Three Men, Little Alvin, and a Tonka Truck
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About this ebook
Three Men, Little Alvin, and a Tonka Truck is an adorable caper of a story. It will tug at your heartstrings.
Little Alvin is a cute, blond-haired, blue-eyed boy who has the world at his feet. Though he could afford to buy all the toy stores in the world, his most prized possession is a Tonka Truck.
Little Alvin is a prince in the eyes of his minders. They love him dearly and are prepared to lay their lives down for him.
When an attempt to kidnap Little Alvin materialised one day, the three men in his life leap into action.
Will they come it out of their ordeal alive?
Angelin Sydney
Before becoming a full-time author, Angelin Sydney was one of the most prolific contributors to fanfiction and fictionpress where her compelling style of story-telling had strong followings. She was a journalist for a daily business paper in the Philippines. Since moving to Australia many years ago, she has had numerous incarnations. She was a banker, insurance seller, housing loan broker, home-stay mother to hundreds of international students, small business operator, casual kitchen hand and a nanny. She’s really been around. Her most consistent role, however, is being a mother to four wonderful people. Sadly, one of them has gone ahead, leaving her to write stories to help others to heal, laugh, hope, and continue to dream. In all honesty, the only thing active about her is her imagination. It is as fertile as the rice fields of the Philippines where she was born. About Her Stories They are original, funny, swoon-worthy, and thrilling to the core. She’s the self-styled queen of romantic comedy and romantic thriller. Follow her on Twitter: @Angelin_Sydney and Instagram: writingangel
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Three Men, Little Alvin, and a Tonka Truck - Angelin Sydney
Little Alvin
LITTLE ALVIN WAS A SCION of one of the world’s wealthiest men. When he was born, he didn’t just come out of his mother’s womb with the proverbial silver spoon, he also came with three passports: for America, where his father was a naturalised citizen; Britain, where his maternal lineage could be traced back to the War of the Roses; and France, where his mother was a naturalised citizen.
How it was possible for someone to have three loyalties was anybody’s guess, but all three governments did love to claim his family as their own. After all, he was a Rothschild.
Little Alvin’s Daddy was hardly around. He mostly saw the philanthropic billionaire Sir Randolph Alvin Anderson-Rothschild as a streaming video feed, a face that he once mistook for Brad Pitt’s. Dear Daddy was knighted by the Queen for his financial contribution to the preservation of quintessential English gardens. How very English, one might say.
His mummy was a socialite. Lady Caroline Elizabeth Townsend-Rothschild. She was hardly around, either.
It was interesting, then, that Little Alvin lived in an exclusive estate in Toronto, Canada.
Why not in his two-thousand-acre estate on the outskirts of London?
Why not in his vineyard in the south of France?
Or in his mega-mansion in upstate New York?
Why was he living in a highly classified location, albeit a mansion that could have been mistaken for a boutique resort on a triple acreage in the outskirts of Toronto?
Here’s why: The Canadian economic, political and taxation landscape was making it very attractive for the world’s super rich, the type who quietly minded their own business, to pull up stumps and relocate. Tax specialists didn’t call Canada the Great White Tax Haven
and the Switzerland of the North
for nothing.
Besides, what wasn’t there to like about that great, windy, and occasionally frozen wonderland, apart from the heating bill? That wasn’t a problem for the mega-rich types.
Soon, Little Alvin would be acquiring a fourth passport.
HIS MANSION WAS HIS playground.
Aside from a perfectly manicured and landscaped garden, the property also had its own helipad, a panic room, and a getaway by the lake connected by a subterranean passageway to the main house.
He had servants who obeyed his every command.
And a toy room that could rival a branch of Toys R
Us. He had every widget, gadget, and thingy-ma-jiggy a boy could wish for, but all he really loved to play with was an old Tonka Truck.
Little Alvin had had it since he was three, a gift from someone very close to him. He once told his Nanny Adelaide, whom he called Addie, that if his house ever burnt down all he’d hope to rescue was his Tonka Truck because it was ‘priceless.’
Little Alvin had no playmates his own age. He once told his minders that he can’t be bothered to play with kids who had no idea what real enjoyment was about. He was referring to the Little people in the Ivy League kindergarten he attended. He didn’t like to play with them because they were ‘spoiled brats’ and ‘arses.’
Now, that last word was one he often heard his minders say. They never again said it in his presence after they were called to the Principal’s Office.
Speaking of words, he wasn’t allowed to swear, but since his minders swore a lot he told them that ‘if it’s good enough for you, then it’s good enough for me.’
One of his bodyguards explained to him that it wasn’t good form for a five-year-old to say things like ‘Shit.’
Much to their amusement, Little Alvin replied with all seriousness, his arms across his chest, ‘Why? What’s so wrong about pooping?’
The Little one was also a funny philosopher. He once told his teacher, or rather Class Facilitator, the highfalutin descriptor, that he would one day rule the world and when that happened he would ‘make popcorn free for everyone.’
When the Class Facilitator asked why so, he said, ‘Because popcorn is a happy food, and when people are happy they don’t go to war.’ The teacher thought that he was probably right.
This Little boy was truly one of a kind, to the effect that one couldn’t help falling in love with him.
Physically, he was adorable. Blue-eyed for starters, as blue as the sky on a clear day, with a mop of blond curly tops. Wise as a wizard and sweet as apple pie.
More endearing about Little Alvin was how polite and kind he was, no thanks to his absentee parents. Instead, he was taught good manners and right conduct by his Nanny Addie, along with his two minders, with the exception of proper vocabulary.
THESE TWO HAD BEEN in the service of his family since the day his mother fell pregnant with him. They were there when he was delivered by caesarean section at Mount Sinai Hospital in the U.S. of A.
They were with him to every doctor and dentist visit, went with him to Kindy and played with him, even though they shouldn’t have. In their chosen profession, playing with a client’s kid was an absolute no-no, but they couldn’t help it; Little Alvin was too adorable.
These men were wise men. They knew they couldn’t be with him all the time. Not every minute and every second of the day. So, when they did do playtime, they did survival training. Little Alvin could teach an adult or two about urban warfare, and self-defence, and most of all