook in hand, Bob withdrew two thousand dollars from my savings account.

Upon leaving the bank, Bob checked his wristwatch, "look at that, we took longer than I could expect. We can go get your brother now," Bob said, opening the door to his awful truck.

Still with many papers specifying my investments in my hands, I got into Bob's truck.

The trip to Gabe's new "music school" was quite fast, in a house not far from the bank. Bob quickly got out and, a few seconds later, returned with a smiling Gabe carrying his backpack.

"PJ!" the excited boy shouted my name as soon as he got into the car.

"Hello, buddy, how was your first day?" I asked.

"It was spectacular," the ecstatic boy affirmed. "My teacher is great; he has a guitar that connects to a black box called an amplifier, and he let me play it. He said I have the greatest talent he has ever seen. He also knows how to play the piano and said he would teach me that too," the boy quickly explained with excitement, demonstrating his age.

"I'm happy for you, little one, but just because you're good at it doesn't mean you shouldn't make an effort," I explained, supported by Bob.

"Yes, I know; Mr. Ray said the same thing," Gabe seriously affirmed.

A few minutes later, with Gabe still explaining everything he learned with his teacher, we arrived at the ice cream shop. "And ice cream too?" Gabe asked cheerfully. "Today is the best day ever," he asserted, quickly getting out of the car as soon as Bob parked.

Following Gabe into the store after receiving Bob's orders, "choose whatever you want, little one, my treat," pushing Gabe slightly, who seemed surprised by my statement, I entered the shop.

After buying a few liters of ice cream, we returned to the truck, Gabe happily licking his own ice cream.

When we arrived home, "I'll go with George to get the car; you go and deliver the ice cream," Bob ordered as he walked towards the Cooper's house.

Following Gabe into the house, I separated from my little brother, who ran to our room, probably excited to put into practice what he had learned in his classes. Leaving the ice creams on the dining table, I walked to Teddy's room.

After knocking on the door, I waited a few seconds until my sister allowed me to enter.

"Hello, Baja, Bianca, how are you?" I greeted Teddy's friends, who seemed surprised after I remembered their names.

"How's your sister, Bianca?" seizing the opportunity, I asked after receiving responses from both teenagers.

"She's fine, I guess," the teenager responded without seeming very sure.

"I'm glad," I affirmed

, unsure about her response. "Well, there's ice cream on the dining table; help yourselves before Gabe remembers there's more ice cream," I continued while saying goodbye to the teenagers, leaving the house again.

Outside the house, Bob was already chatting happily with Mr. Cooper next to his truck. "There you are. Let's go; George offered to give us a ride in his truck," laughing, Bob friendly hit Mr. Cooper's shoulder, opening the passenger door of Mr. Cooper's truck. Bob indicated for me to get in.

The journey to Brock's uncle's house was, in one word, cramped. Being sandwiched between the two burly men while guiding Mr. Cooper from memory to Brock's uncle's house, where I would buy the car, was an experience I wouldn't want to repeat, ever.

"It's there, where the 'sold' sign is," I said, pointing to Brock's uncle's house.

After Mr. Cooper parked his car, the three of us got out, me leading the way ahead of the two adults, who stayed back to reveal the car. I knocked on the door, stepping back a pace and waiting for the man to come out.

With a big smile, which was immediately wiped off his face, Brock's uncle opened the door. "It's you, kid. I thought you wouldn't come," he said defeatedly as he stepped out of the house, looking at where his car was. "Debbie," I overheard him whisper longingly.

"Yes, sorry for the delay, Mr. Kingman." We hadn't actually agreed on a time, but seeing his mood, I'm sure this approach is much better.

"Ah, it's okay," the man sighed, still staring at the car.

"No way," we suddenly heard Mr. Cooper say. "Jet Kingman," the man continued as he approached.

Brock's uncle quickly wiped his eyes from what seemed like tiny tears before changing his expression to a bright smile, cheerfully approaching Mr. Cooper with a big laugh.

"Do you guys know each other?" Bob asked while greeting Mr. Kingman with a firm handshake. "Bob Duncan," he introduced himself, receiving Mr. Kingman's name in return.

"Oh no, Jet here was in his senior year when I entered high school. The best racing record this town has ever seen," Mr. Cooper pointed out with excitement, gesturing to Brock's uncle, who accepted the words with false modesty. "Yes, that was a great time," Mr. Kingman admitted with false humility. "Now, I don't know what the current coach is doing. If it weren't for the game these kids won, I would bet the coach either doesn't know how to do his job or just doesn't want to do it," the man continued mockingly, surprising everyone present, especially Mr. Cooper, the current coach, who began to cough bitterly.

"So, the car, PJ told me about it," Bob quickly changed the subject, focusing attention on the now uncovered car a few steps away.

"Ah yes, Debbie. Unfortunately, my wife doesn't want us to take her to Canada with us, and I couldn't do anything else but sell her," the man approached the car with sadness, lightly caressing the top of the car. He leaned slightly, apparently whispering words to the car.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure PJ isn't making a mistake," Bob explained as he approached the car. "Can we start it?" he asked.

Mr. Kingman, who had kept his face close to the car, took a few seconds to respond. "Sure," he said as he moved away from the car, walking back to the house.

"It seems like you have a magnet for eccentric people," Bob laughed as Mr. Kingman entered his house.

"I don't do my job well," the offended Mr. Cooper snorted as he also walked near the car.

"Don´t hear that Coach. You do your job very well," I assured the annoyed man.

Shaking his head with a small smile, "thanks, son," Mr. Cooper said, lightly patting my back.

"Okay, let's hear Debbi roar," Mr. Kingman returned outside with the car key in hand, a sad expression on his face.

Bob and Mr. Cooper started testing the car, inspecting both the exterior and the interior. Surely, Mr. Cooper, not pleased with Mr. Kingman's opinion about the way he does his job, was particularly meticulous in all aspects of the car, even seriously checking the engine.

"How much did you agree on?" Bob asked calmly.

"Fifteen hundred," Mr. Kingman replied with pain.

"All right, that seems like a fair price," Bob nodded, giving me the go-ahead to proceed with the payment.

"I've got your money here, Mr. Kingman," as I pulled out the small stack of bills, I tried to hand it to the man, who tightly held the key in his hand.

Seeing that he didn't accept the money, I was about to lower my hand until, "Kevin!" from the doorway, Brock's aunt, whom I had met a few days ago, came out swiftly. "How are you, dear? How's Joey doing?" as she passed by me, maintaining a friendly smile, she asked while snatching the key from the reluctant man's hand.

"He's doing fine," I assured the woman.

"Well, that's perfect. Please keep an eye on him," the woman kindly requested, and then, turning to Kevin, she said, "and you, Kevin, go get the damn papers," immediately changing her attitude, the woman ordered her husband, who quickly nodded and ran into the house.

"There you go," the woman said, handing the car key while keeping her palm open, waiting for the money, which I quickly handed over, somewhat intimidated by her abrupt changes in attitude.

A moment later, Mr. Kingman came out of the house carrying a small folder in one hand and a pen in the other.

Still reluctant and with teary eyes, Mr. Kingman seemed not to want to open the documents. "Oh, drop the act, Kevin," exasperated, the woman snatched the papers from her husband's palm, opening the papers for the property transfer. "You just have to sign this, and that's it, dear," changing her attitude again with a friendly smile, the woman handed me the papers.

After Mr. Kingman, reluctantly forced by his wife, and I signed the papers, we bid farewell to the couple as Mr. Kingman was dragged by his partner into the house.

"That's not something you see every day," Bob joked, nodding along with Mr. Cooper, who was getting into his truck and mocking the couple.

"Let's go," Bob said, walking up to the car. "Your mom says you know how to drive; let's see if that's true," he continued, getting into the passenger side.

Upon returning home after parking the car and having Bob thank Mr. Cooper, I entered the house to do my pending tasks and study the book House had left me.

While Gabe played one of his guitars, I was entirely focused on studying the book. "Patrick John Dart Duncan!" suddenly, my name was shouted by an obviously upset woman.

---

Author's Thoughts:

As always, I'm not American, Not a Doctor AND not a Brocker/Economics/Banker/Nothing (thats a new one).

The first chapter of the year.

So, I changed the name from Warren Buffett to Warren Lynch (Lynch apparently being another great investor in history, so I just combined the two names—think of "Warren Lynch" as an OC). The character will essentially be a prodigy in investments and a person with great work ethic, so from now on, I must say there won't be a subplot involving issues with investments. Money is just something that will facilitate things in the development of the story, completely separate from the general idea of the plot.

Another week has passed (Not really just a few days), so new thanks are in order. I would like to especially thank:

- keyakedo

- RandomPasserby96

- 11332223

Having said that,

I think that's it. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I'll correct them immediately.

Thanks for reading! :D

PS: LEAVE A REVIEW, please.