Houston [Earth II]

by **Grand California** » Thu Apr 06, 2023 11:10 pm

[RATED: MA]

Houston is rated MA for Mature Audiences. It may have language and themes which may be uncomfortable for some readers in spite of the fact the thread maintains the PG-13 guideline.

Houston was created primarily as a way to introduce this nation to my RP group, Earth II. However, since beginning this thread, I have fallen in love with these characters and have opted to continue to write their stories. At its heart, it is a kind of homage to the television prime time soap operas and drama I grew up with in the 1980s and 1990s. It follows the lives of the Devereaux family, the richest and most influential family in the Federal Republic of California. The Devereauxs started as a Texas oil barren family and diversified their business into a truly global organization with offices around the world under the holding company known as Devereaux Enterprises. The Devereaux family were one of the earliest families to the City of Houston and their family has been based there ever since. The family includes two previous Californian Presidents, four Governors of Texas, and seven Mayors of Houston among other political offices as well as General Rutherford Devereaux, a prominent founding father of the Federal Republic (who was also its first president). They have the power, the influence, and the means to get what they want by hook or by crook. Follow along in the continued adventures as the family wheels and deals with the business world while trying to maintain their mostly dysfunctional family unit. Come and follow the exploits of David, Brock, and the rest of the family as they attempt to retain their family's dynasty against all threats both external and internal. The first 16 chapters constitute the introduction and the first series (known as Series 1). Series 2 will begin posting on May 29, 2023. If you're read Series 1, you can click here to jump strait to Series 2!

Below you will find links to each chapter and each character's biography (which are not all written yet). There is an OOC Thread if you want to discuss anything or have a question. Don't hesitate to post there if you do. Please do not post in this thread. Thanks for reading!

C H A R A C T E R · G U I D E

Biographies

David Devereaux | Brock Devereaux | Adam Campbell

E P I S O D E · G U I D E

Series 1

Chapter 1.01: Business As Usual

Brock received an expensive gift at his 25th birthday party. David leans on a state senator to get a vote to go his way.

Chapter 1.02: Trust

David launches the nuclear option to remind people what happens when you don't do as ordered. Brock is given a business opportunity of his own after receiving the balance of his grandfather's trust fund

Chapter 1.03: Blueprints

David is promoted to COO of Devereaux Enterprises. Brock begins the renovations on Club Alexander and unexpectedly finds more than he bargained for. LJ Coburn, son of disgraced Sen. Jack Coburn, vows revenge on David.

Chatper 1.04: Angles

Adam comes to dinner to meet David, David makes his feelings know; Sen. Jackson meets with David about a generous offer; LJ returns to Houston

Chapter 1.05: Fractured Family

David sells the last of the companies his grandfather owned against Nanette's wishes; Adam finds out about Brock's tragic coming out; David donates a large sum to charity; Adam is given the Brock treatment

Chapter 1.06: Fast Lane

Uncle Nathan comes to visit, David makes a deal with a bank, Adam and Brock have an announcement to make

Chapter 1.07: The Fight

Nathan catches Nanette and calls her out for her deed; Brock and David have a fight

Chapter 1.08: California Schemin'

Brock tries to teach Adam some etiquette; David's plan with Winston comes to fruition; David's morning commute goes off the rails

Chapter 1.09: Aftermath

The family comes together when David's accident renders him unconscious; A young, budding streamer may have evidence as to who tried to kill David; a long lost relative returns

Chapter 1.10: Awakening

Lucas reaches out about giving the video of David's accident to Lawson; David has an improvement in the hospital

Chapter 1.11: The Reward

David is given a rundown of recovery time; Lucas claims his reward but finds the Devereauxs aren't the only one who knows he has the video

Chapter 1.12: Back to Business

David issues a threat to LJ; Brock tries to get David to back down; trouble begins to brew in Europe

Chapter 1.13: An Equal Partnership

Brock and Adam have a discussion; David wins a prestigious award; Nanette reveals a deep secret

Chapter 1.14: Secrets

Lucas gets a job working for David; Brock and Adam talk about living arrangements; David makes a deal the mayor can't refuse; Nanette's been keeping a really big secret

Chapter 1.15: Little Jack's War: Part 1

Nanette decides the time as come for Louis to return to Houston; Little Jack "LJ" Coburn enacts his revenge

Chapter 1.16: Little Jack's War: Part 2

The final showdown between Little Jack and David takes place

by **Grand California** » Tue Apr 11, 2023 10:21 pm

H O U S T O N · T E X A S
Tuesday 4 April 2023 | 01:15 CDT (GMT -5)

The wallpaper, in a light pink, wrapped the room. Plush, light gray carpeting led from the doorway towards a brass bed. On the floor, a pair of jeans, a denim shirt, and a white stetson hat lie with reckless abandon. The covers, also in a light pink, were strewn around, some still on the bed, some lying helplessly over the edge of the bed praying they never touched the floor. David Devereaux-Margrave rolled over on his back, his chest heaving, his brow full of sweat. He pulled his hands up over his face, wiping some of the sweat from his eyes, then turned back towards her. She was motionless, looking up at the ceiling, her fair skin damp with sweat as well. She rolled over on her right and smiled brightly as David put his arms back down at his sides. She leaned in and began to kiss him again like she wanted to remember that kiss forever. He smiled as she pulled her lips away from his. Then, as he went to turn over and kiss her again, he heard it. Something wasn’t right. The smile melted and he shot up out of bed. The young lady froze, realizing what was happening.

“Shit, Daddy’s home early,” she said, her voice trembling and quivering.

David shot up out of bed and grabbed his clothing, tossing out of her still-open window. He started to run towards the window. Then he looked back at the young lady and smiled. He quickly returned to the bed, leaned in and kissed her once more. As he did, he could hear footsteps coming down the marble hallways towards her room. He bolted towards the window and started to climb out until he looked back at the floor. He jumped back in and raced to pick up his hat. As the young lady began to put her bed in order, he smiled at her and winked, then went out the window. As he did, her bedroom door opened. A rather large man with a pot belly and a balding head walked in.

“What the hell?” the large man said as he looked at his daughter, who’d forgotten to put her clothes back on. He noticed the open window and ran over towards it. From his spot, he could see David, running naked, towards the front of the property. “Okay, little Missy, when I get done with him, I’m gonna deal with you.”

The large man ran through the house, stopping only at a tall glass gun locker to remove a shotgun. He opened it quickly, loaded two bullets, and snapped it closed. He burst through the front door of the large suburban home. He could just catch a glimpse at David. He cocked the gun and fired into the night. David ducked, his clothes falling to the ground. He put the hat on and left the clothes as he could hear her father reloading. He raced, barefoot across the street to his car. He lept into the driver seat and turned the car over. From his window he could see her father coming down the curved driveway, gun pointed right at him. With a devilish smile on his face, he sped off.

“Get back here you son of a bitch!” he shouted into the night.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Tuesday 4 April 2023 | 13:45 CDT (GMT -5)

The home of the Devereaux family, Devereaux Manor was, simply put, opulent. The French neoclassical style chateau stood as a giant palace in the middle of the upscale neighborhood. The covered entryway and double doors opened into a large double-height rotunda in solid marble. Around the rotunda stood sculptures, all in the Greco-Roman style. On both sides expanded marble colonnades leading towards the two main wings of the house. Handcrafted millwork inlaid with gold adorned the walls as well as various artworks. There were also a double staircase which led to the second floor, where the family bedrooms were located. David, wearing the stetson over that which should be covered, quickly took the left staircase and raced towards his bedroom down the end of the hall. He reached the door and quickly opened it.

Like David, the bedroom was pure Texas. The dresser, the nightstand, the bed, all in a distressed, unfinished look. Perhaps the pieces would be more at home in a cabin somewhere in the wilderness, but for David it was absolutely the right choice. Beneath the bed was a woven rug, in a southwestern pattern, muted in color but with gray and red the primary scheme. On the nightstand was a bedside lamp that looked like it extended up from a twisting circlet of small branches. Behind the headboard was a stone wall with stones of varying grays and blacks. Above the bed on the wall hung the flag of Texas, but not just any flag. This was the flag that once hung on Hutchinson Davis’ bedroom wall. The first time he ever won something playing poker. The flag itself was from when Texas joined the Grand California’s union back in the 1800s, having once flown over the territorial capital. What Hutchinson didn’t know was that David only won because he kept an ace in his sleeve that night.

“Good evening, I see?” Brock said as he lay on David’s bed like a parent awaiting an explanation.

“Until her daddy got the shotgun,” David said with a smile.

“Too bad he missed,” said Brock.

“What are you doin’ in here?” David asked.

“You weren’t home when I knocked, so I wanted to see what you were up to, Davy,” Brock said.

If there was one name David hated being called by anyone else, it was Davy. Something about it just struck the wrong chord deep within his soul. To him, it meant he was a little boy still, someone to be ordered around and to ask permission to do things. However, when Brock said it, it was different. It reminded him of the days when David was his protector at school. When he was the one who taught Brock to throw and catch a baseball. Of course, while Brock was his little brother, Brock was three inches taller than him. David walked towards the dresser and pulled out a pair of gym shorts, then he turned back towards Brock, "You mind?” David nodded his head towards the door.

“Hey, you did tell Mom not to go too big for my party, right?” Brock asked as he stopped in the doorway.

“I sure did, but I don’t reckon she listened. You know how she gets. Especially for her little boy,” David said, trying to push Brock out of his room.

“By the way, this bedroom is tragic. Let me call an interior designer to save you from yourself,” Brock said as David closed the door on him.

Ball Room | 21:35 CDT (GMT -7) | Tuesday 4 April 2023

The ballroom served as the focal point of most family celebrations and gatherings. A place where people could relax, let their hair down, and just have fun. With the team of staff employed by the manor itself, the ballroom for this was turned into a nightclub. Lights were installed on metal frames from the ceiling. Laser lights and a smoke machine added to the ambiance. A DJ located at the front of the ballroom used his laptop and equipment to mix some of the latest, greatest dance songs into a non-stop, pounding symphony of electronic sound. 50 or so people, mainly Brock’s age, were there dancing with drinks in hand as the thumping bass rumbled. Nanette stood off to the side, by a doorway leading to one of the manor’s five kitchens. Not one for electronic dance music, she kept her feigned smile on her face. Her designer dress hugged like a jealous lover as she started to press her way forward towards the DJ’s table. The little black dress of legend, off the shoulder, the skirt finishing above the knees. Towards the front of the morass of twentysomethings, David danced with one of the ladies present, some friend of Brock’s he hadn’t met before, but was hoping to get to know later. Brock, for his part, danced with a rather dashing young man wearing a shirt that hid no secrets, which was something Brock appreciated in a man. Nanette slipped her way to the DJ booth and managed to finally get the DJ’s attention after a moment. The music dimmed, the dancing stopped, and all eyes turned to the front.

“I’m sorry to interrupt the excellent music, but I wanted to take a moment to tell you how special today is. Aas you all know, my youngest turned 25 today.” The crowd began to applaud and cheer, with a few yeehaws being shouted. “Brock, my sweet boy,” Nanette started.

“Mother!” Brock protested, causing the crowd to chuckle.

“Sorry,” Nanette said with a smile. As she continued, house staff began passing around trays of champagne, Dom Perignon. While the glasses were being handed out, Lawson, the majordomo of the Devereaux Manor, handed Nanette her own glass, which she took with a smiling thank you. “Brock, come on up.”

Brock shook his head, but David gave him a rather firm nudge forward, almost causing Brock to fall forward. He walked up the stairs to the small stage and stood beside his mother. As he gave her a kiss on the cheek, Nanette motioned towards the staff to pull the curtains away from the window nearest the stage. When it had been pulled, sitting in front of the window was a Bugatti Chiron Pur Sport in blue, Brock’s favorite color. When he realized it was really for him, his face exploded in surprise. So eager to race outside and to take his new whip for a spin, he forgot he actually had to use the door to get outside. He ran to the window, then, he knelt covering his eyes as the crowd applauded the ludicrously expensive gift.

“I hope he likes it,” Nanette said, gathering some laughter from the partygoers. Nanette walked over to Brock, who stood up and gave Nanette a massive hug, so much so she began to feel constrained somewhat until he let go.

“Thank you, Mama,” Brock said with a smile that would make the Cheshire cat jealous.

“Holy shit,” David said as he came over to the window, “That’s one hell of a car there, boy, gotdamn!”

Nanette, with mic still in hand, began to speak again, “Everyone, let’s keep the party going. Mr. DJ?” And with her command the music returned as Brock’s friends all started to dance, at least those not still gawking at the car.

“Did you know?” Brock asked, looking at David.

“I told her you needed a big ol’ pick-up, but I guess this works,” David said as he reached over and mussed Brock’s hair slightly. “Tomorrow mornin’, how ‘bout you and me go down to the race and race. My truck against your car.”

“I’m gonna blow you off the line, Davy,” Brock said.

“Boys,” Nanette said while rolling her eyes, “Let’s not right now. “

David’s cell phone buzzed in the interior pocket of his suit. He pulled it out and looked at the name. “Sorry, gotta take this.” David answered and left the ballroom. He walked down the hall, his dress shoes making a slight clack with each step as he approached the library. He walked into the room, the wall done in dark wood finish with more books than a local public library ranging the gamut from the classics to books about business law. He continued past the gas fireplace above which sat a portrait of Edward Devereaux, the man who made Devereaux Enterprises what it was today. David sat down in the large, dark brown leather chair behind the oak desk.

“Senator, I don’t think I understand,” David said as he took the handcrafted crystal lowball glass from the small wet bar behind the desk. He reached into the small dorm fridge and pulled out a large spherical ice cube which caused the crystal glass to clink in angelic tones. He poured himself some bourbon from the bottle on the desk, leaned back in the chair and put his shoes on the desk, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Now, Senator, I thought this was all handled. Now you tell me I gotta get on down to Austin on Monday to handle this problem?”

Senator Jack Coburn was the local state senator for this part of Houston and he was, and had always been, a close friend of the family. Whenever the Devereaux’s needed something done at the legislature, it was Senator Coburn they counted on to make sure it was done. Such a friendship came at a price, though. David considered this price to be nothing more than an investment in the future both for himself and Devereaux Enterprises. Yet, such an investment was difficult at best in Grand California. With so many laws on the books to prevent such a thing from happening, he had to get creative about how things were done. Nothing that ever had to be put on the books could ever happen. Though this little wrinkle meant certain favors couldn’t be done, it didn’t rule everything out. Even so, Sen. Coburn--and indeed most state senators--came fairly cheap in David’s mind. What Senator Coburn wanted was money and that was easier than most anything else. Cash couldn’t be traced and the good Senator knew how to ensure no one ever knew he had that kind of cash sitting around.

“Right, Senator, I’ll be there on Thursday. You just make sure that Senator Jackson knows how important this deal is to Devereaux Enterprises. Without his support, well, can’t get things done that are needin’ done. And if we can’t get this deal done and the legislature on our side, well, I’m afraid that we might be needin’ a new Senator come next election.”

Senator Mary Lou Jackson, a progressive from San Antonio, was the power behind the state contracts for oil and gas for the entire state. Without her support of Devereaux Enterprises, the very lucrative contract would go back up for bidding and that was something David wasn’t going to let happen. The Devereauxs had had that contract since the 1990s and by god they were going to keep it. While state senators came more cheaply, not all could be bought. Senator Jackson had campaigned to ensure that corruption continued to be stamped out, and David was going down there to ensure that corruption remained.

“I see,” David said. “I’ll be there Thursday mornin’. I reckon somewhere around 7am. Same place.

B A T T L E H O R N · R A N C H
Houston County, Texas | Wednesday 5 April 2023 | 11:45 CDT (GMT -5)

In a dusty town far outside of Houston sat the 2,000-acre Battlehorn Ranch, the home of David and Brock’s great-great grandfather, the man who first found oil and set the family fortune in motion. The ranch itself was nothing more than your typical cattle ranch complete with large grazing areas, big family home, and several smaller homes scattered around for the hands that helped keep the place running. One thing such a large homestead offered was space. The driveway leading to the main house from the state highway was about mile long. The driveway itself ended in an oval, allowing people to just pull up and walk in while one of the house’s staff members would then take their car to the garage for safe keeping. Today, where the oval returned to the straightway, David’s large, powerful pickup truck sat. A behemoth of a vehicle This cherry red Ford Raptor was decked out with every creature comfort under the sun including a suped-up engine capable of taking this truck and making it one hell of a racing truck. However, next to it sat Brock’s new Bugatti, sleek and muscular in its blue that matched the wideopen, cloudless Texas sky.

“First one to the street light wins,” David said. “The usual bet?”

“You got it, Davy,” Brock said as he got into the car. David followed suit climbing into his truck. In front of both cars was the head ranch hand, Lester Colby, a grizzled man whose skin was absolutely scared by the relentless summer sun. He held a small revolver in the air, the kind of gun that looked more like a toy these days, but something the old Texan wouldn’t leave home without.

“Alright boys, in 3.... 2.... 1.....” And then Lester fired the pistol. The Bugatti sped off the spot leaving David behind in a somewhat brownish dust cloud, but the truck got up to speed in its time, gaining on the bugatti at an alarming rate as far as Brock was concerned. As the driveway’s end came into clear view, Brock smiled, noticing the truck was half a car length behind, but David nailed the gas. The pick-up, moving closer, caught Brock again by surprise. This time he floored it with the car speeding up. However, As the driveway came to an end, Brock let up slight on the gas fearful of hurting his brand new car while David didn’t bother to worry about such things. The driveway ended, both turned sharply onto the highway. The lonely highway was empty save for one cattle truck way down in the distance. The race continued on. Both vehicles passed 230 kph as they approached the light. David closed the gap, then began to pass. At the light stood Nancy Colby, Lester’s wife. With camera in hand she held her position as they approached the intersection. With a few clicks, she snapped the cars passing. Flipping through the camera images, the photo finished showed the pick-up truck about a foot ahead of the car at the intersection. A few moments later, both vehicles pulled up.

“Well, David, you won by a nose,” She said, showing David and Brock the photo.

“I didn’t want to hurt my baby,” Brock said with an innocent smile.

“You just ain’t got the sense to drive it, Brock,” David said. “Now, pay up.”

Brock reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. “Here, Davy. Congratulations.”

“Hoo boy,” David said, “Now that’s the prettiest little dollar I ever earned.”

“You boys staying at the ranch tonight?” Nancy asked.

“Nah,” David said, “Gotta head on over to Austin in the morning. But we’re coming up weekend after next, so we’ll see ya’ll then.”

It was then that the blue lights show up. The black SUV of the Texas State Troopers, a group of folks on whose bad side no one wanted to be on. The trooper stepped out of the car and walked over to David and Brock as they stood on the side of the road. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I'm gonna need to see your licenses."

"Officer," David said. "Good day to ya."

"License and registration, please." the young trooper said. Both boys produced the documents as requested. The trooper went back to his car and checked out the plates, insurance, and the licenses to make sure the boys were on the up and up. Of course, seeing the name Devereaux appear on the screen and on the licenses, he sighed. He typed a few things on the screen in his SUV. Then he opened his ticket book and wrote two tickets. He stepped out of the car and handed the boys one each. "Now, I'm gonna let you two boys off with a warning today. Roads empty, no one was in real danger, except yourselves. Drive safe. If I catch you two boys out here doing this again, I ain't gonna look too kindly on it. Got it?"

A U S T I N · T E X A S
Home of State Sen. Jack Coburn | Thursday 6 April 2023 | 06:57 CDT (GMT -5)

The one thing David hated about state senators was how pedestrian their lives were. Most lived in a sprawling, cookie-cutter neighborhood because the government wasn’t a lucrative business. It was there for people concerned only with power and influence, not with money. Sen. Coburn was no different. His house was modest. Very middle-class Texas. That was to say a large ranch-style house with a large garage and a pool in the backyard. Quaint in David’s eyes, but he supposed those who only made around $80,000 a year, this was all they could afford. Though, he also knew all the money he’d given the senator over the last few years. It proved to David that Coburn was a smart man. One who hoarded the money, squirreling it away for a rainy day when he found himself beaten in an election. He walked around to the side of the garage where there was a small door that led out back. There, Jack Coburn stood, smoking on a fine cigar, wearing a business suit topped with a gray cowboy hat. Nouveau Texas, David called it.

“I don’t like having to come on over here,” David said. “Especially when I thought we had this all taken care of. Especially when I gotta get up at 3 in the mornin’ to drive here. So, tell me how I can help you, Jack.”

“Well, Mr. Devereaux, it’s like this: That old bitch ain’t gonna budge none. She thinks the state’s being overcharged and she’s sure as hell gonna fix it. You might wanna cut your rates back.” Jack said. “That and she thinks the business practices are somewhat suspect.”

“With all due respect, we've given Austin quite the deal. Oil ain’t cheap to drill, transport, or refine. The state’s getting a 25% discount because they just buy so much of it. Tell her we’ll cut another 10% off the full price and I’ll see what I can do about my contacts in San Antone about getting her re-elected next year. If she plays ball.” David said as he placed his briefcase down next to Jack. “As far as how we do business, well, that little lady’s gonna have to leave that up to us. Now, you should have all you need in there to make this work. Take care of the boys, ya here? Rally them wagons around her and make sure those boys stop her because I ain’t gonna hesitate to back whomever challenges you in next year’s primary.”

“What if she doesn’t play ball? What if the boys are more afraid of her than you?” The senator said.

“Well, then, guess we’re gonna have to put the fear of David back into them,” he said with a smile.

“Just how do you plan to do that?” Sen. Coburn asked.

David just winked, then patted the senator on the shoulder, “Don’t you worry about nothing’. I got my ways, Jack.” Then David started to walk away. As he approached his car, he turned back towards Sen. Coburn, who was still puffing away on his cigar. “Do me a favor, Jack. With all the money you get from me, get yourself a better house. It’s so... unbecoming a senator to live like this,” he said as he gestured broadly towards the house. "Oh, and those things'll kill ya, Jack.”

David opened the door to his black Lexus LS. As he opened the door he watched as the Senator stubbed out his cigar on the bottom of his shoe, then took the briefcase inside the garage. He sat down in the driver’s seat, pushing the button to start the car. His seatbelt slid over him and locked into place. He put the car into reverse and pulled out of the driveway.

“Alright now,” David said out loud to himself, “Let’s see if this little lady’s gonna play ball or if I have to chase her ass out of Texas.”

by **Grand California** » Fri Apr 14, 2023 1:05 pm

D E V E R E A U X · T O W E R
600 Travis Street, Houston, Texas | Friday 7 April 2023 | 09:30 CDT (GMT -5)

Standing at just a tick over 304 meters (1002 feet), Devereaux Tower held the title of the tallest building both in Houston and in Texas (It beat out the number two spot by a mere three meters). Developed through a partnership between First Texas Community Bank and Devereaux Real Estate Holdings, LLC, the two billion dollar tower was topped out in 1982 offering the city of Houston over 200,000 square meters of office space with some mixed retail on the ground floor. The building was, at the time, a dominating, innovating complex defining the Houston skyline. These days, the building has shown its age, somewhat. 75 floors awaited visitors to the building, the top 10 of which were the global headquarters of Devereaux Enterprises, a conglomerate of companies owned primarily by the family of the same name. On the 70th floor sat the highest offices in Devereaux Enterprises. Here one could find David’s office, the Senior Vice President and the officer in charge of Acquisitions and Mergers, as well as the Chairman and CEO, Nanette Devereaux (having dropped the hyphenate a few years after her husband passed). Brock, on the other hand, did not have an office in the building. He didn’t have an office at all. Corporate life wasn’t quite his thing and, after several attempts at fitting in, Nanette reached that same conclusion. The corporate world was cutthroat. You either had it or you didn’t. There were no prizes for second place, only a dwindling fortune and shattered influence. None of which were things the Devereauxs ever wanted, and Brock was the weakest corporate link.

However, in light of turning 25, Brock was about to come into a massive payday. His late grandfather, Edward Devereaux, had set up trusts for his grandchildren. Each grandchild received a large sum and stock in the company. Never willing to allow the opportunity to make money pass, he ensured the trusts were set up in favorable accounts yielding the kind of interest growth that only the super rich could ever hope to see. The terms of the trust gave David and Brock an equal amount of shares and money. Each brother received 200 million on his 25th birthday and 15% of stock in Devereaux Enterprises. Nanette received some of Edward’s shares, giving her 25% total including those given to her from her grandfather. Together, the three would have controlling interest. The remaining 45% of the company was held in trust as part of Edward's will to be given out to Brock and David once certain conditions were met. By the most conservative estimates, the entire family net worth topped 200 billion between investments, assets, and cash. Today, the trust was to make its final payout. Gathered in Nanette’s office were Nanette, herself the chairman of the trust, the trust’s chief legal counsel, Nigel Goodman, and David. In spite of David not having any say or stake in the trust since his payday a little over 2 years ago, he wanted to be there for Brock.

Nanette’s office was, without a doubt, a shimmering city on a hill. Its alabaster glow was accentuated by the copious amounts of Texas sunshine blasting through the large windows. Everything in the office, from the executive desk that could adjust to allow her to stand for those long days in the office, to the sofas and tables to the left side of her desk, to the portraits on the wall, were mostly all white. The design came from the idea that she, not the office, should be the center of attention. To achieve this, Nanette never wore white at work. She believed she would blend in if she did. Today, she wore a simple light purple dress with a white belt and white shoes. Her hair, always rather short, was brushed forward, but the wave made it feel like golden water cascading down a hillside. At 57 years of age, she was radiant, cutting an angelic figure but beneath it beat the heart of a ruthless corporate leader. She used this to her advantage. When the old men would show up to do business, they would see a pretty lady. Someone who looked far younger than her years stated. They made assumptions, quite to their own detriment, about her capabilities. Even with the rumors of her prowess in the corporate world, no one believed it. Until they were sent home chewed up and spat out like an overcooked pork chop.

Her phone rang. She pressed the button to answer.

“Mr. Devereaux has arrived,” her secretary said.

“Send him in,” Nanette replied.

Brock entered, all 1.91 meters of him. He wore a slender-fit, handmade blue suit with a black t-shirt underneath the jacket and a pair of black leather shoes. A black pocket square sat in his pocket, folded to show just a straight edge peaking gently above the pocket’s edge. The top button of the suit coat was buttoned, the bottom was not. Never button the bottom button. He walked effortlessly across the floor, moving towards the desk where Nanette sat. As he approached, she smiled. Like his brother, Brock was not simply a Devereaux. He was a Devereaux-Margrave. And like his brother, he never used the Margrave part except on official documents and signatures. There were no ill feelings towards the Margrave family. Far from it, since both boys were half Devereaux and half Margrave they were proud to hail from both of these powerful families, but to avoid confusion, both boys opted to just go by Devereaux. The Californian Margraves, of which Brock and David descended, were less than pleased their name was omitted, but, considering how that family is looked upon by its senior branch back in Eastasia, well, no one in the Devereaux family was too bothered by it either way.

“Mr. Devereaux,” Nigel said as he handed Brock a black leather folder. “As it was the last will and testament of Edward Jefferson Devereaux, on 9 September 2018 deceased, that his two grandchildren receive from his estate a sum of money and stocks upon reaching their 25th birthday, and Mr. Brock Edward Devereaux-Margrave having reached this age satisfying the terms of the trust, the Trust of Edward Jefferson Devereaux executes his requests as laid out by the aforementioned will and testament. If Mr. Devereaux would please sign his copy of the document of execution.”

Brock took a black fountain pen from his interior suit pocket and signed his name where indicated.
“Thank you. The money has been transferred per your instructions, all stocks are hereby transferred into your name. Finally, Ms. Devereaux, and the two Mr. Devereauxs, the trust having executed its final action, fulfilling the terms of the last will and testament of Mr.Edward Jefferson Devereaux, is hereby dissolved. If you will please sign the documents before you.”

Nanette took a black pen from her desk and signed. Each boy in turn did the same on their copy, then the copies were traded back and forth until all copies were signed.

“It has been my great privilege and honor to act on behalf of the estate. Thank you all,” Nigel said as he gathered the folders and placed them in his briefcase, then he left the office.

A notification tone came from Brock’s phone. “The sound of money,” he said with a smile.

“Hot damn,” David said, “now what’re you gonna do with all that money?”

Nanette smiled over the desk at Brock, “Well, Brock, you do not have to make any decisions today, tomorrow, or even next month. You are free to do as you see fit. Just remember when you do make a decision, please come see me and we can talk about it. This way we can go over the finer points and such. Okay?”

“Yes, Mama,” Brock said.

T E X A S · S T A T E · L E G I S L A T U R E
Conference Room, State Capital, Austin, Texas | Friday 7 April 2023 | 16:47 CDT (GMT -5)

The meeting room consisted of a long table with around 20 seats surrounded by white walls, a modern installation. The Great Seal of the State of Texas sat on a wall behind the chairman’s chair. Windows on the left side of the room opened to the view of Austin. At the head of the table sat State Sen. Mary Lou Jackson, the Budget Committee Chairwoman. To her left sat the progressive party senate members, seven of them to be exact. To her right, the conservative party members, five of them. The conservatives were State Sen. Jorge Ortega, from way down around the Big Bend of Texas, State Sen. Marcus King from Abilene, State Sen. Tony Dwight from Lubbock, State Sen. Allen Dale from Amarillo, and State Sen. Jack Coburn from Houston. These were the men tasked by David to ensure that the committee voted in favor of retaining Devereaux Oil as the supplier for the state government’s use. A vote to keep the contract meant hundreds of millions of dollars over the next 10 years for Devereaux Oil, and its parent Devereaux Enterprises.

“I’d like to make a motion to bring the matter to a vote,” Sen. Tim Alvin, progressive from Dallas, said.

“Second,” Said progressive state Sen. Linda Barnes from Austin.

“Very well, we have a second. The motion to bring the oil contract to a vote is hereby brought to the committee for a vote. All those for, signify by saying, ‘yea.’ a booming yea came from the room. “Those opposed say ‘nay’” A light nay came. “The yeas and nays having been sufficiently in favor of voting, the vote is hereby called. Those in favor of keeping Devereaux Oil supplying the State of Texas, at a bigger discount, please signify by saying yea.”

The yea’s came solely from the conservative side of the room.

“Those opposed, signify by saying nay.”

The nays came solely from the progressive side of the room.

“The yeas and nays having been recorded, I find the nays having overwhelmingly voted against keeping the Devereaux Oil contract, the contract is hereby terminated at the end of the fiscal year. The State of Texas will begin accepting proposals from oil companies beginning next week. Meeting adjourned.”

D E V E R E A U X · T O W E R
Office of David Devereaux-Margrave | Friday 7 April 2023 | 17:29 CDT (GMT -5)

David’s office stood in stark contrast to the near heavenly white that dominated Nanette’s. Dark wood furniture, a very large, framed map of the State of Texas in a sepia tone with slightly frayed edges, and several photographs of himself with various important people including the former President. His diploma from the University of Texas, a bachelor’s in business administration and finance as well as his masters in business, hung beside the map of Texas. David sat in the large, highbacked office chair, the soft leather chair leaning back as David rested his feet on his desk. The L-shaped desk allowed David to keep his computer and monitors to the side for those face-to-face meetings. At that moment, the door to his office opened as his secretary entered. Following directly behind her with an emotionless face was Nanette

“I thought this was taken care of,” Nanette said as she tossed her cellphone at David.

He looked down at the screen, the article opened detailing how the oil contract for the state was to be canceled at the end of the fiscal year and new bids were to start being accepted next week.

“Goddamn,” David said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about this, Mama. I’m gonna ensure that we don’t lose that contract.” He tossed the phone back to his mother.

“You better, David. I don’t want to have to do this myself,” Nanette said. “But I will if you can’t.”

“Yes, Mama,” David said. “I got it.”

Nanette marched out of the office. David cleared his throat, then started to call Sen. Coburn. He stared at the contact, thumb hovering above it ready to call when the smile returned to his face. He put the phone down and stood up from his desk. He walked over to the right wall and grabbed the sepia-toned frames Texas map and opened it like a door. He twirled the dial to the large wall safe until he opened it. In the safe were stacks of hundred dollar bills, and a large red portfolio. He took out the portfolio and closed the safe, then put the picture back where it belonged. He tucked the red portfolio in his briefcase. On the label of the portfolio it said Operation Goal Line. After locking the briefcase, he walked out of his office and stopped by his secretary’s desk. She was just shutting down her computer.

“Jackie, I need you to do me a favor. See, I need to know who this State Sen. Mary Lou Jackson is. Can you get me all you can find on her? Have it on my desk by the end of business Monday? I’ll put a little something extra in the paycheck if you do.”

“Yes, Mr. Devereaux,” Jackie said with a smile.

“I do kindly appreciate that, Jackie.”

K X R V - T V
Houston, Texas | Friday 7 April 2023 | 21:37 CDT (GMT -5)

In a highrise in downtown Houston stood the studios of KXRV-TV, Houston’s News Leader. Broadcasting over-the-air on Channel 8, the station had a history of investigative reporting second to none in the Houston market. The most-watched local news channel in the area, it was a natural choice when someone wanted to go to the media for anything. Often, this was done by someone from the newsroom meeting the source to discuss the story and the news staffer deciding whether or not the story had enough teeth to make the news--not just any story would do. In rare cases, one of the station’s journalists would meet with a source, often a source they knew well, in a place of the source’s choosing providing it was safe for the journalist. Miguel Iglesias stood at the backdoor to the television studio which opened up into a parking garage. He received a text about 20 minutes earlier alerting him to what was described as a big news story. As he waited, a black Lexus LS pulled up. The tinted windows and ceiling of the garage were enough to obscure the driver as he arrived. The window rolled down and a manila folder was lifted outside of it. Miguel walked over and took the envelope. He opened it and looked through the contents quickly. He looked back up and the car was gone. As he continued to look through the documents, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Brock’s Bedroom | Friday 7 April 2023 | 22:30 CDT (GMT -5)

Down the hall from David’s Bedroom was Brock’s. Furnished with modern furniture and touches, the room’s color scheme was built around gray, white, and black. The low platform bed was white, as were the sheets. Wrapped around the bed widthwise was a gray top sheet which seemed like a sash or stripe across the mattress. Topped with numerous pillows, most of which were shams or throw pillows, all in black cases. The media desk was full black, as was the large gaming desktop system with three large screen monitors. The dresser, nightstands, and the large chest of drawers were all gray, as were the walls. The floor was white marble, with throw rugs under each piece of furniture. At the computer desk sat Brock as he continued researching ideas where to invest his money. On one screen were stock options, on the second were real estate opportunities, and on the third was a simple web browser with a movie streaming. An alert tone from his cell phone distracted him. The message stated that Club Alexander was going up for sale, but the owner, a close and personal friend of Brock, decided to tell him first.

Brock contemplated the message. The club was the focal point of the LGBT scene in downtown Houston housing over 10,000 square feet of dance space on the first floor, and four fully-stocked bars between both floors. The second floor operated more as a lounge where friends could gather and hang out. Plus couches and small tables gave patrons on the second level a feeling of almost being at home while at the club. As long as that home had several hundred of their closest friends. To Brock, this was a solid investment, something that wouldn’t consume that much of his inheritance as well as give him something to concentrate on besides clothes and popular music. Brock decided to call his friend.

“Pete? Hey!” Brock said. “Yeah, I just got it. So, tell me, what are you looking to sell it for?” Brock looked over the desk and found a piece of paper and a pencil. He jotted the number down. “So why are you selling it?”

“I’m retiring,” Pete said over the phone. “Taking Jason and we’re moving to Tahiti. If I sell the club, then I won’t have anything holding me back in this town anymore. I’ve been here for 50 years. Had a good time. Time to move on, my friend.”

“Hell yeah,” Brock said. “Don’t list the club just yet. Give me until tomorrow to speak with you. I have to run some numbers, but I don’t really see the asking price as a problem. Send over all the pertinent info and I’ll get back with you tomorrow, mkay?”

“Sure thing, Brock,” Pete said.

Brock then stood up and walked out of his room. Across the hallway was Brock’s bedroom. Brock knocked, and once granted entry, he stepped into his brother’s room. David was sitting on the bed with the local news on.

“Hey, Davy, got a call I want your advice on,” Brock said. “Got an option to maybe buy Club Alexander. I wanted you to look it over before I took it to Mama.”

David didn’t even look at Brock. Instead, he was fixated on the large flatscreen on the wall. David pointed, “Watch this.”

Brock perched himself on the end of the bed, looking at the television as David sat there salivating like a dog waiting on dinner.

“.... and to recap our breaking news, Texas State Senator Jack Coburn was accused of having inappropriate relations with someone he should have known better to stay away from in 1989. Recent investigative reporting from our very own Miguel Iglesias shows that the senator bribed the doctor to change the paternity on the form and that the senator is, in fact, the father of that child. That would mean that he was, in fact, guilty of statutory rape back in 1989 during his first campaign. KXRV will have more on this story as it develops.”

Brock looked at David, “Isn’t that that senator guy granddaddy knew really well?”

“That's nobody,” David said smiling. “Now, let me see this idea you’re talkin’ about.”

C L U B · A L E X A N D E R
Montrose, Houston, Texas | Saturday 8 April 2023 | 11:25 CDT (GMT -5)

The building that is Club Alexander started its life as a fruit and vegetable warehouse just west of Downtown Houston. Over the years its operations were consolidated and migrated away with the growth of agribusiness. The warehouse itself stood two stories tall, the largest portion of which was a fairly wide open 930 square meters (10,000 square feet) storage facility on the ground floor. On the second floor sat smaller offices for various functionaries of the original operation of the building. Upon its purchase in 1980 by the current owner, it was mostly abandoned and in a state of disrepair. Extensive renovation work began to convert the industrial facility into a large, prominent club in the heart of Houston’s Gayborhood, the center of the LGBT community in the region. The upstairs offices were converted into areas where performers could change, where bands could rehearse, and where the club’s central offices were located. On the ground floor, a large bar was established where patrons could buy whatever adult beverages they fancied, though the bulk of the ground floor was dedicated for dancing and mingling. Over the years, Club Alexander became the most prominent establishment in the gayborhood’s club scene. A stage was added after the first few years where drag shows, visiting DJs, and bands could perform for the huddled masses contained within. The interior was mostly painted in a mid gray, something to help keep the place dark enough for the laser light shows and the rotating colored lights that always adorned these establishments. The brainchild of Peter Henderson, Club Alexander became a dream realized. Now, 43 years after opening the doors to the hotspot, the time had come for him and his partner to retire and enjoy life.

Brock had made Peter’s acquaintance some time ago as a timid and shy 18 year old. The bar had become his local haunt as Brock never wanted to miss the main action. By his very presence, and his patronage, the bar sectioned off a portion of the dance floor as a VIP section, where bottle service was on offer. Being who he was, Brock never found himself at a lack of people to party with him on a night out. His bottle of choice, which was always reserved for him, was Dom Perignon. He lived by the belief that the bottles should always flow when he and his friend were in attendance. While he enjoyed the nightlife, he always kept himself somewhat apart from the sweaty, partying masses by rarely entertaining the notion of heading out onto the dance floor. The VIP section contained its own, much smaller dance floor. Access to the upstairs offices and dressing rooms were also part of his VIP treatment, an option given only to Brock. He knew the drag queens that called the bar their home. He knew the local DJs who mixed the latest and greatest dance tracks. Bands internationally famous and locally grown were granted a visit from Brock. By his friendship with Peter, Brock had gained an understanding not just of how a nightclub operated, but what the people wanted from it. So it came to no one’s surprise that when Peter wanted to sell, he would offer it first to Brock, then anyone else willing to pay for it. Brock pulled up in a chauffeur-driven luxury sedan wearing an ivory suit, white dress shirt without a tie, the top two buttons unbuttoned, a black pocket square with a three peak fold, and black dress shoes. He also sported sunglasses in spite of the overcast skies. Peter and his partner, Jason, greeted Brock with a kiss on each cheek and a bright smile.

“You look like a million dollars, Brock,” Pete said with a chuckle.

“A billion,” Brock said unironically.

“Well, if you’d like to come to my office, Brock. We can talk there.” Pete said. As he started to lead Brock and Jason inside, three work vans pulled up, all three with Devereaux Real Estate Holdings, LLC on the side, followed by a large, red pick-up truck out of which hopped David, wearing a simple outfit of a black suit, white shirt, black tie, with black shoes.

“What’s all that, Brock?” Jason asked.

“Just some contractors from the family business. You understand before I can buy it, it has to be inspected. It’s only proper,” Brock said.

“And who’s this dashing young man,” Peter said as he looked at David. Jason rolled his eyes in protest.

“You don’t know my brother?” Brock asked as he waved David over.

“Oh, this is your brother? Pleased to meet you, Mr. Devereaux,” Peter said with an extended hand.

“I’m sure,” David replied.

As the group began to migrate inside of the club to begin discussion of the details, the contractors began their work checking the building itself. While the electrics, the plumbing, the gas, can be inspected and repaired if needed without any issue, the building being 100 years old meant that the structural integrity of the building needed to be guaranteed. The last thing the Devereaux family would ever want is some disaster at some point in the future where a weakened building collapsed killing hundreds of Houston’s 20-somethings. That kind of publicity would never do.

Peter’s office was a rather small room, big enough for him and a desk and three other people to sit without feeling crowded, but beyond that any more people would begin to make even the least claustrophobic feel cramped. The desk was overall clean, apart from some documents prepared by Peter’s lawyer that were awaiting both parties to make the sale. A small computer on the desk was pushed to the side by the wall, the old tower system making Brock blink at it twice as he wondered if it still worked. Brock took the seat to the left of Peter while David took the seat to his right. A moment later, a man in a gray business suit, carrying a briefcase, entered the room, the bespectacled gentleman adjusting his glasses on his nose as he came to a standing rest beside Peter.

“So, as we talked about, it’s up for sale to you for 2.5 million,” Pete said as he flipped open the document in front of him, took his pen, and hovered it over the papers. “All you have to do is sign where your name is and this gentleman, my lawyer, Lenny, will make it all official.”

“That’s a pretty penny for this old building,” David said. Peter looked over at Brock. Brock was simply sitting there, sunglasses still on, and motionless.

Brock turned towards David, “Anything to add?”

“It’s your cash, little brother,” David said, “But I wouldn’t pay a penny above 1.75 for this place, and that’s without hearin’ back from my guys yet.”

Peter nearly fell out of his chair at the mention of 1.75 million dollars. “It’s more than just a building. For the past 4 decades, I’ve hosted the LGBT community and turned it into *the* hotspot for our community. Now, you’re saying it isn’t worth what it’s worth? Who do you think you are?”

“I’m sorry,” David said, tilting his head slightly to the side. He tempered himself in the moment, knowing well that this wasn’t his deal. He was just here to speak up when asked and then leave well enough alone--and that would be hard enough to do for him, well, ever. “My little brother asked for my opinion, and I gave it. No hard feelings were meant.”

“Two,” Brock said, reaching into his interior pocket and producing his checkbook. “Two million.”

Peter sighed, looked over at his lawyer Lenny, who bobbed his head from side to side as if watching a tennis match. Then he shrugged at Peter. “It’s a good enough deal.”

“Very well,” Peter said, feeling outnumbered and outgunned, especially with David staring him down over the desk. “Two million dollars.”

Brock wrote the check, signed the documents, and he and David left. Lenny took the documents from the table and stuffed them in his briefcase.

G O L D M A N · L A W F I R M
Houston, Texas | Saturday 8 April 2023 | 16:52 CDT (GMT -5)

Lenny Goldman sat at his desk staring at his phone. With each passing moment, a few more beads of sweat formed on his head. He fidgeted with his watch, then his phone, then his tie, then his stained coffee mug. He kept wondering when the phone call was going to come. He decided to take matters into his own hands. As he proceeded to call the contact he was waiting for, his office door opened and David walked through the door. He walked over to Lenny’s desk, sat down, and put his feet up on it.

“Mr. Devereaux, what a pleasant surprise!” Lenny said with relief.

“Leonard, now that’s somethin’ I don’t hear everyday,” David said with a smile. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small packet of paper that had been folded lengthwise to fit. He held it up momentarily, then tossed the packet onto Lenny’s desk. Lenny grabbed it, his hands shaking slightly as he raced to open the document. He scanned it until he saw the words he was looking for: paid in full.

“Thank you, Mr. Devereaux.” Lenny said.

“That’s alright, Leonard,” David said. “Anyone who helps out ol’ Brock makes me happy, and I’m a generous sort of fella when I’m happy.”

by **Grand California** » Tue Apr 18, 2023 2:20 pm

D E V E R E A U X · T O W E R
600 Travis Street, Houston, Texas | Monday 10 April 2023 | 10:37 CDT (GMT -5)

The Boardroom at Devereaux Tower sat on the 75th floor. The room consisted of a large black table in a convex shape. On both sides of the table sat 10 high-back, black leather chairs with the most supple leather and unquestioned comfortable padding, the chair filled with the various board members save for one conspicuously empty chair.. In the center of the boardroom table sat a row of small green plants. At the far end of the table sat Nanette’s chair, a larger version of the 20 other chairs already in the room. Opposite her stood a wall with a massive 85 inch flatscreen television, which when not being used to presentations held a rotating slideshow of the various properties and industries which were under the Devereaux umbrella. To Nanette’s right were a row of windows overlooking Houston, a vantage point from which one could see for miles and miles. To her left was a large wall of glass separating the boardroom from the hallway which included a set of heavy glass double doors which managed to close softly and form a seal from which very little, if any, sound could escape. The large windows bathed the room in bright light while in the ceiling was recessed lighting and a large chandelier for those late evening meetings. Nanette watched as the hands were raised and her secretary took down the votes in favor of the current motion. 19-0 was the vote, with Nanette only having a vote if the board were deadlocked.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Nanette said with a smile, “I see we are unanimous in the vote today. I’m very pleased we were able to come to this conclusion today.” She then turned to her secretary. “Will you call him in, please?”

The secretary stood up from her perch off in the corner of the room and politely stepped outside of the boardroom. A moment later she reappeared with David in tow. She opened the door for David who stepped into the boardroom and stood at the far end of the table in front of the large screen television opposite Nanette.

“David,” Nanette began, “it is my esteemed pleasure to announce to you that the Board and I have agreed that you have performed above and beyond the last few years. Your insights and knack have carried Devereaux Industries into new areas of development allowing our company to expand far beyond that which my father ever dreamed. Therefore, on behalf of the Board, I would like to congratulate you on your promotion to Chief Operating Officer.” The board members began to applaud, then turned it into a standing ovation.

David’s face absolutely beamed, nearly blinding everyone in the room with pride. The various board members then began to walk over and shake David’s hand one by one. A few of the older ones who had been on the board for years also gave him a few pats on the back, with one fellow, a rather large man with a big pot belly and a western-style suit patting David’s shoulder so hard, he nearly knocked him down. One by one the board members departed, their job for the day completed. David walked over towards Nanette who was still seated. She stood up from her chair. With a gracious push she slid the chair in position against the desk, then gave her son a kiss on the cheek. It was the most motherly gesture in her personality. She absolutely loved her children, but never quite showed it outwardly.

“David, starting tomorrow I want you to shadow me. We will be working quite closely from now on. Also, you will be getting Stanley’s old office, the one next to mine.”

“Stanley?” David asked with a grin.

Nanette shook her head, “Stanley. The gentleman who held your position before he was poached by Cisco.” David rolled his eyes and began to follow his mother as she progressed out of the boardroom. “Be at my office at 10:30 tomorrow morning. We have a lot to go over. I want you to know how very proud of you I am. I won’t be home for dinner tonight. I have a late meeting with our Hong Kong offices. I need a list of names for your replacement on my desk by next Monday as well. We will be issuing a statement about your promotion, so be prepared. The business channels might want interviews.”

“Yes, Mama,” David said, still beaming.

C L U B · A L E X A N D E R
Montrose, Houston, Texas | Monday 10 April 2023 | 15:48 CDT (GMT -5)

The warehouse which housed the club buzzed with activity. Contractors inside had dismantled just about everything they could to begin the rehabilitation of the building. In the small office upstairs, Brock sat at the desk, reviewing blueprints. As he stared at the blueprints, he considered the plans for the new look and feel of the club. His face was a bit scrunched as he scratched his head. The bar was on the wrong side of the club, the stage was being moved somewhere new, and he had no idea what some of the symbols even meant. The head contractor, Adam Campbell, stepped into the office, his hard hat on, his booth dirty from the dust and debris such undertakings created.

“Have you decided?” Adam asked.

“I don’t understand,” Brock said, “this whole thing seems different than what we discussed.” Brock pointed at the blueprints, particularly where the bar was to be located. “Did I miss something?”

Adam walked over and stood next to Brock. He grabbed the blueprints and flipped them around. All of a sudden, Brock’s face turned slightly red. “Is that better?” Adam asked as he tried not to chuckle, but failed.

Brock turned his head towards Adam, a sheepish grin on his face. “I’m so out of it, Adam. I’ve been here since 7 this morning and it’s... I don’t even know what time.”

“Maybe you just need a break,” Adam said. “And a drink.”

“Man, a drink sounds really good right now.” Brock said. “Too bad the bar’s in like a million pieces right now.”

“I know this little place a few blocks from here. It’s kind of a hole in the wall, but the drinks are strong and they serve a pretty mean barbecue.” Adam said.

Adam leaned over and began to roll up the plans. Brock noticed Adam’s calloused hands. The way the veins on his arms seemed to stand out. Not to mention the fact Adam’s polo shirt seemed intentionally one size too small for Adam’s frame. As Adam put the rolled blueprints under his arm, he watched with joy as he began to walk away.

“Hey,” Brock said as Adam reached the office door. “I hate going to new places alone. Would you... care to join me? My treat?”

Adam smiled, “I mean, I would love to, but I have work to do.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess you do,” Brock said, a slight shot of embarrassment running through his body. He laughed slightly.

Adam paused, tapping the rolled blueprints slightly, his blue eyes quickly looking back at Brock as if his brain was calculating something. “Meet you there at around 7?” Adam said, a slight smile appearing on his face.

Brock tried not to seem too excited, but his eyes betrayed him, “Sure.”

T U M B L E W E E D
Houston, Texas | Monday 10 April 2023 | 19:08 CDT (GMT -5)

Adam stood outside the bar, his coveralls and hard hat traded for a pair of jeans, cowboy boots, a flannel shirt, and a black cowboy hat. His hair, which had been tucked up in his hard hat earlier, was now hanging, its curly locks brushing against his shoulder. He stood against the wall, his one leg kicked back, boot against the wall. He looked down. About as conspicuously inconspicuous as he could be. In the near distance stood the towering canyon that was Midtown Houston, the skyscrapers casting long shadows over everything below. Brock stood in stark contrast to his drinking companion. A solid gold rolex with diamond chips on his slender wrist meeting the end of his light gray business suit. The dark blue tie cast the only hint of color on the outfit as it sat against his white dress shirt. The black dress shoes were shined, reflecting the specks of light glinting through the concrete jungle as the sun slowly began to push towards its bedtime. He peeled off his black sunglasses and tucked them in his interior suit coat pocket as he walked up to the bar. He almost passed right by Adam until he noticed Adam’s blue eyes staring at him from under his hat.

“Oh god,” Brock said, “I’m going to stick out in there, aren’t I?”

Adam chuckled, “A little, yeah. It’s alright, though. Place could use a bit more class.” Adam gestured towards the door. Brock started to walk towards it, Adam pulled it open. The moment the door opened, the country music came pouring out in a torrent of sound. Brock gave a quick eye roll to Adam. Adam shook his head slightly as a playful smile filled his face.

Inside, the bar held fast and true to every single stereotype about Texas. Texas-shaped wood carvings, the Texas state flag, pictures of cowboys and ranches. The floor was unfinished wood, covered in places with peanuts. The patrons all seemed like they stepped foot off of a postcard or a TV ad for the state. There were some looks as Brock entered. Then as Adam filed in behind, the stares dropped. One thing that struck Brock as he entered, there were no women. Not even a butch lesbian. The bartenders, all in their cowboy motifs, seemed like cover models in disguise.

“I’ve never heard of this place, let alone seen anything like it,” Brock said.

“Did some work here a few months back. Built that whole section over there with the mechanical bull.” Adam said.

“Quaint,” Brock said as Adam escorted him to an open table. Brock took the dark blue pocket square from his pocket and went to dust off the seat, but the stare of a rather fuzzy gentleman who looked as if he could eat a horse in one bite told him he’d better just sit. Lawson could have it dry cleaned.

“I know this ain’t your kind of place,” Adam said, “But, you’ll like the food here. I’d wear a napkin over those clothes, though. They’re pretty generous when it comes to the sauce.”

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Monday 10 April 2023 | 19:45 CDT (GMT -5)

As Lawson took David’s suit from his room to put it on the rack to be sent to the dry cleaners, David busied himself at his laptop. He put a flash drive into the USB port and opened the folder. Jackie’s research into Sen. Jackson was there. Mostly, the file contained newspaper articles about her and her family, achievements from her previous stint on the San Antonio city council, and her love of fried foods. David scanned each article, his eyes looking for something, anything that could give him some sort of a clue of a scandal or some sort of event that he could use as leverage. What he found was nothing he could use. He sighed. The last thing David liked was an honest politician. The surface trawl for dirt on Sen. Jackson had done nothing, but there were deeper dives which could be undertaken.

The internet of things always provided an answer. While the average person might want to run a background search on someone using one of the myriad of pay-per-file websites, David used a particular website which was primarily for law enforcement. How he got access to such a website stemmed from a crooked cop David used to have on the payroll, until the cop turned out to be a degenerate gambler and lost everything--including his job--by filling the coffers of the Las Vegas branch of his father’s family. The bureaucrats in power were always slow to deactivate these types of accounts--if they ever remembered at all. At least the police were always willing to entertain their incompetence at some level. A search of the database only provided two hits: an unpaid parking ticket and an overdue library book.

David closed his laptop and took a deep breath.

T U M B L E W E E D
Houston, Texas | Monday 10 April 2023 | 20:34 CDT (GMT -5)

The suit coat sat on the back of Brock’s chair, his seat empty along with his plate. Beside the plate sat a tall glass full of diet cola, about half drank with ice melting rapidly. As the more face-paced and modern country song played over the bar’s audio system, Brock stood at the edge of the mechanical bull stage watching as Adam rode the bull. Something about that triggered a little something inside of Brock. With each motion and jerk of the mechanical bull, Adam’s smooth movements and ability to remain upright grew more impressive. Man and machine merged into one, each one seemingly feeding off of the other. Adam took his hat and held it in his hand above his head as the machine reached the final seconds of its thrashing. Adam remained in place, a confident smile and bright eyes beaming right at Brock. And then, with the sound of a bell, the machine fell motionless, depressed at being conquered. The bar erupted in applause and Adam took his victory lap around the pen, nodding his head.

“Consider me impressed,” Brock said, a slight grin on his face. “I could never do anything like that. I’d be tossed off of it in a second flat.”

“Just need some practice,” Adam said with a wink.

Brock checked his watch, the time pushing closer and closer to 9pm. “I have a really long day tomorrow, Adam. I think I need to get going soon.” Brock walked back to the table with Adam beside him. He grabbed his suit coat from the back of his chair and put it on, then reached into his pocket to hand his credit card to the lovely young man who’d served them their drinks and dinner. Adam pushed Brock’s hand away and pulled out some cash and handed it to the server.

“I’ll be right back with your change,” he said.

“Keep it,” Adam said.

“I said this was my treat,” Brock said.

“You know, I was wondering if you might want to come back to my place for another drink,” Adam said as he put his hand on the side of Brock’s arm. He began to gently rub, which caused Brock’s skin to break out in goosebumps. Brock’s breathing got faster, he felt flush, and his mouth went dry. They stood there, Adam looked up into Brock’s eyes. “Though I understand if you can’t.”

Brock smiled back, “Well, what’s another drink?”

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas |Tuesday 11 April 2023 | 07:45 CDT (GMT -5)

David sat in his usual chair at the dining room table wearing a tank top and a pair of gym shorts. His plate piled with fresh fruits and some yogurt. Before him was the normal array of breakfast food whipped up by the house staff: pancakes, bacon, eggs, fruits, yogurt, and sausages, plus a few croissants. Hot coffee sat in a silver coffee pot, apple juice and orange juice in ceramic pitchers also awaited the hungry household. On a normal day, David would be the last to appear at the table, preferring instead to do his morning workout in the manor’s gym, then head off to work functioning on nothing more than caffeine obtained from a quick pour of coffee from the table and pure adrenaline. Sometimes, though, one has to eat breakfast. Nanette slept in, her calls with Asia taking particularly longer than normal. Plus, Brock was nowhere to be seen.

“Quiet morning,” Lawson said as he offered to pour David another cup of coffee. “Glad to see you this morning, Master David.”

As David continued munching on some strawberries, he just glanced up at Lawson and nodded. After swallowing his bite he asked, “Where’s Brock?”

“Master Brock did not return last night,” Lawson said. “When I went to wake him up, his bed had not been slept in.”

At that moment the door to the dining room opened, Brock popped in and grabbed a banana from the stack of fruit. He was still wearing the suit from yesterday, but the tie was tucked inside his trouser pocket. He whistled a happy tune as he began to peel the banana, then sat down to take a plate and grab some eggs. As he did, he looked at David, who had stopped in mid-chew, staring at him with a curious grin.

“What?” Brock said as he prepared to eat the banana.

“Where the hell were you?” David asked.

“Learning how to ride a mechanical bull,” Brock said as if this was a normal occurrence.

David raised an eyebrow, then sat his slice of cantaloupe down on the plate and shook his head, “I bet,” he said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Hush, Davy,” Brock said, the smile only growing wider. “You know, I think I’ll finish this in my bedroom.” Brock started to walk towards the staircase to head upstairs. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he once more began to whistle.

David looked over at Lawson, who simply smiled back, “More coffee, Master David?”

F E D E R A L · C O U R T H O U S E
Austin, Texas | Tuesday 11 April 2023 | 09:35 CDT (GMT -5)

Occupying an entire square block in central Austin stood the modernist Federal Courthouse of Grand California. The building itself was relatively new, having been built in 2012. Its exterior consisted of banded limestone, steel, and narrow, multi storey glazing. Inside sat 8 courtrooms and ten judge’s chambers. The interior design employed wood paneling in a calming and warm pecan color, the windows allow abundant daylight to flood the inside. The use of glass inside to divide some rooms also allowed the daylight to penetrate far into the building’s interior. On the ground floor sat a two-storey lobby which is connected to an atrium with a large window giving visitors a view of downtown Austin to the east and the Texas hill country to the west. Inside one of the jury rooms sat disgraced soon-to-be former state Senator Jack Coburn. To his right sat his attorney, to his left his son, Little Jack Coburn (known as LJ). Across from him sat the Federal District Attorney for Austin, Carol Downing and her paralegal. In front of Ms. Downing sat a stack of papers in a navy blue padded folder, which she handed to Sen. Coburn’s lawyer, who simply opened the folder and pulled from within it a single piece of paper. He handed the paper to Sen. Coburn.

“Counselor,” the FDA said, “as you are aware, we have offered this deal to your client to spare him the possibility of spending the next 20 years in jail. Understanding your client’s age and potential for this to become an unintentional life sentence, we reiterate our deal that if he pleads guilty today, we will push for the shortest term under the law, which is three years, after which he will be released on parole for a further three. If your client signs, we will submit this to Judge Haggerty and spare the Senator from a lengthy trial.”

“Jack,” his lawyer said, but Sen. Coburn stopped him.

“Gimme that pen,” Jack said as he pointed to his lawyer’s pen. The lawyer handed him the pen and Sen. Coburn signed the plea deal. “There. It’s done.” Sen. Coburn’s lawyer handed the document and the folder back to the FDA.

“Thank you.” DA Downing took the agreement and returned it to the folder, then she and her paralegal stood up and left the room.

“Hank, can you give me and my boy a few minutes?” Sen. Coburn asked. The lawyer nodded and extended his hand to the senator, who reluctantly shook it. Then the lawyer left.
“Dad,” LJ said, shaking his head. “We might have gotten you off, now you’re stuck.”

“Look,” Sen. Coburn said, “I did what. I ain’t proud of it. But, guess that doesn't matter now.”

“She was 15, Dad,” LJ said, embarrassed. “I just wanna know how everyone found out. Why now, why not then?”

“I wanted to be a senator, LJ. And that would have absolutely stopped any chance. I called my old friend to handle it. He gave me a big briefcase full of cash and told me to go see his doctor. So I did just that. He took the briefcase and changed the paternity on the form. That’s all it was. I lived with guilt every damn day.”

“Don’t sound like a friend to me,” LJ said. “Who was it?”

“Edward Devereaux,” Sen. Coburn said. “I guess when I couldn’t get that vote to go his way, David turned it into the press.”

LJ paused, his mind racing at the mention of the name David Devereaux. He balled his fists and pounded the table. Then he stood up so fast the chair nearly fell backwards. “That son of a bitch.”

H A T H A W A Y · P R E P A R A T O R Y · S C H O O L
Houston, Texas | Thursday 16 October 2015 | 12:32 CDT (GMT -5)

As he walked the row of lockers, he felt his foot hit something causing him to trip and fall to the ground, the books tucked under his arm spreading out like water. Brock turned his head and noticed “Little” Jack (known as LJ) Coburn standing there laughing. He picked himself off of the floor and started to collect his books. As he did, LJ knocked them out of his hand. Brock shot up, his eyes swimming with rage, his fists clenched. He’d had enough. In a fluid motion, he landed a punch right on LJ’s right jaw. The feeling of his jaw bone smashing into his knuckles stung. He shook the sensation out of his hand. LJ was still laughing, but it changed. From the laughter of someone happy to that of someone ready to accept a challenge. Zachary’s fist smashed into Brock’s face, LJ’s bony knuckles pushing in like a knife. His face turned sharply. His eyes flashed in brilliant, painful white. Kapow, another punch, this time in Brock’s nose. Shortly thereafter, he could taste the unmistakable metallic taste of blood. Brock hit the ground in a heap. As he writhed in pain, he felt the pointed toes of dress shoes forcefully piercing his side. Kick after kick after kick. The smell of sweat and blood flooded his nose. The sounds of other kids around him, the thumping of LJ kicking him, and even Brock’s own thoughts sounded as if he were listening through a tin can. As LJ went in for one last blow, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Before LJ could see who it was, he felt the crack of a fist in his mouth. Bam, another in his ribs. The constant, consistent, continuous crashing of fists pounding and pulverizing LJ’s body relentlessly continued until he finally received the hardest, angriest punch directly in the right side of his face causing his head to smash against the locker, the crackle of skin and bones against the aluminum door like a cymbal. LJ’s motionless body lay on top of itself, collapsed like a folding chair. Then, the man who’d come to Brock’s rescue extended his hand to help Brock up. Brock took the hand and pulled himself up. He wiped the blood from his face and the tears from his eyes with his shirt, now fully pulled out from his belt.

LJ moaned slightly, his eyes opening back up.

“If you ever hurt my little brother again, I’ll fucking bury you, Coburn,” David shouted. Then he put Brock’s arm around his neck, evacuating him like a wounded soldier from a battlefield. In the aftermath, a throng of teachers flooded the hallway escorting children back into their classrooms while school administrators began to sort out the problem at hand. Parents were informed, meetings scheduled, and punishments handed down. For David, the punishment was a two-week suspension and then a return under probation requiring him to be an exemplary student for the rest of the semester. For LJ, the verdict rendered was expulsion.

F E D E R A L · C O U R T H O U S E
Austin, Texas | Tuesday 11 April 2023 | 09:55 CDT (GMT -5)

The bailiffs entered the room to escort Sen. Coburn to court. He stood up, took a deep sign, hugged his boy, then followed the men out of the room. LJ started to follow, but stopped for a moment to stare out of the window.

“I’m gonna fuck your world up, Devereaux,” LJ said to his own reflection in the window.

by **Grand California** » Sun Apr 23, 2023 4:49 pm

H I L T O N
Houston, Texas | Saturday 15 April 2023 | 19:02 CDT (GMT -5)

Everyone had an angle, that much was true no matter who they were. In David’s world, his goal was to figure out that angle. He believed that in doing so, he had the power to exploit their angle. For some, the angle was simply to find their foot on the corporate ladder and climb their way up. Others were looking for fame and fortune. There were those true souls, too. Their angle was their altruistic charm. By giving to whatever sob-story-hard-luck case they championed, they, too, could be bent to his will. Take, for example, the preacher on Sunday morning. His angle was selling stories to get people to believe in a god--whichever version of god they were selling at that particular church--and in so doing, the people would become another person in a pew on Sunday morning putting their hard-earned money in the offering plate. For some churches, this was more than a simple congregation in an old stone church. The Megachurches were nothing more than corporations where the preachers went far more than just helping the homeless and saving souls. They lined their pockets to power their private airplanes and stuff their multi-million-dollar mansions. Then there were the TV preachers, the ones whose Megachurches were the thousands--or millions--of people watching. These Men of God--so they claimed--could easily be bought. Donate to their church and suddenly you have influence over them. Not that David gave a plug nickel to any church, but he knew how to keep a few of the powerful preachers in his back pocket. You never know when they’re going to come in handy. That, and few wanted their congregants to know about their girls and boys on the side. Politicians were another group with an angle. Their angle was always the next election and how to win it. To win an election took money and sometimes this meant having rich backers to pay for the advertisements and the campaign events to get the politician’s message out to the voters. It was in this that David formulated a plan to get in good with Sen. Jackson. While David didn’t live in San Antonio, he could absolutely buy airtime down there since one of the networks owned by Pacific Communications owned a local TV station there.

With a quick email to the Senator, he awaited her response. He would include almost no details in the email. It would be quite foolish on his part to write the things we was talking about down where any snooping reporter or hacker could discover it. He didn’t want Sen. Jackson to go down like that--at least not yet anyway. The goal was to work the angle that she had to run again next year and, by all accounts, the potential party challenger was a very popular former mayor of San Antonio. With David’s help, she would absolutely crush that opponent and win her nomination again. And in San Antonio, it was a sure-fire bet that the progressive candidates would win in the city limits. The response came roughly an hour after David reached out. Her reply contained a few questions, the most important of which is that she could not be swayed on her decision regarding the oil contract no matter what he was going to offer and that she had no idea why he would even be interested in talking about a race in a city where he didn’t live. However, she was interested in hearing what he had to say. So a meeting was arranged for Sen. Jackson and David to meet in Houston. In David’s mind, all he had to do was hit her with a better proposal than previously. He would, in true David Devereaux fashion, link the acceptance of the proposal to any and all assistance in her reelection in the next cycle. She would get a fully-funded campaign through the various sources David had at his disposal and she would get a contract that saved Texas money.

A win-win situation if David ever heard of one.

“What’s the catch,” Sen. Jackson said as she sipped another glass of very expensive champagne.

“Catch, Senator?” David said, “There’s no catch. You just go on and approve this here proposal, keep that contract with my family, and I’ll flood your campaign with so much cash you’re not gonna know what to do with it all.”

“Mr. Devereaux--David--I’m sure you’re aware you carry a certain reputation, not just in Houston, but in Austin as well. I don’t know if I want my campaign to get into bed with you, so to speak.”

David chuckled, “Well, I reckon an intermediary could be set up between us which would keep my alleged reputation from gettin’ near yours.”

The senator took another sip, “Give me 24 hours to think about, okay?”

“Sure ‘nuff,” David said with a slight smile as he took another drink of his glass of bourbon.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Friday 14 April 2023 | 23:45 CDT (GMT -5)

The rhythmic knock meant only one person could be at the door. Brock put his cell phone down and hopped off of his bed and walked to the door. Opening it, David stood there smiling with two mugs in his hand. He handed one to Brock and then entered the room. David sat down in Brock’s computer chair, placing his mug a safe distance away from the electronics on the desk. Brock sat perched on the edge of his bed, the mug being placed down on the nightstand beside the bed. He took a sip and gave David a pensive look.

“What’s wrong?” Brock asked.

“Nothing,” David said as he took a sip from his mug.

“The last time you brought me a cup of tea, you told me about Grandpa passing. The time before that, Duke had died. So, who died?”

David shook his head, “Brock, no one died. I’m just curious about somethin’.”

Brock took a sip of his tea, then placed the mug back town on the nightstand with a determined thud causing a few drops of tea to spill over the lip of the mug and streak down the sides until they formed a small ring around the base. David, upon hearing the thud, looked up at the ceiling, his lips narrowing as he did. Brock then flopped backwards onto his bed, took one of the pillows from the head of the bed, put it over his own mouth and sighed deeply.

“I don’t want a lecture, Davy,” Brock said as he removed the pillow from over his face. “I don’t need one, okay? It’s not gonna be like last time.....”

“Or the time before that, or before that, and on and on,” David said, interrupting.

Brock shot David a dirty look, then looked up at the ceiling.

David stood up and walked over to Brock’s bed. He flopped backwards, nearly landing on Brock, but missing him by a few inches. Brock bounced slightly. As he did he removed the pillow and laughed. “Jesus Christ, Davy. What are you, twelve?”

“You know I’m gonna ask you about him, might as well spill it,” David said.

Brock looked up at the ceiling. In his mind, he could see Adam’s face, clear as a bell. He fixated on Adam’s face, the smile getting so bright it nearly burned a hole in the ceiling. Brock gripped the pillow and held it so tight the pillow nearly exploded at both ends as he thought about holding Adam. The ceiling dissolved into Adam’s home, a simple home for a simple man. He remembered the first night together, from how Adam’s stubble felt across his cheek when they hugged to the intensity of their kisses. It wasn’t until David’s voice calling his name began to break the mirage that Brock snapped back into reality.

“He’s the contractor doing the work on the club. Adam Campbell. He’s so sweet and funny, Davy. Like, he just makes me feel kind of... well... happy. And he won’t let me pay for anything, either.” Brock said.

David guffawed, “Goddamn, Brock, now that fella sounds like a keeper to me.”

“Rude,” Brock said. “It’s always about money with you.”

“We ain’t like other people. Hell, we ain’t like other rich people either. You gotta protect yourself. You were always too trustin’.”

“Here we go, the world according to David Devereaux,” Brock complained. Then, he put on a thick, fake Texas accent as he continued, “People are gonna steal from ya, boy. Ya hear me, boy? Them varmints ain’t gonna stop until they get all they want from ya, then they’re just gonna leave you and move on. Ya can’t trust no one because everyone’s got an angle.”

“Now I don’t really sound like that, do I?” David said with a laugh. Then he took a deep breath, “Okay, I get it. I get it. This one’s different, so you intimate. And, I guess I have to trust you on that.”

“Thank you,” Brock said. He sat up in bed and cocked his head ever so slightly and raised his eyebrows. “Maybe Adam should come over for dinner so you two can meet. But, promise me you won’t get... how you get, okay, Davy? I like him. I don’t want you to chase him away.”

“Fine,” David said.

“If that was supposed to reassure me, it didn’t. I know you too well,” Brock said. “I want you to swear to me you won’t interfere. I need to hear you say it.”

David’s eyes darted around the room as he clenched his jaw. “Fine, I promise I will not interfere.”

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Saturday 15 April 2023 | 01:27 CDT (GMT -5)

David opened his laptop and began typing. In the search bar he typed, “Adam Campbell, contractor.” Several hits popped up, the first one being for Campbell Construction Group. With a tap of the trackpad David popped open the website and took a look around. The dark background with light text seemed to come from one of those websites where you pay so much a month and you have access to thousands of templates. Nothing special about it. A picture of Adam stood out on the front page. Wearing his polo shirt and khaki pants, he smiled in front of a half-built home with a large backhoe off to the side. Under the photo was a quote, “We do it right the first time, every time.” How cute, David thought. After checking around the website for a few more moments, he returned to the search results. A couple of hits on Instagram for Adam Campbell, he clicked on a few until he found a personal account for Brock’s burgeoning boyfriend. Another boring, common social media feed of random pictures of Adam’s construction projects in various states of completion along with some pictures of him at various functions around Houston. There was even a picture of him with the mayor. All very pedestrian to David. Then he saw it. The bio. Adam was 31 years old. David closed the laptop and shook his head.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Saturday 15 April 2023 | 09:25 CDT (GMT -5)

The next morning, David entered the dining room. Brock was sitting at the table wearing a silk, sapphire blue robe while politely munching on a strip of bacon while with his other hand he stirred his coffee. David sat down across from Brock, took a plate, and put a few strips of bacon on it and some scrambled eggs. He grabbed the tabasco sauce from the table and shook it over his eggs until they were about how he liked them. Then he looked over at Brock.

“Morning, Davy,” Brock said.

“Hey,” David said as he held up his coffee cup. Lawson walked over and poured the piping hot coffee into the cup. David sat it down on its saucer and took a sip. No cream, no sugar. Just black. “Your new beau is 31, I see.”

Brock put the strip of bacon down on the plate and flashed a dirty look at David, “You promised no meddling.”

David took a bite of his eggs, “Not meddling. Just research.”

“Whatever you call it, it feels like meddling to me, Davy. Just stop,” Brock said. “I know he’s 31. I know he’s divorced. I know it all, Davy.”

David’s ears tingled when he heard Brock mention Adam was divorced. This bit of information never showed up in his surface scan for all things Adam Campbell. He shook his head, returned to his breakfast, and tried not to say anything--of course, he couldn’t let that go without saying anything. Not only was the guy older, he was already married once. Not something David wanted to learn about first thing in the morning, particularly a Saturday morning and a Saturday morning when, in fact, the caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet. “This just got better, little brother. Can’t wait to meet this fella.” He said sarcastically.

“Lawson, may I have some more coffee, please?” Brock asked, ignoring David. Lawson took the solid silver coffee pot and poured Brock some more. Brock took three lumps of sugar from the table, dropped them into the cup en masse, then stirred. He took the pitcher of cream and poured it until the coffee became a mid beige.

David drained his cup, the caffeine buzz absolutely needed for the day. Then he held it up again until Lawson came around and filled it back up. David looked up at Brock, staring him right in the eyes. Then he took the cup and drank some more coffee as he toyed with his cellphone.

“Okay,” Brock said, “say what you want to say, Davy.” Brock’s eyes looked straight up at the ceiling as he awaited the verbal barrage.

“He’s divorced?” David said, his fingers drumming on the table as he peered over at Brock. Brock shifted slightly, David’s piercing gaze feeling like lasers aimed straight at him. Brock then returned to drinking coffee and finishing up his breakfast. David, for his part, kept staring. Every single time Brock looked over towards his brother, he was staring. Sip of coffee, still staring. Bite of eggs, still staring. Brock took a deep breath and smiled back.

“Right,” Brock said as he stood up in a huff, rolling his eyes, “Davy, it’s been a pleasure. I have to get down to the club to see where we’re at. I trust you’ll keep your promise. Adam and I should be here around 7, okay?”

David kept staring, his eyes following Brock as he stood up from the table and walked out through the small door towards David’s left into the hallway and towards the staircase.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Saturday 15 April 2023| 19:02 CDT (GMT -5)

The pickup truck pulled up to the house. Adam looked around at the massive size and scope of the property. Stepping out of the truck while one of the staff went to park it for him, he stood and absorbed the French neoclassical design, the columns outside supporting the protected portion of the driveway, and the double doors which opened into the home. The palatial elegance of the architecture also made him wonder just what exactly he was getting himself into with Brock. He knew, like most people, what the Devereaux name meant and that they were, for lack of a better term, filthy rotten rich. The monument to this fact which seemed to expand forever before him made him feel something unusual. The self-doubt began to creep into his mind. Would a guy like him be enough for Brock? Could a guy who could have everything he could possibly want be satisfied with a blue-collar business owner who came home smelling like dirt and sweat? And what about the rest of the family? Would they--could they--accept someone who wasn’t like them? Then the front door opened and Brock came bounding out of the house, his favorite blue suit fitting him like a finely-tailored glove. The sparkle in Brock’s eye, the bright white smile, the arms opening wide as he practically ran towards Adam refilled the confidence he’d lost momentarily. Especially when Brock’s arms wrapped around him and their lips touched.

“Are you ready?” Brock said as he chuckled, leaning back slightly in Adam’s arms.

Adam’s brow furrowed slightly, “Ready? For what?”

At that moment, David appeared at the door. The trademark smile plastered across his face, he stepped outside buttoning the top button on his charcoal gray designed suit coat. His silk dress shirt with diamond-studded cufflinks was left unbuttoned by his neck, the top two open as he opted to go for that relaxed but filthy rich look. He stepped out of the door with grace and dignity, his blonde hair dancing in the light evening breeze. He extended his hand as he approached. Brock stepped aside as Adam buttoned his sport jacket and extended his hand.

“You must be David,” Adam said with a polite grin.

“Adam,” David said as he shook his hand. “You a bourbon man?”

Adam nodded slightly, “Nothing like a good bourbon.”

David motioned towards the staff member at the door. In his hands was a solid silver tray with two glasses of bourbon and a rum and coke for Brock. The young man in a light gray suit vest, matching tie and pants with a white shirt walked over and offered the three men their drinks. David escorted them into the house.

Adam began to absorb the sheer amount of opulence surrounding him. A double-height marble rotunda with Romanesque sculptures standing in little displays, the marble floors, the columns that lined the hallways to the various wings. Crossing the rotunda, he was escorted to a large, open room with sheer drapes filtering the waning sunlight. Plush couches in white surrounded a large coffee table. An arrangement of flowers from the property’s garden shared their fiery oranges and calming blues. Brock took Adam’s arm and escorted him to a couch on the right of the room while David made himself comfortable on the couch opposite. Brock sat, his legs crossed over his kneecap, dangling down. Adam crossed his ankle over the kneecap. David sat forward a bit on the couch, leaning forward as he honed in on Adam. Adam, for his part, held his glass up towards David, smiled, and took a sip.

“Damn fine glass of bourbon,” Adam said as he looked at the dark brown tincture reflecting in the crystal lowball glass.

“It’s a special blend,” David said, “our own private label. Best damn bourbon I ever drank.” David slid back slightly, relaxing his pose as he took a sip.

“Davy would drink it all day if he could,” Brock said, taking a polite sip from his rum and coke.

“So,” David said, taking one more sip, “Ol’ Brock here tells me you’re divorced.”

Adam nearly choked at the word divorced. Brock flashed evil eyes at David, then began to speak, Adam put his hand on top of Brock’s to calm him down. “It’s okay. I guess I’d have to explain that at some point.” Adam looked over at David, locking his eyes on David’s. “Well, I tried to kind of hide the fact I was gay by marrying my high school sweetheart. Obviously, that couldn’t work. And she kind of figured it out within five seconds when she found me in bed with her brother. So, I was forced to come out to my parents, who, being the God-fearing folks they were, immediately disowned me and she filed for divorce. She got everything. I came to Houston.”

“Well,” David said as the smile vanished from his face. “That’s a hell of a story there, Adam.”

“Imagine living it,” Adam said, looking down as he tapped the glass of bourbon.

“Please forgive Davy,” Brock said. “He doesn’t know when it's best to leave well enough alone.”

“It’s okay, Brock,” Adam said. “He’s just being a brother.”

Lawson entered, wearing a light gray three-piece suit, matching the rest of the staff’s garb. He stood at the edge of the room looking towards Brock. Brock raised his head and acknowledged the dutiful majordomo of the house. Lawson walked into the middle of the living room and smiled at both sides of the room. “If you would like to follow me, dinner is about to be served.”

H I L T O N
Houston, Texas | Saturday 15 April 2023 | 19:02 CDT (GMT -5)

Sen. Jackson sat in her hotel room, a modest budget-friendly kind of place with slightly outdated furniture. The room was decent overall. Not the kind of place she would have dreamed for a lavish vacation, but for this weekend trip to Houston it was kind of just right. That and it was far enough away from the center of town and the nexus of Devereaux power. She sat in the wooden chair at the desk in her room. The TV to her right playing an old black and white movie. She reviewed the paperwork given to her by David earlier that day. She paused momentarily, her pen tapping the desk in time with her thoughts. If she suddenly started championing the contract, would she look like a hypocrite or would people in the state senate think she had been compromised? It wasn’t that the deal wasn’t quite beneficial to the State of Texas. On the contrary, it would save millions of taxpayer dollars. Dollars that could be piped into more niche programs that were more near and dear to her heart like fixing up some of San Antonio’s public schools. What she didn’t want was any stink of impropriety on her. If she was going to work in pushing for the contract it had to come quite naturally. It would have to be submitted through the appropriate channels, vetted by the appropriate people, and then discussed in the committee meeting. While she wasn’t that’s what David wanted to hear, she managed to pick her cellphone out of her purse and send a quick message to David’s second line--a burner phone of sorts. A line not traceable to him or the company. The message she sent said, “Must go through proper channels, but we have a deal.”

Sen. Jackson put the proposal back in its folder, then started to think about her upcoming challenge in the fall.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Saturday 15 April 2023| 20:37 CDT (GMT -5)

Brock placed his fork on his plate, a signal to Lawson, that he had indeed finished. Brock was not a fast eater. He believed in savoring every little bite. Life was to be enjoyed and food was absolutely something Brock enjoyed immensely. A young female staff member began to clear up the plates as Lawson entered the dining room wheeling a desert cart. The dessert cart--a gold cart with fine glass shelving--came stocked with a myriad of dessert options. Brock took a slice of Red Velvet Cake personally whipped up by Mrs. Heatherington, the Devereaux’s live-in chef (as were all meals). Adam selected a fresh, warm slice of apple pie, freshly baked for today’s dinner. David, as normal, refrained from eating dessert. He was never much a fan of sweets, especially desserts. David sat on one side of the table, the long table upon which foods were stored for the various meals sat. In front of him were Adam and Brock, directly across the table from him, their backs towards the large entryway which led diners into the main foyer of the house.

“Now you grew up in Tyler, right?” David said as he took another sip of bourbon.

“I sure did,” Adam said as he took a bite of pie, “On the outskirts. My folks had a small farm outside of town. Used to help with the small herd of cattle. Roping, branding, all that fun stuff. My dad wanted me to take over the farm, but, well, not that’s not happening.” He twirled the fork in his hand as he stated the last part of his statement. Then he felt Brock’s hand on his thigh, gripping it as if to say it would be alright.

“We got ourselves a plot up in Houston County,” David said. “A big, sprawlin’ kind of place with a huge herd of cattle.”

“Oh, I know. Can’t help but see it on the way down from Tyler,” Adam said with a slight laugh. “It does stand out.”

“Sure does,” David said with pride. “It’s a pretty place, too. I love it when I’m out there just sittin’ out on the porch of the main house watchin’ that Sun set. The smell, the remoteness.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, his mind drifting back to the days of his youth. “It’s quite nice, really.”

“If you’ll both excuse me,” Brock said standing up.

David shrugged as if Brock needed no permission to excuse himself. Adam stood up along with Brock and stayed standing until Brock left the room. David, taking his glass of bourbon, raised it to his lips, tipped it, sipped, and then put the glass back down. His eyes began to narrow slightly as a wry smile began to crack. “Brock’s sure mad about you.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual,” Adam said. “He’s a good guy.”

David nodded, the wry smiling expanding into a bright, Hollywood smile, “He sure is, Adam. A good kid, a nice guy, and my only brother. I would do anythin’ to protect him. I don't take it too well when people hurt him, either.” David looked straight into Adam's eyes conveying the seriousness of his statement without question.

Adam took another bite of his piece of pie, then set the fork down with a slight thud, “A veiled threat.” He started to wipe his mouth with the cotton cloth napkin. “I have nothing but good intentions with Brock.”

“We’ll see about that.” David said, “You guys have only been datin’ for.. what, a week? Now, I promised my little brother I wouldn’t meddle. And I always keep my promises. Just know, if you hurt him, it’ll be me you answer to. But, since your intentions are honorable, it won’t come to that, I trust.”

Brock returned, smiling at David and Adam, “You two having a nice chat?”

H I G H W A Y · 2 9 0
Entering Houston, Texas | Saturday 15 April 2023 | 22:45 CDT (GMT -5)

The yellow Chevy Avalanche sliced through the Texas morning, burning up the highway between Austin and Houston. Country music blared over the radio trying to drown out the sounds of the rushing air as LJ’s light brown hair flittered. On the floor of the passenger seat sat a backpage, gray, showing its age and how many miles it had traveled with LJ. As LJ pressed onward, signs for Houston began to appear before him, the various and sundry avenues and freeways surrounding the city leading to its many destinations passing by. The skyline appeared in the distance, a silhouette against the morning sun rising behind it. As a particular lively song played, he drummed his hands on the steering wheel and started singing along. As his exit peeled off, he followed the ramp down onto the surface streets. 10 minutes later he arrived at the family’s house in Houston. This one being a bit more substantial than the cookie-cutter suburban-style home they lived in Austin.

Opening the door, he tossed the backpack onto a recliner and reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He slid his thumb across the screen and, after a moment of looking for the right contact, held it up to his ear.

“Chase, yeah. I’m back in town, buddy. Get the boys together. We got some business to handle. Be here around 8 tonight, mkay?” He said. He smiled after a moment, the guarantee that the boys would be over, making him feel he was still the top dog in the group. “Right, see you then.”

by **Grand California** » Wed Apr 26, 2023 8:59 pm

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Sunday 23 April 2023 | 08:45 CDT (GMT -5)

The house maintained minimal staff on a Sunday. Texas was, after all, church country. A large percentage of the household staff had, a few years back, asked for the day off to attend church services and have dinner with their families. The Devereaux family was more than happy to allow it. The morning sunshine cast a soft glow through the sheer curtains, though one particular set of sheers were not drawn completely allowing a sliver of unfiltered light to climb up Adam and Brock. When it reached his eyes, Adam stirred, his eyes snapping open wide. The several bourbons plus the bottle of champagne he shared with Brock privately in Brock’s room had caused him to get drunk--something he was not a fan of. He looked over at Brock, who shifted slightly when Adam moved. He leaned down and gave him a gentle, soft kiss on the forehead. He watched Brock for a moment, the gentle way Brock gripped the blanket in his sleep holding it close, the way his hair seemed to splay across the pillow, and those lips that were so soft and gentle. He slid out of bed, and started to hunt down his pants. He noticed some pictures on the wall. Mostly family shots. Young pictures of Brock at school when his hair was shorter, more tamed. Beside him always in the shot was David. Pictures of tropical beaches with the two boys, family events where the center of attention was the Devereaux brothers, and a host of other memories shared by the two. In fact, there was only a single picture of Brock on any wall that didn’t include David. It was a shot of Brock standing in front of a large group of smiling, khaki-pants-wearing, polo-shirt brandishing volunteers in front of The Rainbow House. Brock had a black eye in the picture, causing Adam’s curiosity to overwhelm him.

It was then he felt Brock’s arms wrap around his torso, the grip getting tighter and Brock kissed him on the back of the neck. “What are you looking at?”

“This,” Adam said, nodding his head in the direction of the only picture without David.

“Oh, that’s the Rainbow House. They help runaway LGBTQIA+ teens. I volunteer there every summer. I’ve been doing it since I was 13. They’re really cool people who do great work. Hell, I even get Davy to help, too. Though, his idea of helping out is just writing a check, but I guess to each their own.”

“Is that a black eye in the photo,” Adam said as he turned around in Brock’s arms standing face to face with him.

“Yeah,” Brock said, trying to forget the memories, “Someone didn’t like that I was gay and let me know how they felt a few days earlier. Rainbow House wanted to give me a picture because they always wanted me to know that if it came to it I had a family there that would always stand by me.”

“Did David do that to you?” Adam asked.

“Davy?” Brock said, laughing at the thought, “Never. In fact, he shot the guy who did it. Of course, he was 14 and a not so good aim, so he hit the guy’s thigh, but it’s the thought that counts. No, it wasn’t Davy. It was my granddaddy.”

“Brock,” Adam said, sympathetic yet repulsed by the revelation, “I had no idea.”

“Well, now you know, baby,” Brock said. “You’re not the only one with a horrible family. Enough about that. How about we get some breakfast.”

R A I N B O W · H O U S E
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Sunday 23 April 2023 | 09:17 CDT (GMT -5)

Above the single-pane glass door with a simple metal pull handle hung the basic sign: The Rainbow House. Founded in 1971, the Rainbow House became the most prominent LGBT+ center in the whole of the Houston area. It Began its life as a simple place for local LGBT+ teens and young adults to meet in a safe location, shielded from the less diversity-inclusive members of Houston society. These troubled souls found a place to sleep, watched over by members of the LGBT community who had a heart so big, so pure that they only cared about protecting and helping. Counselors were also on hand to assist. Over the years, the center began to offer resources for parents, friends, and families of LGBT persons to teach them how to love and support their loved ones. David pulled up to the rear of the building in his black Lexus LS. He stepped out, buttoning the top button of his designer suit coat, slid the sunglasses over his eyes, and began to walk towards the gray metal back door. David took a quick look around, adjusted his shirt cuffs to allow the diamond-studded cufflinks and opened the door, which had been left just ajar. He opened the door and walked in. The center was full, as always. A cacophony of laughter, of chit-chat, and of love filled the small hallway he walked down until he reached the door he’d been looking for: a black door with several notices and a volunteer schedule attached with different highlighter colors for each member of staff. He took his right hand and knocked gently with the back of his hand.

The door opened and a short, fat man with multicolor hair and several nose rings answered; his tie-dyed shirt and skinny jeans only accentuating his portliness. He looked at David with a half smile that was interrupted by his gum chewing. “You new here?” he asked, looking David up and down.

“Sam,” came a voice from inside the office, “who is it?”

“The man of my dreams,” Sam said with a wink.

David rolled his eyes into the back of his head as the man he came to see appeared behind the conspicuously-dressed gatekeeper.

“Sam, this is Mr. Devereaux. You remember I told you about him, right?”

“Oh, a straight boy,” the young man said as he moved out of David’s way. “My favorite kind.”

David entered the office and shook the hand of the man he wanted to speak with. The bespectacled 54 year old man in a cheap, department store dress shirt in desperate need of an iron and dress pants which needed a tailor to help them fit right. “David, as always it’s good to see you. Please, please sit down. And forgive Sam. He’s still new around here,” said Charlie Porter, the center’s director.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Sam,” David said without a smile. Charlie sat down behind the basic metal desk--something probably delivered by Amazon--which was covered with various binders and files scattered around. The mess was normal. David was used to it. He sat down in the cheap, somewhat uncomfortable chair. Then Charlie shooed Sam away with a quick couple of waves.

“I want you to know, David, your support has really, really helped us over the years. We’re opening two new satellite offices in some of the lesser served communities in rural Texas these days. 25 different locations now.” Charlie said, trying not to fawn all over David.

“Yeah, what you’re doing is really quite nice, I must say,” David said as he reached into his suit coat’s interior pocket. He took out his checkbook and wrote a check. With a gentle, gliding motion he tore it from the checkbook without tearing it, then blew on the ink slightly. He handed the check over the desk to Charlie, who took it without question. He looked at the check. It began to shake, along with Charlie’s hand as he read the amount.

“David,” Charlie said, nearly gasping, “I.... I... I don’t know what to say.” Charlie once more reviewed the check, which was written in the amount of ten million dollars.

David held up his hand, shaking him off with his head, “You don’t need to say anythin’. You told me you were needin’ a lot of cash because of all this expandin’ and I couldn’t let it go without helpin’. I hope that’s enough to hold you over for a bit.”

“Uh, yeah... uh.... It will,” Charlie said, trying not to explode in joy.

David pointed his index finger at Charlie as he spoke, “You guys really helped Brock when he needed someone to talk to. Anyone who helps Brock is a friend of mine. You just call me when you need more, you hear?” Then David stood up and started to walk out. “And remember the deal. Tell no one. As far as all the folks around here, I’m just an ally makin’ a small donation.”

“David, thank you,” Charlie said.

David simply walked out, then left.

C L U B · A L E X A N D E R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Sunday 23 April 2023 | 11:02 CDT (GMT -5)

Adam and Brock arrived at Club Alexander, the work crews racing to complete the details of the new design. As Adam stepped through the door with Brock in tow, he surveyed his crews fulfilling the blueprints and Brock’s requests for his personal touches. Before Brock purchased the club, the wooden dance floor stood marred from years of Houston’s youth dancing and drinking their nights away. The walls were mostly black with some red accent walls here and there. The bar was just a dark wood bar worn away from 40 years of drunk clients hands and other body parts leaning up against it. Now, a sealed concrete floor with a liquid resin coating in black awaited the eager partiers waiting with baited breath to return to their haunt. The walls were painted a darker gray with a few stone accent walls with recessed candle lights. The wooden bar was replaced with a sleek and modern design topped with dark gray slate bar counter tops. With the foundation and the walls in excellent shape, the redesign turned into a merely cosmetic affair.

“What do you think?” Adam asked as Brock began to take a walkthrough to see how things had been going. “We are still working on the finishing touches, obviously. Some sealing, polishing, and installing the new coolers, but if you’re planning to open in two more weeks, it’ll be good.”

“Thank you, baby,” Brock said with a wink. “Your guys moved fast.”

“You did pay a lot of money for a quick turnaround. I had to take three crews from other projects to do it. And Mrs. Hernandez is none too pleased about it.”

“I am sorry about Mrs. Hernandez, but I’m sure that she doesn’t do to you what I do.” Brock said.

“She’s 78. That would be gross,” Adam said with a smile.

“Now, I have to plan the grand reopening. I’m going to have to plan this out to the last detail, baby.” Brock started to walk around, stroking his chin and talking about who he would invite, which sounded like a who’s who list of Houston society while Adam walked behind him wondering who all of these people were and if he even really cared. He figured it would be better for his blossoming relationship if he just nodded and just said yes every so often.

As they were walking, Brock broke away having a momentary vision of how the club would look the day it reopened. He stepped behind the new bar and looked out while Adam stood pat. The canister hit the floor with a loud crash, its contents exploding in all directions. Lacquer splashed all over Adam’s clothing, the floor, and part of the new bar. Brock had missed joining this cavalcade of sealant by mere inches.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Sunday 23 April 2023 | 12:37 CDT (GMT -5)

David twirled in his computer chair, his laptop wide open, PDF files open in multiple tabs. Clicking the mouse he flipped over to his business email, the opened communication from one Greg Jennings, Nanette’s ex-boyfriend and quasi-rival. The details of the deal were in the PDFs, securely sealed and openable only by David with a special password given to him by Greg directly. The email only hinted at the surface of the deal: a multibillion dollar offer for an extraction company that David’s grandfather had built. It was his second business and a business of which his grandfather had taken immense pride. In the modern day, Sierra Extraction had become one of California’s largest and most profitable mineral and resource extraction corporations. Of all the corporations under the Devereaux Enterprises umbrella, this was the one he hated. It brought back memories he’d rather not remember. Ultimately, the corporation became a pet project of David’s mother, Nanette, because it was the last of the businesses under the corporate umbrella that Edward Devereaux had built himself, Devereaux Oil having been created by Nanette’s great-grandfather. As David spun one more time in his chair, he nodded as Greg finished.

“Greg,” David said, “now that’s what I like to hear. I’ll have the papers to you within the hour. Pleasure doing business with you. Oh, and Mama’s gonna hate it.”

Greg said via speakerphone, “Well, I’m happy I can help.”

“Oh you’re helpin’ alright. In about 50 billion ways, sir,” David said.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Sunday 23 April 2023 | 14:00 CDT (GMT -5)

David left his room and walked down the hallway, past the library and his own personal office. Stepping through the rotunda and into the large living room, he saw Adam sitting on one of the couches wearing one of Brock’s silk bathrobes reading some work documents. David paused, his head cocking slightly as he stood looking at Adam briefly.

“If it ain’t the mechanical bull,” David said as he walked into the living room and extended his hand to shake Adam’s.

Adam put his paperwork down and shook David’s hand, “David.”

“Hey, cowboy, might wanna put the stallion back in the barn,” David said, pointing towards where the robe should have been closed. Adam looked down and quickly fixed the situation. “Didn't know we had a guest.
Again.” David added.

“There was an incident at the club. One of my crew dropped some lacquer and it got all over me. Brock’s gone shopping to get me some new clothes because I couldn’t go out like this.” Adam said as he picked his paperwork up and began to return his attention to it. As he did, he could feel David staring at him over his proposals.

“Ol’ Brock’s gone shoppin’ for ya?” David asked with a hearty laugh, “Well, now this I gotta see.”

Adam once more put the paperwork down and leaned forward slightly, “Yeah, he seemed kind of way too excited about it. I told him to just do something simple.”

David started rolling on the couch laughing loudly, nearly cackling as Adam kept looking at him, the look of concern on his face growing exponentially second by second. “Boy, you ain’t got any idea what’s about to happen.”

“Hap...happen? What’s about to happen?” Adam said as he nearly gasped in fear. “Should I be worried?”

The sound of the front door opening alerted David and Adam that Brock was home. Of course, had they not heard the door, what sounded like an army beginning to march towards them would have alerted them to something. Brock entered first, wearing a blue check suit with a white shirt, and a silver tie. A bigger smile never had never graced his face. Then, 10 household staff members entered each one carrying several garment bags on each hand plus two more with an actual clothing rack with various more casual shirts, pants, and sweaters. Adam looked at David, his eyes screaming for help. All David did was cackle.

“Uh, Brock, what did you do?” Adam said, trying not to feel overwhelmed, but failing.

“Oh, I just picked up a few little things. I know, I know, you said just not to worry about it. But, I mean, I’ve just been dying to try a few things on you anyway, so I figured, know what, might as well.” Brock said, fully in his element.

“Ain’t that a sight,” David said. “This day just keeps gettin’ better and better.” David put his feet up on the coffee table, leaned back on the couch and put his hand behind his head as Brock pulled Adam up from the couch and had the army of household staff take him off for what was sure to be a long evening of trying on clothes. “Hey, y’all make sure I get to see these outfits, you hear?”

“Oh, Davy, of course!” Brock shouted as he waved bye to David without turning around to face him.

As David reveled in the sheer torture Adam was about to endure at Brock’s fashionable hands, the sound of the front door slamming and militant high heels clacking against the floor caused him to stand up. Nanette stormed into the living room, eyes of fire burning straight for David’s soul. She stopped as soon as she was within arm’s reach of David.

“You son of a bitch,” she said, then smacked him on the side of his face, hard, with the sound echoing slightly. The smirk on David’s face did not dissolve afterward, “Who in the hell said you could sell Sierra Extraction? Especially to Greg fucking Jennings?”

“Well, Mama, I didn’t need your permission to do shit,” David said. “Between ol’ Brock and myself, we had 51% of the shares. Kind of all we needed now, ain’t it.”

“My father built that corporation with his bare hands,” Nanette said.

“Well, he sure enough did, but that son of a bitch is dead and I couldn’t care less what he did to it,” David said.

Nanette smacked David again, “You don’t talk about my father like that, David. Do you understand me?”

“Fuck that asshole,” David said. Nanette went to smack him again, but this time David grabbed her hand and held it tight and firm. She winced slightly at the strength of his grip. The smirk dissolved from David’s face, his eyes returning the fire Nanette once shot at him.

“You remember that night, doncha? When Brock came out to us? What did your daddy do? Said no grandson of his would be a fucking faggot and he’d teach him a lesson. Then, Granddaddy just beat the shit outta my brother. You sat there like it was alright. You said it was just a phase Brock was goin’ through. He was just 13 years old. If I hadn’t stepped in, ol’ Edward woulda killed him. A grown ass woman couldn’t stand up for her son, so her 14 year old boy hadda do somethin’. So don’t give me no shit about what I say about him, you hear? And just remember one thing, you’re just a placeholder until that bastard’s will is fully executed.” David looked at his watch. “Tick tock, Mama. Time’s running out.” He let go of Nanette’s arm.

“Is this how you treat your mother?” Nanette said.

David raised his hand, closed his first, and extended his forefinger. Waggling it in front of her face while shaking his head he spoke, “A mother don’t let her daddy beat up her kid. She don’t act like her children are accessories. And she sure ‘nuff don’t leave their rearin’ to the household staff. Givin’ birth don’t make you a mother”

“And don’t you ever hit me again, you hear?” he added.

“Oh Davy!” Brock hollered from down the hall.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got somethin’ to do,” David said as he started to walk off towards Brock’s bedroom.

by **Grand California** » Sun Apr 30, 2023 3:33 pm

M I N U T E · M A I D · P A R K
Houston, Texas | Friday 29 April 2023 | 18:45 CDT (GMT -5)

The childhood of David and Brock Devereaux were never like normal kids where they’d wake up in the morning, Mom would make breakfast, pack a school lunch, and kiss the kids goodbye while Dad went to work. There weren’t many summer camps with fellow school kids or dance recitals. Their days were well structured by high-end private schools who ensured all children dressed in school uniforms. The idea of summer camp was less a rustic retreat away from the trappings of modern life and more a well-stocked cabin in the woods not all that far from cell service. One thing the boys were given were options for after school activities. Brock, being Brock, flitted from idea to idea. From being a concert pianist to a writer to a beach bum. He dismissed athletic pursuits. They weren’t his taste. In contrast there was David who took every opportunity to try every sport that interested him. Too small for gridiron football and too tall for horse racing, he found a niche in baseball, which became a passionate interest for the eldest Devereaux boy. When Edward Devereaux purchased the MLB franchise Houston Hurricanes in 2015, it was a dream come true for David who quickly took to using the owner’s box at his leisure. When Edward Devereaux passed in 2019, Edward’s shares were split between Nanette, David, and Brock. Nanette received 10% of the shares, David and Brock 40% each. David was the most visible of the trio, attending as many games as his schedule would allow. Nanette would make the occasional appearance there, while Brock essentially just showed up when David asked him to show up. For tonight’s game, David had a very special guest in the box. Winston Jefferson Epps III, President and CEO of Republican Bank of Texas, one of the region's largest banks. With offices located throughout Texas, Louisiana, and Oklahoma, and a merger offer on the table with a major national bank, RBT, as it was known, stood at the precipice of greatness.

As the pitcher warmed up on the mound as first pitch drew near, David sat in the owner’s seat, a very comfortable chair that overlooked the whole of Minute Maid Park. Winston took a sip from the glass of bourbon poured for him and smiled; the usual response to a new customer to the Devereaux special blend. He looked around the suite, taking in the sights. The luxury box exhibited everything needed for an entire game full of comfort and class. A private bar offering only the best liquors with a bartender personally hired by David himself. Pictures of Hurricanes history, including World Series wins, graced the walls while the large, tinted window allowed box guests to shield themselves from the Texas heat or rain. Though, when David entertained in the box with other captains of industry, it was never simply because of a love of baseball--even if David never talked business while the game was in motion.

“These teams from Columbia are always trying to cause trouble,” Winston said as he watched one unruly fan throwing a beer bottle at the Hurricanes mascot.

“Oh, that’s them Philly boys,” David said, knocking back his fourth bourbon of the evening, “Last time I went out there to watch the ‘Canes, I was doused with beer from a big ol’ fat dude in a Phillies jersey. Ruined a five thousand dollar suit, that fucker.” He chuckled on the last part. “But they’re good people, I guess. Passionate fans.”

“So, what do I owe the pleasure of the invitation this evening?” Winston asked.

“Well, Mr. Epps--Winston if you don’t mind,” David asked, looking for permission to be more familiar with Winston. Winston agreed. “So, have you got a chance to think about my offer?”

Winston put the glass down on the table beside him and leaned forward, “I did, David. I have to say, you do drive a hard bargain.”

“And your answer?” David asked?

“Oh, I am very much in.” Winston replied.

David turned slightly, snapping his fingers. The bartender reached down behind the bar and produced a large brown leather briefcase. He walked over and put the large briefcase down on a table. He opened the suitcase to reveal a massive amount of neatly stacked bands of one hundred dollar bills. “Well, I appreciate that most kindly.” David said with a smile..

F A B R I Z I O S · B I S T R O
Houston, Texas | Friday 29 April 2023 | 18:59 CDT (GMT -5)

Fabrizio’s Bistro held a special appeal to Brock. While most fine dining establishments attempted to be clever with their designs, Fabrizio’s did not. Red and white checkerboard tablecloths, a jar of breadsticks, crooners singing lightly in the background, and most of all, the intimate size of the restaurant made Brock relax. So often he would sit at a special table or a reserved area. It certainly offered its own charm, but being around everyone else--being like everyone else--caused him to smile, to forget who he was for however long dinner would take. It also didn’t hurt that they had the best tiramisu in all of Houston. As Brock savored the sweet and boozy taste of a perfectly-executed dessert, the server placed the black check folder on the table. Brock reached his free hand over to grab it, but Adam snatched it first. He pulled his credit card from his wallet and placed it inside, after which Adam stood up and excused himself. Brock took Adam’s card from inside the check binder and slapped Adam’s credit card down in front of his vacant seat. The server came to collect the binder. Brock reached into his interior pocket and produced a solid gold money clip full of hundred dollar bills. He peeled two off and handed them to the server.

“No change, thank you,” Brock said with a smile.

Adam returned to the table and saw his credit card sitting in front of his seat. He picked it up and slid it back into his wallet, then shook his head as he sat down, “Brock, now, you know I like to pay.”

“I know, baby, but I wanted to do it this time. You can’t have all the fun,” Brock said with a playful wink.

Adam took a second, then smiled back. Flashbacks of a torrent of designer, tailored suits danced in his head. He wanted to tell him that he doesn’t like people buying things for him. Being the self-made man he was didn’t lend itself too well to that, but he thought that sometimes a little give and take is okay. Especially if you’re really into someone. “It’s okay, Brock. I honestly do not mind paying at all. But, if it makes you happy, then I’ll let you pay. Once in a while, anyway.”

“It does,” Brock said, his eyes lighting up. The giddiness built inside him until he couldn’t handle it and whipped out his phone and pulled up something, turned it around and showed Adam. Adam took the phone from Brock’s hand. Adam’s eyes bugged out of his head.

“How?” Adam said, looking at Brock in sheer amazement. “This concert has been sold out for weeks.”

Brock shrugged slightly, looked down at the table, “I know people. When a Devereaux wants something, they get it.”

“Oh?” Adam said, “no one ever says no?

“Not if they’re smart,” Brock replied as he stood up. He turned to Adam and playfully bit his lower lip.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Houston, Texas | Friday 29 April 2023 | 20:24 CDT (GMT -5)

David stepped into the living room of the manor, he turned towards the couches. They were empty, something he hadn’t seen in a few weeks. He couldn’t hear Brock or Adam, and even Nanette’s heels were nowhere to be heard. If it weren’t for the small army of staff that kept the household running, David swore he was home alone. For a brief moment, he closed his eyes and breathed in the silence. The momentary silence was broken when he heard the front door open and footsteps coming through the rotunda.

Without turning around he said, “Lawson, that you?”

“I’m not Lawson, and I’m not alone, David,” Nathan said as his kids flanked him on either side.

Nathan Margrave, 54, stood before David, their heights matching almost perfectly. Nathan was Louis Margrave's fraternal twin, the youngest of the two by a whopping 5 minutes and 14 seconds. The hints of a once very attractive man broke through the aging process currently turning him into a daddy--as some would say. On his left stood Evan Margrave, his eldest child from his first marriage. The 33 year old stood tall and lanky, his black hair always with a side part with a bit of texture at the top, the only thing discerning it from a typical men’s haircut. On Nathan’s left stood Alexandra Margrave, his youngest child and the only one from his second marriage. The 30 year old stood tall, giving her 168 cm height a few extra subconscious centimeters. Nathan wasted no time in getting married or having kids. In fact, he believed in having kids quickly so that he could still be reasonably young when they were adults. And by 24 he had both of his kids and two wives. His third marriage, unfortunately, did not result in a child. What distinguished Nathan from most of his family was the amount of sarcasm and snark which permeated his voice. No one ever knew when he was kidding or when he was being truthful--something he absolutely leaned into.

“Uncle Nate?!” David said with a bright smile. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were comin’ to Houston?” He walked over towards Nathan and extended his hand to shake it, but Nathan grabbed him and gave him a hug. “It’s gotta be 5 years?”

“Seven, but who’s counting,” Nathan said as he looked around. “I love what your mother’s done with the place. If it were anymore richly detailed, I’d swear I was in a cheap European brothel,” Nathan winked and smiled.

“I was coming out here for some business and I thought, might as well just drop by and say hi. Plus, the time came for my kids to finally meet their dear, sweet Auntie Dearest. She’s pretty much avoided coming out to LA when invited,” Nathan said. “At least she wasn’t afraid to drop you both into her private jet and ship you off to the Margrave reunions. I’m sure that Mother and Father didn’t mind her absence.”

“They still think Mama killed Daddy?” David said, “She may be a lot, but she ain’t a murderer.”

“Yeah, well, some people aren’t so convinced,” Nathan said as he shrugged, a wide smirk on his face. “Harry and Pat send their love, by the way.” He blew David a kiss, from his Margrave grandparents.

“Kids,” Nathan said, drawing the word out slightly longer than it needed to be, “make sure to play nice with your cousins. Wait,” he said, putting his index finger over his lips. He raised his eyebrows and scanned the room quickly, “there are two of you, right? I distinctly remember a taller, skinnier kid.”

David laughed, “Brock, yeah, he’s gone out with his fella.”

Nathan feigned a gasp, “I’ll have to get up with him later for a late night dish over white wine or rosé. Anyway, David, just thought we’d stop by and say hi before we head over to the hotel.”

“A hotel? The hell you are,” David said smiling, “you get your stuff and you stay here while you’re in town. Mama’s gonna be late tonight. Hong Kong has an issue.”

“Doesn’t it always,’ Nathan said. “Kids, thank your cousin.”

Evan and Alexandra smiled, trying not to laugh, “Thank you, cousin.”

“Awww, kids,” Nathan said, his smile wide, hands clasped together. “I love it when they do that,” he added.

A D A M ' S · H O U S E
Houston, Texas | Friday 29 April 2023 | 23:03 CDT (GMT -5)

Adam’s house sat in suburban Houston, the kind of idyllic neighborhood where couples moved to raise their 2.4 kids with a white picket fence and a cat and a dog. Neighbors had evening barbecues on the weekends while children played in the backyard. The houses were more eclectic in style, nothing flashy for the suburbs, yet enough pizzazz and flare that no two houses were alike. In particular Adam’s house had special features, like the lattice style overhang over where his large, brick barbecue stood, and a large rectangular swimming pool that friends could gather around during the sultry summer night. It stood two storeys, had three bedrooms (one which was used for its actual purpose, the others were turned into a home office and a video game room respectively), a home gym, a large kitchen, and a rumpus room--something which Brock had never heard of, but he loved just saying the words. Outside of their first night together, Adam had always gone back to Devereaux Manor--always at Brock’s request. Tonight, Adam didn’t want to go back to the manor. He wanted to entertain. That and he wanted to remember what it was like to actually be in a normal home as opposed to the oversized monstrosity (as he thought of it).

The bedroom was rather large by average person standards, enough room for a king sized bed and an entire bedroom suite. The larger flat screen mounted on the wall scrolled a screensaver from the streaming service the two said they wanted to go back to Adam’s place to watch, though they didn’t watch anything. Brock lay on Adam, kissing furiously, both men sweaty and rather happy in their current positions. Brock paused the kissing and just looked at Adam and smiled.

“Do you think I need to work out?” Brock asked.

Adam laughed, “Do you want to work out? I can show you.”

“No,” Brock said with a wink, “But, I mean look at you and look at me.”

“I do look at you, Brock. All the time. There’s isn’t anything about you I don’t like to see. From those beautiful, soulful blue eyes, to your cute nose, that big smile and those soft lips.” Adam ran his thumb over Brock’s lips. “I love the way your hair looks in the moonlight and the sound of your voice when you're talking about something you love. The warmth of your body pressed against mine when you sleep. The way you wrap yourself around me like I’m going to try to run away in the middle of the night. I look at you, Brock, and I see someone who is perfect. And someone.... that I am madly in love with.”

“You’re madly in love with me?” Brock said, trying not to explode with excitement, his eyes glistening in the soft glow of the room. “Because, I’m completely in love with you.” Brock laid his head on Adam’s chest, Adam wrapped his arms around him and caressed him. Brock refused to move. Adam didn’t want him to. Everything was happening so fast. Adam hadn’t felt this way about anyone. He couldn’t explain it. There weren’t the words in the English language to do it. He just knew it was right. He just had to figure out how to deal with one really big fact, which was the fact he felt inadequate due to something stupid--Brock’s net worth.

Having been a self-made man who finally got ahead gave Adam a tremendous sense of accomplishment. For the last several years, he worked day and night, sometimes without sleep, to make a way for himself. He was given nothing and had earned everything. He knew what a dollar was really worth--primarily because there were many moments when he didn’t have one in his pocket. Now, some 7 years later, he had money. He had success. He even found a guy he loved. Brock’s money--and by extension his family’s money--frightened him. It was why he kept paying, until Brock became more forceful about it. Still, Adam thought that it was his problem and he needed to get over it. Brock was a great guy and Adam wasn’t going to let his insecurities stand in the way of that. So, he decided there was something he needed to do.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Houston, Texas | Saturday 30 April 2023 | 08:57 CDT (GMT -5)

The dining room table overflowed with food. Croissants, fruits, bacon, pancakes, eggs, coffee, various kinds of fruit juices, and with people. For the first time in a very long time the house had life in it. Nanette sat at the head of the table--as always--David to her right, Brock to her left. Next to him sat Adam, who came over for what Brock described as a well-deserved breakfast. At the table opposite of Nanette sat Nathan, Evan to his right and Alexandra to her right. In fact, there was only one vacant seat which was between David and Alexandra. Conversations abound as everyone tucked into their meal. As everyone started their day, Brock took the opportunity to take his fork and clank it on his champagne glass full of orange juice.

“Hey, everyone, can I have your attention?” Brock said, the conversations hushing in anticipation of his announcement. Even David stopped what he was doing, his attention firmly fixated on Brock.

“So, last night Adam and I talked,“ Brock said with giddiness. “And he asked me to marry him and I said yes!” Brock held up his left hand to showcase a simple platinum band, something Adam decided on when he bought it a few days earlier.

Nanette took her glass of grapefruit juice and drained it like it was full of booze. Evan and Alexandra began to clap, as did Nathan. David sat motionless, his face without emotion or expression. He just stared. At Adam, then Brock, then back at Adam.

“Well,” Nanette said, “Brock, it’s kind of fast, don’t you think? You barely know him. Maybe you two should give it more time to see if this match is compatible.”

“If Nanette is against it, then I must be for it,” Nathan said with a smile and a polite clap. “Don’t listen to the detractors, Brock. Marry that big lug and be happy.”

“Nathan, don’t put words into my mouth. I’m not against it. I just cannot, for the life of me, understand how they could be ready to make such a commitment if they have only been dating for a month. Maybe.” Nanette replied.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Nathan said. “Nanette, you can’t put a time limit on true love. If we did, you wouldn’t have married Louie. Now, just be happy for them and put your dragon lady image aside for the benefit of your child.”

David stood up causing the table to quiet down. When it came to Brock, there was one person whose opinion counted and it wasn’t a long-distance uncle or a mother who was less a mother and more a manager. It was David. The sight of David standing up to make his opinion clear caused Brock’s nerve to rattle. Adam noticed the sheer fear spreading over Brock’s face as David began to make his opinion clear.

“Brock,” David said, “You’re the only brother I got. And I always want you to be happy. If Adam makes you happy and you’re ready for this, then I ain’t got nothing to say but congratulations, little brother. And if anyone don’t like it, then you send’em my way.” David looked straight at Nanette when he said that. She smiled, politely yet menacingly at David, her head cocking ever so slightly. David raised his glass towards the happy couple, then took a drink. He stared straight into Adam’s eyes. Had they been lasers, Adam would’ve been eviscerated on the spot. It was a message Adam didn’t miss.

And neither did Brock.

by **Grand California** » Tue May 02, 2023 1:17 pm

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Monday 1 May 2023 | 18:45 CDT (UTC -5)

The battle between Spring and Summer continued to gain steam, figuratively and literally, as both the temperature and humidity soared in Houston. A few days of hot and steamy, a storm front, then cooler, dryer air. Wash, rinse, repeat. David walked up the diving board steps. He wore red 19” boardshorts with a 2” royal blue waist band and piping, tied with a white string. The legs of the boardshorts stopped just above the kneecaps, the waist finishing just below the belly button allowing his Adonis belt to show and disappear below the band. He walked down the diving board, his blonde hair matching the rays of the sun, took a single jump to propel himself, then launched a perfect cannonball into the pool. David caused enough of a splash for Brock’s hair to get wet while he perched on the edge of the pool. Adam, for his part, dodged the wave. David’s head reappeared above the water, laughter streaming from his mouth.

“Davy, you’re so rude sometimes,” Brock said, his attention turning back to Adam as he heard his future husband laughing along with David. Then Adam hopped into the pool and pulled Brock in behind him, Brock protesting the whole way. Then the two began a splash fight between them. “Stop getting my hair wet!”

“Brock,” Adam said with a smirk, “It’s a pool.”

“David,” Evan shouted from the shallow end of the pool as he stepped in, a glass of bourbon in each hand, “figured you might want this.”

David made his way over and took the drink from Evan’s hand. They clinked glasses and smiled, “Don’t mind if I do,” David said.

Evan perched on the edge of the pool, David sitting down next to him. Evan’s dark hair and light beard a stark contrast to his cousin’s. Evan took a sip before speaking in softer tones, “So, I saw the way you looked at Adam last night. Everything okay?”

David swirled the bourbon in the glass slightly, watching the legs on the whiskey as they trickled their way down into the glass. The sun catching the liquor causes it to shine a more vibrant shade of brown. “A reminder,” he said before he took a sip.

“Of what?” Evan asked, his face piqued with curiosity.

“A warnin’,” David said. “A warnin’ not to hurt ol’ Brock cause I won’t take too kindly to it.”

Evan turned his attention to Adam and Brock, the pair now firmly sitting on the edge of the pool again, several feet away, Adam’s arm around Brock’s shoulders, Brock leaning into Adam slightly. Both men with unabashed smiles on their faces as they held a private conversation. “I don’t know, David, but, seems like they’re into each other. You probably don’t have much to worry about.” Evan tapped David on the shoulder, “Maybe I’m wrong, I just got here the other day, but it looks like love to me.”
David took another drink, then looked back towards Brock and Adam. He watched as Brock seemed oblivious to the fact anyone else was anywhere near him as he wriggled slightly when Adam kissed the back of his neck. Specifically, he paid attention to Adam as he started to caress Brock’s shoulder. “I guess,” David said. “And if it is, then ain’t no one deserve it more than Brock.”

“And if Adam does hurt him,” Evan said, finding the silver lining as always, “you’ll be able to beat the shit out of him for fun.”

“Ha,” David said, the smile filling his face, “Now that’s one way to see it.”

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Monday 1 May 2023 | 21:17 CDT (UTC -5)

Nanette sat in her private office, her large oak desk dominating the space. The desktop neatly adorned with two monitors and a tower, the nexus of her working from home space. Artworks dotted the walls, one a panoramic high-quality photograph of the Houston skyline. The walls, carpet, and ceiling were all white. He sat behind the desk, her phone against her ear as she listened to the person on the other end. Her face sat motionless, not a hint of expression or emotion. She tapped her right index finger on the back of the phone with enough force the person on the other end complained about it.

“We’ve been trying to take care of this problem since my father died and here we are, 4 years later, and you’re busy giving me nothing but excuses instead of solutions,” Nanette growled into the phone. She listened again, the person on the other end of the phone giving her more unwelcome information evidenced by the fact her face started to shift to pure anger, if the lines in her forehead becoming more outlined and the veins sticking out of her neck were any indication. “Let me put it to you like this: you find a way to keep that little piece of shit from taking over my company and my house or you will never find out how this baseball season ends.” Nanette threw her phone towards the door. The screen shattered into pieces as it collapsed to the ground. A second later, the door to the office opened and Nathan stood on the other side.

“Problems, Nanette?” Nathan said looking down at the shattered phone. “You might want to get yourself someone to talk to about your anger problems.”

“What do you want?” Nanette said.

Nathan smiled as he kicked the wreckage of a once viable phone out of his way and closed the door tightly behind him. He sauntered to the seat in front of the desk and sat down as if called to the meeting by Nanette instead of inviting himself in. Nanette took her seat behind the high back brown leather chair and wheeled herself into her desk. He placed both elbows on the table and rested her head on her hands waiting to he whatever it was Nathan was about to say.

“So, I just happened to be passing by and it sounded to me like, well, I don’t really want to say,” Nathan said, the gotcha grin wide on his face, “but it sounded to me like you were going to try to block my nephew from his birthright? Really, Nanette, I would’ve thought you’d be more couth than to shout so loudly about things that should only ever be mentioned in whispers.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual,” Nanette said, her attempt to feign innocence better left for other more receptive ears.

“No, no,” Nathan said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He played back the part where Nanette said that if she didn’t get that little piece of shit off of her business and house, whomever she spoke with wouldn’t know how the baseball season finished. Nanette froze, somewhat perturbed, but mostly processing a deal that might be more attractive to Nathan’s ears. “See,” Nathan continued, “I think whatever it is you’re trying to do, you should stop now. Otherwise, I’ll have no choice but to let David hear this little love letter.”

“Nathan,” Nanette said, picking her head up, then standing up behind the desk as if to give a grand presentation, “perhaps what might be better is you destroy that recording and I’ll ensure you get handsomely compensated for all of that extra trouble.”

Nathan nodded, the smile shifting to one of contemplation, “You make an interesting offer there, Nanette. Really, I think you do.” Nathan then leaned forward, “But, I think I’m going to have to pass on that offer. You forget, David is my brother’s son. Someone I swore I would look after if anything ever happened to Louie. Now, mark my words, you do anything to David, and I will have no choice but to give the press this.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He tossed it onto the desk. Nanette picked it up and read it. She looked up from the paper, her eyebrows coming to a point between her eyes, the eyelids lowering, the pupil dilating and aiming right for Nathan’s heart. “Oh, you can do whatever you like with that copy. We have the original back in Los Angeles.”

“You forged a police report?” Nanette said, “of all the low....”

“No,” Nathan said, this time any friendliness dropped from his voice, the anger exploding with the force of ten thousand suns, “Don’t you fucking dare, you bitch. I tell you as sure as I live, you will play ball with every goddamned thing I tell you to do from now on or I will ruin you. It wasn’t the other driver who crossed the yellow line, it was Louie. Painkillers, Nanette. He was so high on painkillers the doctors were amazed he didn’t pass out earlier, Nanette. So don’t fuck with me.”

Nanette’s breath was heavy, her face red, her palms sweaty. She turned away from Nathan and stared down at the floor. “What do I have to do?” she asked.

“Give Brock your support for his marriage. Let David take over as old Edward put in his will. And you might want to try to find a way to patch up the relationships with your kids, Nanette. Brock can’t make a move without David’s permission and David’s a fucking psycho all because you never wanted them. You just treat them like unwanted house pets. But, your daddy wouldn’t let you get an abortion. Nope, he made you marry Louie to make an honest woman out of you, you pathetic little cunt. And then you had Louie killed. My innocent brother, whose only crime was fucking the wrong woman. Just imagine what would happen if David ever found out about this. I wouldn’t blame him or stand in his way.”

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Monday 1 May 2023 | 23:01 CDT (UTC -5)

Brock stood at the door. He began knocking, “Davy,” he said loud enough that there were no uncertainties he wanted his attention. The door opened quickly, David paused seeing Brock standing there. He stepped out of the doorway and extended his hand inward to usher him into his bedroom. David sat in his computer chair while Brock sat on the edge of his king sized bed.

“I saw that look at breakfast the other day, Davy,” Brock said, his voice full of disappointment, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it’s gotta stop. Davy, I love him, okay?”

“Aww hell, Brock. He ain’t one of us,” David said. “He don’t know what it’s like for us. He ain’t ready for this life, Brock. What’s he got, a couple million if he’s lucky? Some quaint little house in the sticks for a cat and a couple kids? We ain’t no ordinary rich folks. We’re the rich folks of the rich folks class. Not to mention just how fucked up our own damn family is? You think he’s gonna handle all this? I ain’t so sure. And how you know he ain’t here to steal your money, Brock?”

Brock shouted as he stood up, his eyes focused solely on David’s, “I didn’t come here to ask for your permission or to get a lecture, okay? Whether or not you like it, this wedding is happening. You can either be happy for us, or you can just fuck off.” Brock walked over to David. David stood up, uncertain as to what was about to happen. “I mean it. Either you are happy for us, or fuck you, David.”

“And what if I ain’t happy?” David said, his cold eyes locked in a fierce battle with Brock’s. That’s when it happened. As if a reflex. Brock raised his hand and smacked David across his face. David froze, unsure what to do..

“Then fuck you.” Brock said. He turned around and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

“BROCK!” David shouted. “You get back here, right now! Brock!” he shouted as he ran to the door and flung it open so hard papers on his desk blew off.

Brock wasn’t in the hallway. He looked around, and standing in the doorway to Brock’s bedroom was Adam. His arms were crossed over his chest. David prepared for the confrontation. Adam, though, shook his head, walked into Brock’s room, and closed the door ignoring David to console Brock.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Tuesday 2 May 2023 | 01:34 CDT (UTC -5)

David sat in the library, the fifth of bourbon in his hand. There wasn’t a glass or an ice cube. He was simply drinking straight from the bottle. He stared into the unlit fireplace as if waiting for a sign that wasn’t going to come. He knocked the bottle back, draining the last remaining bourbon and tossed it on the floor. He stood up, swaying a bit as he did. He started to walk towards the door, and he wanted to open it, but he needed it to stop moving around. Finally, he took a leap of faith and found the handle and opened the library door. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his car keys. He stumbled through the rotunda, but in his stupor went the wrong way, headed for the backyard.

“Gonna hit me, are ya,” David mumbled. “All I’ve done for you.”

In the process of stumbling around, he managed to knock a vase off of the mantle, which crashed with a massive echo. The humid night settled around him as he stepped outside. The large party patio expanded beyond him, the steps leading down to the well-manicured gardens and the Parisian-style swimming pool with its fountains. He paused, unsure why he was out back when he wanted to be out front, but he shrugged and kept shambling forward like a zombie. He stopped at the stairs, unwilling to navigate them. He sat on the top stair and began to cry. A rather ugly cry amplified by a fifth of bourbon.

Lawson had heard the vase crash, grabbed his shotgun, and ran outside. He pointed it towards David, who was in the dark, Lawson not knowing who was out there. “Freeze!” he commanded.

“Don’t shoot!” Nathan shouted, himself investigating what was happening. He happened to catch a slight glimpse of David’s hair in the moonlight. Nathan ran outside and over to David. “Jesus Christ, David. What the hell?”

Nathan waved off everyone who’d come down to see what was happening. Brock included. He saw David sitting there, now with the exterior lights on. David was mumbling something he couldn’t understand, probably something about him. Brock shook his head and turned around and walked back to his room, Adam following behind. David leaned over the side of the stairs, looking almost straight down at the flower bed below, full of flowers blooming, primarily marigolds.

“Okay, buddy,” Nathan said, “you’re really fucking drunk right now. And you’re not making any friends. In fact, you’re really pissing a lot of people off, myself included. You need to get a hold of yourself. So, why not just go to bed, sleep this off, and we can all talk about it over a very tense breakfast in the morning.”

That’s when David threw up onto the marigolds below, the flowers becoming something less beautiful and vibrant as they once were.

“Well, I'm sure the gardener won’t be too happy with you either, David.” Nathan said.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Tuesday 2 May 2023 | 08:34 CDT (UTC -5)

Breakfast was very quiet, the events of last night still reverberating in everyone’s mind. Brock sat in his usual seat with Adam to his left. Nanette had left for work very early not wanting to deal with either Nathan or David. Evan and Alexandra drank some coffee and toyed with some eggs. Nathan, unlike everyone else, simply acted like it was a normal morning and chowed down on a large plate of waffles and bacon, smiling at everyone hoping someone would say something about anything. Then, as if on cue, David entered, looking bleary eyed with his hair in all sorts of directions, shuffling around. The entire dining room stopped moving, including the staff, as he walked over to his normal seat, grabbed a coffee cup, and walked over to the staff member holding the solid silver coffee pot. The staff member poured the cup, David downed it, then took another cup, and started to walk back to his seat. He sat down, looked at the food, then pushed his plate forward.

“I’m no longer hungry,” Brock said as he stood up, took the napkin tucked in his collar out and dropped it on the table. Adam followed him and they both left the dining room. David simply watched, then took his coffee cup, got up, and walked out of the dining room.

“And just when I thought the Margraves were the most dysfunctional family, I came to Houston and saw the Devereauxs.” Nathan said as he sipped his coffee.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Tuesday 2 May 2023 | 10:54 CDT (UTC -5)

David lay on his bed, his tablet in his hand. He called out sick, partially because his hangover was pretty severe, and partially because he couldn’t face people today. He checked some work items, emails and the like, but really was just going through the motions. He tossed the tablet down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. A knock came at the door.

“Go away,” he said, not wishing to be bothered.

The knock came again.

“I said go away, don’t you understand English?” David shouted.

The door opened and Adam entered the room. He walked over to the bed and stood beside David, looking down at him, his arms folded across his chest.. “Are you happy?”

“Do I look happy?” David said as he sat up in bed, the room spinning slightly from the speed at which he moved. “I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

“You’re a mess? Brock was completely inconsolable last night. He cried, David. You made your brother cry. You know, the guy who worships the ground you fucking walk on and you want me to feel sorry for you?” Adam admonished. “Weren’t you the one who told me if I hurt Brock, you would be the one I answered to? Guess I wasn’t the one Brock had to worry about. So, I’m going to tell you what I think and you better listen to me. You ever hurt Brock again, and I swear you will answer to me.”

David took a deep breath. “Fair ‘nuff.” David lowered his head, “Brock ain’t ever hit me before. Adam, you gotta talk to him for me. I’ll do anythin’, you hear?

“I hear,” Brock said, standing in the doorway. He walked in and closed the door behind him. He sat down on the bed next to David. With a quick nod of the head towards the door he asked Adam to leave. What needed to be said was to be said only between Brock and David. Adam didn’t want to, but after another, more commanding nod, he left the room.

Brock sat there, his face stern. “When you chose to let me walk away, you really hurt me. You know, the one guy you said you’d never hurt. What, am I just supposed to drop Adam because you have a problem with him? No, it’s not happening, David. Your opinion means a lot to me, but, like, this time I don’t need your permission. So, I’m gonna give you one more shot. You can chose me and Adam, or you can fuck off. No opinion, no commentary, no nothing, David. Make your choice.”

“I can’t not have my little brother around,” David said. “You’re the only real family I got, Brock. Look, you know it’s true he ain’t gonna have an easy time adjustin’ to, well, all this. Especially in this house.”

“I know,” Brock said. “But, instead of acting like an asshole, maybe you could, oh, I don’t know, help me help Adam get used to it? Just a thought.” Brock took a deep breath “I can’t not have my big brother in my life. I need you too, Davy. But you can’t act like this. Not to me, anyway.”

“And you’re lucky all I did was slap you.” Brock added, his facial expression softening, “ I’ve been working out with Adam. I pack a meaner punch than I used to.”

David tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t help it.

Brock put his arm around David’s shoulders. Brock looked over at David and noticed something he’d only ever seen one other time. “Are you crying?”

David reached around and hugged Brock very tight. “I’m sorry, Brock.” David cried. Actual tears. In fact, it caused Brock’s dress shirt collar to get a little soggy. “Please, forgive me. I need you. I can’t lose you.”

“It’s okay, Davy,” Brock said as he returned the hug. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And I forgive you.”

by **Grand California** » Fri May 05, 2023 8:34 am

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 3 May 2023 | 19:45 CDT (GMT -5)

Adam sat at the family dining room table, the normal location of meals at Devereaux Manor. However, instead of a delicious spread of fresh foods, Adam sat in front of a formal place setting with David standing behind him and to the right and Brock behind Adam to the left. Adam looked over the place setting, his mind running rampage about the amount of forks and glasses before him. He was a simple man with simple tastes: a good steak, a burger, a beer or a nice bourbon. The idea of there being specific forks for specific items was about as foreign to him as the Cottish game of Pesäpallo. More concerning to Adam were the menacing looks from both Brock and David as he continually picked the wrong fork in spite of being told by Brock multiple times of how it all worked.

“Baby,” Brock said, “the basics are that you start on the outside and work inside, okay? And you won’t have all these forks depending on what’s being eaten. I don’t get how you aren’t understanding this.”

Adam looked back at David. All David did was shrug and smile as Brock once more walked over to the table and began to explain the place setting in front of him. “Okay, baby, one more time. Fish fork, entrée fork, salad fork.”

“But don’t you eat the salad before the meal?” Adam asked.

“Not all the time, now pay attention,” Brock said as he clapped his hand a couple of times to emphasize the word attention. He began to start explaining all over again how a formal place setting worked. As he did, Adam looked over at Brock.

“David,” Adam said, “a little help here?”

“Oh, this ain’t my thing. I’m just here for moral support,” David said. “Because Brock’s gonna need it. And I’d pay attention if I were you, you hear?”

“I think I liked you better when you didn’t like me,” Adam said.

Brock stopped and gave Adam a dirty look, “Hey, baby! Pay attention!”

David leaned forward slightly, getting closer to Adam’s ear, “I told you to pay attention, now. He don’t like being ignored.”

“Davy!” Brock commanded as he stomped his foot on the floor, “do you mind? If you’re not part of the solution, then you’re part of the problem!”

“My apologies,” David said, feigning being admonished.

Nathan walked past the dining room, taking a moment to absorb what was happening. He raised his eyebrows and gave David a peculiar look, “How long has this been going on?”

“About two hours,” David said.

“And it’d be over with if you would stop interrupting, Davy,” Brock said, his left arm now fully extended, his index finger pointing David out of the room. David threw up his hands, smiled at Nathan, and left the dining room.

M A L I B U · C A L I F O R N I A
32300 Pacific Coast Highway | Thursday 4 May 2023 | 07:53 CDT (GMT -7)

On the 32000 block of the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu sat the home of Harry and Pat Margrave, the founders of the Los Angeles branch of the Margraves. Built in 1968, the house stood as the focal point for all the family functions since the couple gave birth to Louis and Nathan. Beyond its neatly-appointed-yet-somewhat-dated decor, the home housed memories of Christmases and birthdays, of celebrations and remembrances. Built on 2.8 acres of prime beachfront property, the house made do with 6 bedrooms in the main house and a 2 bedroom beach cottage closer to the water. With its custom bar and butcher block countertops to its detached gym and its pool from which Harry, Pat, and their family could watch breathtaking California sunsets, no expense had been spared in its construction or its upkeep. By now, Harry and Pat were well into the golden years.

At 78, Harry’s hair had gone full gray, with the forehead slowly marching its way north. Winkles cut into the once handsome face as his voice weathered over the years. Pat had worn her hair long most of her life, and at 77 she didn’t bother to change it. By now the blonde hair which once flowed from her head had turned platinum as she started looking forward to great grandchildren as most of her grandchildren were fully grown. One could draw a straight line from David and Brock in Houston to Harry and Pat in Los Angeles, then to the main branch of the Grand California Margraves in Las Vegas. Every stop along the family tree another golden branch connected to a name shrouded in both glamor and controversy. In a world where the Margrave name may not always conjure images of the all-loving nuclear family, it was the Los Angeles-based Margraves that provided David and Brock a stronger family connection than anyone in Houston could imagine.

The large family room overlooked the balcony and had views of the Pacific Ocean. The walls were white with family photos and artwork scattered on its walls. The space was divided into two main sections by the arrangement of the furniture. Two coffee tables were on either side, with comfortable chairs around three sides of each, the only side without a place to sit were the sides which faced each other allowing a straight line from the doorway to the living room to the patio itself, separated from the living room by large windows with French doors in the middle to allow access to the outside. Pat sat on the balcony, her phone against her ear talking as Harry stepped outside with the morning newspaper to read the day’s happenings.

“Who’re you talking to this early?” Harry grumbled as he walked outside, placed a cup of coffee on the small table between his chair and Pat’s. He sat down, and flipped open the paper.

“It’s Brock,” Pat said with a smile.

“Oh, tell my grandson I love him,” Harry said, not wanting to be interrupted from his morning routine. “Is that bitch of a mother of his still alive?”

“Yes,” Pat said, shaking her head in disbelief that he’d say such a thing loud enough that Brock might have heard it.

“Pity,” Harry said returning to the paper.

“Oh?” Pat said, returning to the phone. “Really? Oh, Brock, I’m so happy to hear that!” Pat turned back towards Harry, “He’s getting married!”

“Congratulations, Brock,” Harry said loudly, then returned to the paper.

“Uh huh,” Pat said, pausing as Brock told her about Adam, “A contractor that owns his own construction company? Oh, that’s nice.” She nodded some more, “And when is it?” She turned back towards Harry, “they’re going to have an engagement party next month at the manor.”

“Count me out,” Harry said. “I’m not stepping foot in that goddamn house.”

Pat mouthed the word hush to Harry. He shrugged. “Oh, well, you know how it is, he’s not much for travel these days...... I know, honey, I know...... wait, I have an idea.” She turned back towards Harry, who once more put the paper down. He saw the look in her eyes and rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you two have it here? Yes, in Malibu!” Pat said into the phone with elation.

“Aw, hell,” Harry said, throwing the paper down on the patio, “that’s just what I need. Nanette here. Maybe they’ll be an earthquake and she’ll fall off the balcony. Remind me to tell the landscaper to put some rocks under it. Just in case.”

“So in 4 weeks from this Saturday? Great. Oh, yes, Grandpa Harry sends his love, sweetie. Kiss kiss. Bye bye.” Pat said as the call disconnected.

“Just what I need, a house full of Devereauxs,” Harry said, reaching down to grab the paper.

“Margraves, Harry,” Pat reminded.

“Tell that to the boys,” Harry replied.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Thursday 4 May 2023 | 12:33 CDT (GMT -5)

David had his own personal office in the manor, not quite as large as Nanette’s, but still more than enough in scale that it dwarfed many common people’s apartments. It contained a more relaxed feel, nothing like his more wild west Texas bedroom. It employed simple dark-grain woods, had a large fireplace above which hung a picture of his father. The desk was modern and subtle, but still large and encompassing. As was the case in many functional work spaces in the house, a drinks cabinet was always nearby the desk. In this office, the window overlooked the back of the house, particularly the French-style garden, something David enjoyed seeing on those stressful days. The office had two comfortable and stately chairs in front of it for face-to-face meetings, but also two sofas, plush and contemporary off to the side for those more informal times. It contained a private washroom with dual vanity and a shower and a large flat screen for video presentations if business called for it, though it more often than not displayed one of the many financial news networks, always on mute. As he busied himself replying to a few emails, a knock came at the door. After bellowing for the person to enter, Lawson opened the door followed by Winston Jefferson Epps II dressed in a light gray three piece suit with blue tie and matching pocket square and another gentleman in a blue two piece business suit with gray tie and matching pocket square, a large duffle bag in his left hand.

“Winston,” David said with a smile as he stood up to greet his guests.

“David, I’d like you to meet Antonio Calderon, Commissioner of Liga Uno." Winston said with a professional smile.

“Commissioner,” David said as he shook Antonio’s hand.

“Please, just call me Tony,” the Commissioner said.

Antonio Calderon Suarez, 37, stood around 191 cm (6’3”) tall with a noticeable athletic build and chiseled features as if he was a player on one of the soccer teams instead of running the league. Any assumption he was a player would be very well founded. Antonio, a native-born Mexican who emigrated to Grand California along with his parents when he was 11, moved to the Los Angeles area and enrolled the young Antonio into the youth academy at LA Galaxy. He moved through the youth divisions and debuted at the age of 23 for LA Galaxy where he went on to have a decent career. In 2018 he was transferred to LAFC and scored its first competitive goal in its inaugural season, and went on to become a household name for the LAFC nation. In 2020, suffered an ACL tear which ended his career. Interested in continuing to help build the league, he joined the league’s front offices since then and had recently been elected its commissioner in a vote last year.

“Winston has been working very hard to get you into the league as the potential new owner of the LAFC, a team very near and dear to my heart. We reviewed the particulars of the deal and everything looks solid to us, David. Winston here was your biggest cheerleader.”

“Winston, you’re gonna embarrass me,” David said. “Hope he ain’t had to lie ‘bout me too much.” David joked.

“Well, the league has agreed to the sale of the LAFC to DLD Sports Entertainment. I figured I’d come out to personally welcome you to Liga Uno.” Antonio extended his hand to David, who shook it vigorously.

After David had tried to purchase the Houston Dynamo last year, but missed out when the sale fell through after the owner thought twice about getting into any business deals with David Devereaux, David had worked hard to find a team to buy. Winston, being the new owner of the Dynamo, had volunteered his help to David to get him into the league. Thanks to David’s generous appeal, Winston had worked his magic as requested and now David was a two-sport owner.

“Wherever you’re stayin’ at, may I gotta connection at the Four Seasons? One phone call and it’s yours.” David said.

“Appreciated, but I’m heading back to Los Angeles tonight. I was already in town on business visiting the various clubs and wanted to meet our newest owner in person. Looking forward to seeing you around the league.”

Antonio stood up from the desk, looked down and smiled, “Almost forgot. Here’s your swag bag, for lack of a better term.” Antonio said as he picked up the large duffle and put it on David’s desk. He opened the bag and pulled out authentic jerseys from the team with a specific one for David with his last name on it and the number 1. The rest were for him to do with as he saw fit.

“That’s great,” David said as he tore open the plastic protecting the jersey from the elements. He held it up forward and backward to see it.

“Enjoy!. Winston,” Antonio said as he started towards the door. Winston stood up and opened the door to let Antonio out. He stopped briefly and looked back at David and flashed a thumbs up.

“Look for my courier later for some more swag,” David said with a mischievous smile.

------

David entered the living room, duffle bag over his shoulder. Evan sat on the couch watching television, his board shorts and flip flops the only clothing. On television, the Houston Dynamo were playing the LAFC with the game tied 1-1 at the 87th minute. David reached into the duffle bag and tossed a wrapped jersey at Evan. “Lookin’ a little chilly, cousin.”

Evan grabbed the bag and looked at it. He looked back at David, knowing full well David was a Houston sports fan all the way, his look quizzical in nature. “Switching teams because your team sucks?”

“Ha,” David chuckled, “Nah, I just bought’em. LAFC that is.”

“No shit?” Evan said, his face bright with excitement. “Maybe my best cuz can hook me up with some sideline tickets?”
“Prolly, but...,” David said, sitting down next to Evan as Evan ripped open the package and slid the jersey on, checking it for fit. “Uncle Nate said you ain’t working for granddaddy Harry anymore?

“No,” Evan said, “I’m not much of a real estate guy. It’s a nice gig, but I need something else."

David said, “Well, then, I gotta job you might like.”

“Uh, sure?” Evan questioned, “What would I be doing?”

“I ain’t able to be two places at once, so I need someone I can trust out there. How about you take a role as Executive Vice President of the club and my right-hand man,” David said. “Since y’all out in LA already, it makes it easy.”

“I absolutely accept,” Evan said, nearly jumping out of his seat with joy.

“You report directly to me, Evan,” David said. “Ain’t nobody got authority over you but me, you hear?”

“Loud and clear,” Evan said.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” David said with a smile, “Welcome aboard.”

Evan shook David’s hand, “Yes, sir!” he said with a faux salute to his new boss.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Friday 5 May 2023 | 06:32 CDT (GMT -5)

A gray, cloudy day descended upon Houston, another storm system pulling into the area bringing an end to Summerlike weather and reminding people that Spring was still in charge. David stepped outside of the manor, his black Lexus pulled in front of the door by one of the staff members. He took his briefcase and tossed it onto the passenger seat and sat behind the wheel. With a quick push of a button, the car sprang to life, purring like a kitten. Ensuring the seatbelt and mirrors were in their perfect positions, he put the car in drive and headed around the circle in front of the house and made a right to head down the driveway and onto the street. The front gate slid open as the guard shack noticed his approach. Turning left, he headed out into the City of Houston making his way towards Devereaux Tower. While his position came with a chauffeur-driven company car, he preferred to drive. He never liked people making decisions for him, even when it came to routes to be taken or speed of travel.

Turning out of his neighborhood and onto the main street, following the access ramp to 610. The signs pointing to central Houston guided his way, their green face and white font a standard, recognizable Californian design. As the traffic around him flowed, the normal traffic jams heading into downtown became evident with the traffic reports across the radio station. The satnav in the car alerted him to an accident up ahead and he sighed realizing his travels would take longer. With the next available exit not too far, he returned to surface streets. Behind him, a yellow pickup truck did the same. David navigated the surface streets, the skyline of Houston growing in size as he approached. From his direction, he would have to pass through a railroad crossing, but that wasn’t normally a big deal. Unless he caught the massive freight trains that thundered their way from the ports and Houston to points north and west.

He approached the railroad crossing, the clanging beginning and the lights flashing. The gate arms began to lower. While he wanted to run it, he wasn’t interested in playing chicken with a mile and a half long freight train. He pulled up, the first car in the line, which grew behind him. The BNSF engine blared its horn, a typical warning to clear the tracks. The powerful locomotive in its orange and black, known colloquially as pumpkins, approached quickly. Suddenly, he felt the yellow truck behind him push his Lexus, the sound of the bumper crushing as he nailed the breaks to prevent the car from being pushed onto the track. Screeching tires from the truck caused thick white smoke to billow from the asphalt. The Lexus became incapable of preventing the force of the pickup truck from pushing him into the railroad crossing. The front of the car broke through the arm, then the rest of the car. He came to a stop partially on the tracks as the engineer laid on the horn, his speed and weight too fast to stop in time to prevent an accident. David nailed the accelerator, the tires screeching. The Lexus lurched forward as the train entered the crossing. The engine made contact with the back of the car causing it to violently spin. It first bounced off of the engine of the powerful locomotive, then into the nearby cars waiting on the other side of the crossing.

Several frantic phone calls to emergency service went out from the witnesses, police and EMS arriving within 10 minutes. The engineer and conductor of the massive freight train also arrived on the scene to inspect the damage to the car, to check on David, and inspect the gate crossing, which, in the process, had been damaged and partially knocked over. On the other side of the stopped freight train, the yellow Chevy Avalanche had fled the scene, the only trace it had ever been there was some rubber residue from the tires spinning in place and a few pieces of yellow paint left on David’s bumper.

David lay motionless in the driver’s seat, his head bleeding from several places, slightly slumped over the wheel, leaning toward the driver’s side window, which had been shattered by his head.

by **Grand California** » Sun May 07, 2023 3:01 am

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Friday 5 May 2023 | 07:26 CDT (GMT -5)

In times of family emergency, the Devereaux household pulled together. Even those elements of the family which didn’t get along under normal circumstances pulled in towards the center and presented a united and formidable front. Nanette focused her attention on the media, getting out in front of the story of her son being nearly killed in what appears to have been attempted murder. Her demeanor gave the press little of the salaciousness that it wanted while also giving her an excuse to act as the true head of the family. She also had a real knack at playing a heartbroken mother--the kind of heartbroken mother that would swell the level of sympathetic hearts when her interview was broadcast. Brock, being David’s closest confidant, had strict orders in case something happened. In his bedroom David kept a special folder in a hidden safe which Brock and only Brock knew its location. In this folder, Brock would find David’s living will, his last will and testament (which left everything to Brock), the power of attorney (in which Brock was named as David’s sole POA), the listing of all David’s assets including those known to no one else but David complete with access codes and account numbers, as well as a duffle bag with 5 million bucks if he was ever held for ransom. The addition of Nathan meant that someone could keep the LA based Margraves fully informed of all details. Adam filled in wherever directed, though he primarily found himself as Brock's emotional support in all of his efforts. Evan, having signed the contract to handle LAFC, immediately began exercising his executive authority to begin the transition of ownership process. Alexandra remained glued to her phone, primarily to keep the family abreast of the more tabloid takes on the events of the morning. Finally, Lawson, as the majordomo, recalled all staff to the house to support the family, each one more individually than normal, nonstop until the emergency ended. Lawson himself began the process of starting his own personal investigation into what was happening, being a former police officer and army colonel he had connections all over. The most important action right now was to get to the hospital.

The luxury SUV pulled up in front of Houston Regional Medical Center, one of the city’s top hospitals. The driver, dressed in a gray three piece, stepped out and opened the passenger rear door. Adam stepped out first, still in his gym clothes. He held out his hand and escorted Brock from the SUV, wearing a blue t-shirt, blue jeans, and sunglasses. The electronic camera shutters clicked like near silent machine guns as the couple began to make their way towards the electronic sliding doors. Adam, never before having lived the paparazzi experience before nearly grabbed one of the cameras when it was shoved into his face, a bit too close for comfort. Brock pulled him by their clasped hands letting him know to keep moving. As they passed, the paparazzi and press shouted questions asking things like if they had any status updates or who they thought might want to attack David. The press had dashcam footage of the incident within an hour of its occurrence. They always found a way. Brock said nothing, having long learned the only way to deal with this nuisance is to just ignore it.

The doors slid open, two nurses waited for Brock. A doctor in his lab coat also stood at the door. They escorted Brock and his fiancee to the 7th floor, a private floor of a very state-funded and public hospital. The rooms here were larger, private, and offered a few more services not found on other floors. Didn’t matter to Brock, though. They could’ve had a full open bar and he wouldn’t have noticed. He followed the medical team into room 704. Brock paused at the entrance, fearful of what he might see behind it. The medical team had not told him anything, they were just there for moral support. David’s doctors were busy dealing with David’s x-rays and other preliminary tests.

Brock stood at the doorway to the hospital room, petrified to enter. No information had been given over the phone. Just that David had been in a “serious” accident and that he should get to the hospital “as quickly as possible.” Adam stood behind Brock, placing his hands on Brock’s shoulders, squeezing them slightly and giving him a little nudge forward. Brock removed his sunglasses and hung them from the collar of his t-shirt. He walked in, slowly. The sight of David unconscious in a hospital bed was enough to trigger Brock’s tears. David’s head was bandaged, a large gauze pad on his forehead just above his left eye, stained somewhat with blood that had seeped through. His left wrist was wrapped in a medical bandage. His eyes were closed, head slightly to the left, his hair unkempt and speckled somewhat with sweat and blood. The blankets were pulled up to just under David’s chest, both arms kept outside and down his sides. His hospital gown, which fastled along the trapezius, was somewhat undone as his left shoulder where the shoulder belt crossed was exceptionally bruised and needed tending. Brock stood at David’s right, took his hand and placed it between his using the hand on top to pat David’s hand. Adam stood next to Brock, just there in case he was needed.

“Hey, Davy,” Brock said, unsure of what else to say. David remained still, unconscious.

“Excuse me, Mr. Devereaux,” the silver-haired man said, his lab coat and stethoscope around neck giving away his profession. “I’m Dr. Edmundo Suarez.”

“Doctor, this is my fiancée, Adam.” Brock said.

The doctor nodded at Adam, then took Brock aside, “Mr. Devereaux, your brother’s overall going to be okay. He has a broken wrist, a bruised sternum, collarbone, and most likely suffered a concussion from when his head smashed into the glass. Obviously he has lacerations. He’s been unconscious since emergency services first arrived on the scene. He has some swelling in the brain which we believe is causing his unconsciousness. We’re working to reduce the swelling, but see no reason he won’t make a full recovery in the course of time.”

“Thank god,” Brock said in a moment of relief, “do you think he’ll, like, wake up anytime soon?”

“Too early to tell, but right now all we have to do is wait and see how everything goes. We’re going to keep him until we are certain there’s no permanent damage anywhere. Quite honestly, he’s lucky to be alive. God must have a plan for him.”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Anyway, uh, thank you, doctor. If you don’t mind, I just kinda want to be alone with Adam and my brother right now. Oh, and some arrangements for sleeping. I’m not leaving his side right now, okay?”

“Very well, Mr. Devereaux,” Dr. Suarez said. “If you need me, please have the nurses call me.” Dr. Suarez smiled at Adam, then left the room, closing the hospital room door behind him.

Brock looked at Adam, “I could really use some coffee right now, baby. Would you mind?”

“Yeah, whatever you want, my love,” Adam smiled, then winked. He left the room.

Brock returned to David’s side. “I swear, Davy, I was never so scared than when I got that phone call this morning. And the thought that you didn’t make it scare the hell out of me. Look at you, beat to hell but still here.”

L J ' s · H O U S E
Houston, Texas | Friday 5 May 2023 | 12:34 CDT (GMT -5)

He stood in his garage, the yellow Chevy Avalanche is in pretty good condition, considering. Some damage to the bumper, but nothing that could be fix easily. Of course, LJ knew that he could just take it to a body shop to have it worked on. The news reports replayed the incident captured from someone’s dash cam over and over asking the public to report any information on the whereabouts of the truck to contact law enforcement. Any honest repair shop would report the truck immediately. Families like the Devereauxs absolutely offer a reward for that information and money was a powerful influence. He opened the door which connected the garage to the house and walked into the kitchen where he ripped open the refrigerator door and grabbed himself a beer. At least in Houston, the 7 million person metropolitan area had to contain thousands of yellow pickups. It would be difficult for law enforcement to figure out who did it. At least that’s what LJ thought. Still, he wouldn’t take the chance. The current plan was to take the truck out of town and dispose of it. Then, to plot another plan to take down David Devereaux once and for all.

He turned on the television, the noon news replaying the dashcam footage from earlier. Then they played the part of the interview with Nanette in which she offered a five million dollar reward for information leading to the capture of whomever had done this to her son. Then a brief info piece on the Devereaux family and their boundless charitable contributions to the City of Houston and its surrounding areas. He turned off the television, throwing the remote on the table with enough force the battery compartment door popped off causing one of the AAA batteries to bounce onto the floor. He leaned back on the sofa and took a very long drink from the bottle. As he did, he saw the video one more time and noticed something. He wasn’t quite sure what he saw and the news had finally moved onto another story so he pulled out his phone and pulled up the video.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Friday 5 May 2023 | 13:52 CDT (GMT -5)

Lawson worked his sources, his phone nearly out of battery long before the afternoon started. His laptop spun in a frenzy as the amount of browser tabs open on his computer numbered well into the thirties. Any tidbit of information, any traffic camera footage, any reports he could get his hands on as they became available were opened for him to review as the day went on. The thing he concentrated on the most was the dashcam footage of the incident. Due to the smoke and the distance from the truck, there wasn’t a way to get any information about the truck’s license plate, but he kept replaying the video over and over again. He paid attention to the industrial area in which the incident occurred wondering if any of those businesses had footage. He also knew if they did, the police would get them long before he could. As he reviewed the video for probably the 100th time, he noticed something he hadn’t seen before. A person standing in one of the parking lots. He held up his phone as the train was approaching. Not like someone recording the accident. He was already in place when the video began. He was off to the side, in the distance near the tracks at the edge of the video. A rail fan. A breed of YouTuber who went to various places and recorded freight and passenger trains to post on their channels. At least, that was the only thing that made sense. Otherwise, why was the guy holding up his cell phone?

Lawson began searching YouTube to see what he could find. A simple YouTube search on the Sawyer Street crossing showed multiple videos of freight trains crossing through over a long period of time. Most of the videos came from one channel in particular, someone whose channel was called Bayou City Rail Fan. There were hundreds of train videos on the channel, hours and hours of video to watch to see if he could see what this person looked like. He scanned the channel’s main page and noticed an Instagram link. Clicking on the little icon link, Instagram popped open to the channel’s IG account. Lots of train pictures, but in the bio a link to a ‘personal account.’ Lawson clicked on that, but it was marked private and he couldn’t see anything. The bio did reveal one clue. Whomever this person was, his first name was Lucas. Lawson returned to searching the internet for Lucas Houston rail fan and any combination of words that might pull up something. The one thing that wasn’t located was the video taken by that guy’s cell phone earlier. That wasn’t uploaded as far as Lawson could tell.

S A G E B R U S H · C O R N E R
Spring Branch Central, Houston, Texas | Friday 5 May 2023 | 15:40 CDT (GMT -5)

Sagebrush Corner stood in northwest Houston, a small apartment complex offering modest accommodation for residents who couldn’t afford the nicer, more expensive neighborhoods. In building 4, living in apartment 245 was a young man just starting out in life. The two bedroom apartment came with the standard apartment look: white painted walls with a white ceiling, a light colored carpet on which sat a large, well-worn green couch. In front of it a small coffee table with knicks and scratches, the kind which was most likely found outside someone’s home on trash day. On a cheap table sat a 40 inch flatscreen television, a model somewhat outdated evidenced by its key selling point being listed on the bevel: 1080p HD. The small kitchen didn’t contain room for a dining table. It barely had enough room for one person to cook, but it did the trick. The main bedroom where the apartment’s renter slept was rather vacant save for a full sized bed that had seen somewhat better days and a television rather haphazardly rigged on top of an old CRT tv stand. The second bedroom, however, stood in stark contrast to the rest of the apartment. A brand new L-shaped computer desk dominated the far left corner with a massive, neon-glowing gaming tower the centerpiece of its surface. Three monitors, each one 4K in resolution, were mounted on vesa mounts with two on the bottom and one on the top. A sleek gaming chair, brand new as evidenced by the tag still flapping in the air condition. Along the trim where the wall met the ceiling, rope lighting was used, all in white, to give the room some color. Two soft boxes hung on either side of the long end of the L-shaped desk pointed towards the gaming chair. On the desk was a microphone on a spring-mounted microphone arm and an audio interface where anything spoken on the mic could be recorded into the computer and uploaded elsewhere. On the back wall, directly behind the chair, were shelves with various items like figurines of famous computer game heroes and villains, some various items the likes of which would be found in almost any streamer’s background, and a few books just for the hell of it.

Lucas Gallagher, 23, was born in Denver, but his family moved to Houston years ago when his father got a job with an oil company. His father split with a younger woman leaving him to be raised by his mother. After graduating high school, Lucas worked two jobs: one part time at a fast food restaurant, one full time at a call center. When his mother wanted to move back to Denver to be with family, he decided to remain in Houston. It wasn’t the greatest life, but he had a place of his own and just about most things he wanted. What he never bargained for was being someone who had pertinent information about an attempted murder on his cell phone. Lucas, known to some on YouTube as Bayou City Rail Fan and others on Twitch as HTwonFunkBoy, rewatched the video again. The yellow pickup pushing the black sedan onto the tracks as the train raced towards it, the attempt to get away before the train hit, and the sound of the accident. While Lucaas kept filming, he managed to catch the yellow truck as it hightailed it away from the scene and just happened to catch a brief glimpse of the front license plate of the truck. Originally, he thought he should turn it over to the police. It was, after all, the right thing to do. However, upon reconsideration, he thought that if someone was trying to kill someone and he had the attempted murder on video, that if it ever came out he was the one who recorded it, he might suffer the same fate as the poor guy in the black car.

He sat down in the gaming chair and tapped the keyboard, with a slight whirl, the system awakened from its sleep. On the bottom right monitor, he had his email pulled up. Mostly just emails from YouTube or Twitch fans trying to talk to him. And then one from Steven Lawson which captured his attention immediately. The subject line read: I know you have the video. To say a chill ran through his body would be an understatement. It was as if he’d been thrown into the arctic completely naked in the middle of winter. With nauseating trepidation, he clicked on the email. The email began with a pretty formal explanation of who Steven Lawson was and what he wanted. It was explained he worked for the gentleman in the black car and if he could call this number that was given, he could reach Steven any time of the day or night. Lucas connected his phone to the computer and uploaded the video for safe keeping, then deleted it from his phone as he contemplated calling whomever this Steven Lawson person was.

M I N U T E · M A I D · P A R K
Houston, Texas | Friday 5 May 2023 | 18:32 CDT (GMT -5)

Minute Maid Field roared with excitement, the game soon to begin. A packed crowd filled every single seat in what some had dubbed The Juice Box. Pregame activities included some meandering around the sidelines by the players of both the Houston Hurricanes and the Seattle Mariners. Various young kids raced up to the fencing which protected fans from foul balls trying to get an autograph from their favorite--or any--pro baseball player. After some of the outfielders checked the surface for themselves and had some warmups before the game, the field cleared as each team retreated to their respective dugouts. As everyone got ready for the start of the game, the team made a special announcement in support of their CEO and managing partner David Devereaux with the stadium announcer stating that the Houston Hurricanes, and the City of Houston were #DavidStrong. There was even a brief pause--not a moment of silence--before the national anthem began signaling the game was soon to start.

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Saturday 6 May 2023 | 00:02 CDT (GMT -5)

Brock and Adam sat next to each other on the hospital chairs always there for visitors. Brock was asleep, slanted slightly to his left, his head on Adam’s shoulder. Adam, likewise, was asleep, slanted slightly to his right, his head on top of Brock’s. David’s hospital room was nearly dark, save for a few lights on dear him and a light by the door so that attending nurses and physicians who needed to get in would be able to see enough to make their way across the large hospital room. David remained unconscious, roughly in the same position Brock first saw him in earlier in the day. His hair had finally been cleaned, one of the nurses taking particular interest in ensuring David was properly sponge bathed. Perhaps if he’d been awake, he’d have enjoyed the experience more.

The noise came from outside the door, a commotion. Perhaps a scuffle. The sound of chattering while someone else with a rather booming female voice began to echo around the 7th floor of the hospital getting nearer to the door. The sound eventually caused Adam to stir. He lifted his head, the kink in his neck causing him some slight discomfort. Adam’s movement caused Brock to arouse. With a quick twist of his head, he snapped the bones in his neck back into place, something which gave Adam the heebee jeebees. As the shouting intensified and words could be picked out of the cacophony, Brock stood up, a most curious look on his face. Adam looked up at Brock, the look telling him that he knew who was coming.

“What?” Adam said. “Who is it?”

“I think it’s....” Brock said as the door to the hospital room burst open. A 79 year old woman in a designer red and black dress, matching stilettos and floppy hat clacked into the hospital room one determined footstep at a time while still spouting off at the mouth.

“Ain’t no one gonna keep me from my grandson, you son of a bitch,” she said, shouting loud enough to wake the dead. “And someone better get me my champagne and caviar pretty damn quick, you hear? I’m simply famished after that long flight from Tahiti.”

“...Grandma Devereaux,” Brock finished.

by **Grand California** » Mon May 08, 2023 12:01 pm

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Saturday 6 May 2023 | 08:42 CDT (GMT -5)

There were family fights, then there was the War of the Devereauxs. Taking place between the death of Edward Devereaux on January 7, 2019 and Christmas Day of the same year, the war saw the united Devereaux family fractured along battle lines no one could’ve possibly seen. Shortly after the reading of the will, it became apparent to Nanette that her father did not trust her to take the reins of the family business. The will gave control to both Nanette and her brother, Matthew, until such time as David, the first-born grandson, could assume control himself. Of the four grandchildren of Elizabeth and Edward Devereaux, David was, in Edward’s opinion, the only one who had the drive, determination, and the skills to assume Edward’s role. Matthew disagreed believing that he should be the natural heir and his own children, who were younger than David and Brock, came of age and they would follow in Matthew’s footsteps. The power plays escalated from simple sabotage to corporate espionage, to outright fistfights. Ultimate, through legal wrangling and Nanette’s penchant for playing dirty, she managed to wrest Matthew’s shares from him and his family, exiled Matthew, his wife and children to a middle management position with Devereaux Oil in its Kansas City office, and Elizabeth hightailing it to Tahiti because, as she put it, she couldn’t bear to see her family being torn apart by greed.

The problem started when Nanette believed she could outmaneuver David. In all of her calculations, she never accounted for David’s willingness to resort to less-than-legal tactics. When she made a move against David wherein he would lose a substantial portion of his shares and any chance at a position within the family business--something he’d been training for his entire life--he launched the nuclear option in which he raided Nanette’s files, hacked into her computer, and found documents detailing her involvement in an insider training scandal in which she could have gone to jail for 20 years. Instead of turning her in, he made demands. With Elizabeth standing directly behind him, she was forced to agree to the terms outlined in the will and to stop her legal challenges to it. Nanette would relinquish her shares to David, making him the majority shareholder in the company. The stipulation was that it has an execution date: December 29, 2023. The day David turns 28. The same age Edward took over the company from his father. It didn’t help that her last hope of overturning Edward’s will vaporized when, quite unknowingly, Nathan Margrave handed Nanette the information the Margraves had against her in the death of her husband. Evidence that they were handed by an unknown source, but being Margraves, the evidence was researched and verified to the tiniest detail. It further derailed Nanette’s plans when David was confirmed as COO by the board in spite of her best attempts to derail that process. The board only cared about results and David delivered results.

As Elizabeth had taken a side against her own daughter, Nanette had banished Elizabeth, more or less, from the family. Elizabeth agreed to leave, though not because Nanette wanted it, but because she had more money than god and wanted to spend her last years on a tropical beach in Californian Polynesia. So, when Elizabeth suddenly appeared in the hospital, Brock didn’t know what to say or do. Mainly because he was the only one who didn’t take a side, which came with its own issues.

“Don’t stand there like a fly on a cow’s ass, give your grandmother a kiss, Brock,” Elizabeth said as she sauntered her way towards Brock. He walked towards her, giving her a proper kiss on the cheek and a hug.

“It’s been a while, Grandma,” Brock said. “Oh, this is Adam. My fiancee.”

Elizabeth paused and then looked Adam up and down. Adam smiled unsure what to do while the official inspection was being done. “Well, ain’t he a tall drink of water. Looks a bit old for you, though.”

“He owns his own construction company,” Brock said. “He’s only 31.”

“I see,” Elizabeth said, the smile vanishing from her face. “Well, Adam... uh I don’t believe I caught your last name?”

“Campbell,” Adam said as he extended his hand towards Elizabeth.

“Campbell. Campbell,” Elizabeth said, trying to place the surname. “Are you related to the Phoenix Campbells?” Elizabeth asked, trying to place him with a family she’d consider worthy enough to marry into the Devereauxs.

“No, ma’am, we’re from Tyler,” Adam said.

“Tyler,” Elizabeth said with a hmph after, “I don’t believe I’m familiar with those Campbells.”

Brock reached over and grabbed Adam’s hand. As Elizabeth kept giving him the death glance, Adam squeezed harder and hard.

“Ow, baby, you’re hurting me,” Brock said, wincing in pain slightly.

“Well, I guess if you caught Brock’s eye it doesn’t matter if your family is unknown, congratulations.” Elizabeth shrugged as he spoke.

Brock smiled at Adam, trying to apologize with his eyes. Adam shrugged it off.

Elizabeth then turned her attention to David, peaceful and still, recovery slowly beginning. She walked to the side of his bed and took his right hand in hers. She held it up, then leaned down and kissed David’s hand. She put his hand back to his side, then started to stroke his hair. “Oh, David. Whoever did this to you, I’ll hang their balls off the back of my Mercedes as a trophy.”

As Elizabeth busied herself trying to absorb David’s condition, Adam leaned in towards Brock’s ear and whispered, “Is she always this... welcoming?”

“Baby, you have no idea,” Brock said very quietly, the exasperation filling his voice and face like an overabundance of cheap perfume.

H O U S T O N · I N T E R N A T I O N A L · A I R P O R T
Houston, Texas | Saturday 6 May 2023 | 13:17 CDT (GMT -5)

“I can’t believe they lost my damn luggage,” Harry said as he walked from the baggage claim terminal at Houston International Airport. “First time I flew commercial in 20 years. Glad to see they haven’t changed.”

“Oh, Harry, they know where it’s at,” Pat said as she rubbed Harry’s shoulders. “They’ll drop it by the manor and you’ll have it tomorrow.”

“Thank you for reminding me we’re staying with Nanette,” Harry said. “Maybe she’s invited us to finally kill us all.”

“And she could’ve at least sent the plane for us if she wanted us here,” Harry protested.

“Harry,” Pat said, “it is her son in the hospital.”

“Just look at it like this, a chance to clear the air before the engagement party at our place next month,” Pat said.

Harry turned and smiled at Pat, “Always trying to find a silver lining. I knew I didn’t marry you just because of your looks. Though, they’re still killer.”

“I still don’t know why she didn’t send the plane, would it have killed her?” Harry protested.

“Because Evan is taking back to Los Angeles in the morning, she didn’t want to send it empty and you insisted on coming now instead of waiting,” Pat said. “He has to deal with that new baseball team for David.”

“Soccer team,” Harry said.

Harry and Pat walked through the concourse towards the main lobby of the airport. By the door a well-dressed man held a placard with the name Margrave written on it. Pat pulled her roller bag behind her, Harry walking beside her.

“Mr & Mrs. Margrave,” the driver said as he put the placard down. “Your ride awaits.” He walked Harry and Pat outside and opened the door to the black stretch limo. He took Pat’s bag. “And your luggage, Mr. Margrave?”

“Those mother fuckers lost it,” Harry said. Pat grabbed him and pulled him into the car hoping to avoid yet another scene at the airport.

S A G E B R U S H · C O R N E R
Houston, Texas | Saturday 6 May 2023 | 13:33 CDT (GMT -5)

Lucas toyed with his phone, Lawson’s number ready to be dialed. Having finally seen the news reports, he was aware of the rather large reward. And his hope was that his video would land him five million dollars. The things he could do with that much cash. He could go to Denver, reunite with his mother. Or bring her back to Houston and buy her a house and a car. No, two cars. And two houses. And all the streaming equipment he wanted. Yet, there was some sneaky suspicion hanging over his head. If he called Lawson, would people find out he was the one who took the video. Would the person who tried to kill the guy in the black car try to kill him? He went to turn the screen off, but accidentally tapped the touchscreen causing the phone to dial. He didn’t realize it in that second until he heard a voice on the other end saying hello.

“Uh,” Lucas said, his voice shaky and uncertain, “Is this Mr. Lawson?”

“Lucas, is that you?” Lawson asked.

“Yeah, I mean, I guess, I mean..... I’m sorry,” Lucas said. “I’m just afraid that if I give you the video the guy who pushed your friend into the train will come after me.”

“That won’t happen,” Lawson said, “we can protect you. Do you know who the guy in the yellow truck tried to kill?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t see who it was,” Lucas said.

“Have you ever heard of David Devereaux?”

It took Lucas all of one second to remember the name. Considering the Devereaux name was on numerous buildings around the Houston area, plus there were always news stories about Devereaux Enterprises, no one who spent any real time in Houston would not know who David was. Even if they were in Vancouver or Toronto or Boise, they’d know. “The billionaire, right?

“Yes, that’s right. Look, I will send one of our cars to pick you up at a location of your choosing, okay? When you’re ready. Doesn’t have to be today or tomorrow. When you’re ready, just call me and tell me where to have the car meet you. And we’ll bring you here, okay?” Lawson said.

“Uh, yeah, um,” Lucas said, “and then I get the money?”

“Only if we can get information from it that leads to us finding out who did this. So we’ll want to see the video first. But if you have good information, you’ll leave here a rich man.” Lawson said.

“Fine, I’ll call you when I’m ready, okay?” Lucas said. Then he hung up.

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Saturday 6 May 2023 | 13:42 CDT (GMT -5)

Elizabeth slept in the empty patient room next to David’s, mainly due to the amount of alcohol consumed on the flight and the bottle of champagne she had after her arrival.. Brock and Adam continued their vigil over David. The expectation that Nanette would have at least stopped by going unfulfilled. Brock had Lawson bring some clothes over and had changed into one of his two hundred finely-tailored, designer suits. Adam also wore one of the suits that Brock had bought for him, a mid gray suit that made him look, in Brock’s eyes, very handsome and professional. The constant vigil was taking its toll on Adam. Being cooped up in a stuffy hospital room where they couldn’t do much except watch basic cable and wait made him antsy. Everything in his life in the past month was a whirlwind. He wasn’t upset, but it was so much so fast that he was beginning to wonder when it would ever stop. Now, while he stayed in the hospital to give Brock all the moral support he needed, his own company was calling him to come into the office to handle some issues.

“Brock,” Adam said, “I have to get into the office at some point today. And we still have final walkthroughs for Club Alexander to do. Now, I’m sure David appreciates the constant company, but he, of all people, would understand you have things to do including just taking a breather.”

“No,” Brock replied, “when I was recovering from my Granddaddy’s anger, he didn’t leave my side. Not once. He just sat in the chair that he moved by my bedside and talked. Now, I’m just repaying the favor. If you need to go, then go. I understand. I’m certain Davy understands. I’m gonna be fine, baby. And I know you’re here for me too.” He leaned in and kissed Adam on the lips with a tender, lingering kiss.

Adam responded, extending the kiss, reaching behind Brock and wrapping his hands around him.

“Aww, hell,” a raspy, dry-throated voice said. “Woke up to see this shit?”

Brock whipped his head around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, “Davy?!”

“It ain’t Jesus. Close, but still,” David said, looking around at where he was at

“Adam, get the doctor,” Brock said as he ran over. “Stop talking, save your voice, Davy. Oh my god, I’m so glad you woke up!” Brock’s eyes were shining and his face beaming.

“Wait, where the hell am I” David asked

“Davy, you were almost killed in an accident,” Brock said.

He was trying not to rile up David, wanting him to relax and rest. The truth could be revealed later; however, the moment the words left Brock’s mouth, David’s eyes began shifting as his brain started recalling the events that led him to his stay in the hospital. He remembered being hit from behind and his car pushed. He remembered fighting it, but when the train started to get too close he floored it, then the bouncing, the sound of the train horn on full, unending blast, then his head hitting something, and then he was here.

“The yellow truck,” David said, the light bulb appearing above his head. “That fucker. If I get my hands on’em, I’m gonna make’em wish they killed me.”

by **Grand California** » Tue May 09, 2023 10:04 am

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Saturday 6 May 2023 | 14:15 CDT (GMT -5)

Harry and Pat bound through the front door of Devereaux Manor, their eyes immediately fixating on Nathan as he stood there, toothy smile on his face, arms open, head turned slightly left and tilted back as if he was welcoming his parents to the circus. Pat immediately jaunted over and hugged him while Harry held out his wrinkly hand for a shake. Behind him stood Alexandra and Evan, as well as Nanette. Harry and Pat’s grandkids hugged their grandparents while Nanette simply smiled politely and gave them a welcoming smile. The limo driver followed behind carrying Pat’s luggage and placing it down beside Lawson, who was patiently waiting to take a load of suitcases to their prepared bedroom. Lawson flashed a curious look at Harry and Pat when he saw only one roller case and nothing else.

“The airline lost it,” Harry said while throwing his hands up in the air in indignation. “Now, how’s my grandson?”

“I’m amazing,” Evan said with a jokester smile.

“I mean David, smartass,” Harry replied while rolling his eyes.

Nanette stepped forward, a glass of champagne in her hand, “Brock phoned about 10 minutes ago, he’s awake, finally. According to the doctor, he should be able to come home in a day or two.”

“Well, then Pat and I will get settled in and head over. Nanette, if you want to ride with us, don’t.” Harry took Pat by the arm and walked her down the corridor towards their bedroom.

“Just one big happy family,” Nathan said with a wink towards Nanette.

While the hostilities from Harry were expected, what happened next was not expected. There were no warnings, no phone calls, not even a hint that something like this was about to waltz through the front door of Devereaux Manor. Just as Harry and Pat were entering their room and the welcoming committee were breaking up to go about their lives again, Elizabeth Devereaux opened the door, walked in, and stopped. She saw everyone walking away and no one there to greet her, which she shouldn’t have expected, but being Elizabeth she did.

“Ain’t no one gonna say hi to me?” Elizabeth said standing in the doorway, arms akimbo.

“Mother?” Nanette said, her face turning to pure white as she knocked back the remaining champagne in the glass.

“The one and only, Nanette. You remember me, don’t ya?” Elizabeth said. “Now give your mother a kiss and get someone to help her with her bags, you hear?”

Nanette walked over and kissed Elizabeth on the cheek, snapping her fingers as she did towards Lawson directing him outside to grab the 6 different pieces of luggage she’d brought with her for however long her trip was about to last.

“How was the trip?” Nanette said.

“Long, excruciating, and filled with dread. All I did the whole way was worry about David, but I just left the hospital not long ago.” Elizabeth said. “Think he’s gonna be fine.”

“Brock called. He woke up about 15 minutes ago, Mother. So we’re celebrating,” Nanette said. “Champagne?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” she said, taking a glass from the staff member who’d brought another tray full of glasses. “And a little caviar wouldn’t hurt.”

The sound of someone coming down the hallway caused Elizabeth to turn. She saw Harry and Pat making their way back towards the rotunda. When they reached about halfway, they saw Elizabeth, standing there in her way. Pat smiled politely while Harry almost turned around to return to the bedroom. What stopped him was Pat grabbing his arm as if to say walk away and die. Pat almost dragged Harry to meet Elizabeth, something which filled Harry with dread every single step of the way.

“Well, if it isn’t Elizabeth herself,” Harry said, his lips tight.

“Harry, the last time I saw you was at Edward’s funeral. Let me know when yours is so I can plan to be there, too.” Elizabeth said.

“Nonsense. My plan is to outlive you and dance on your grave. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go see my grandson.” Harry and Pat slipped out the door. As they did, Pat turned around mouthing the words ‘I’m so sorry’ as they did.

“Mrs. Devereaux, you look like a billion dollars as always,” Nathan said, his charming smile working overtime.

“Now that’s a boy with some class,” Elizabeth replied. Nathan walked over and held out his arm for Elizabeth to take. She did, with grace and dignity, then Nathan escorted her to the room as Lawson struggled to bring all her luggage to one of the open bedrooms.

Nanette took another glass from the staff member with the tray of champagne glasses, “Keep them flowing, Thomas.”

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Sunday 7 May 2023 | 11:23 CDT (GMT -5)

“We figure that your wrist should heal in 6-12 weeks, but you’ll probably continue to have discomfort after that time. Especially as you begin to transition back to having full mobility. Things you did will be more difficult until you rebuild the strength in your arm. Should be a few months after we remove the splint that you will have full and complete use of it again. The wound on your head should be healed in a few weeks. Cuts and bruises are already starting to heal on their own. So, 3-6 months from now and you’ll be almost back to normal.” Dr. Suarez said. “And under no circumstances should you play sports or exercise or exert much physical activity until you’re fully healed. It could slow down the healing process. I recommend at least 3 weeks off from work, I’ll be happy to submit a note to that effect.”

“Thanks,” David said, quite unhappy with the information.

“We’ll make sure Davy doesn’t do any of that,” Brock said, catching a side-eye glare from David in the process. “What? The faster you heal, the faster you get back to doing what you do.”

“If you do not have any more questions, I will see you later.” Dr. Suarez said, then he left the room.

“Where’s my phone?” David asked.

Brock walked over to the table next to the bed and pulled it out of the manila folder it was put in. The screen was shattered in a million pieces with a couple pieces having fallen out and into the manila folder. He held it up for David to see. “It kinda got broken. Must have flown around when you got hit by the train.”

“Kinda got broken?” David said, dismayed. “Hey, you go on and get me a replacement, Brock. I need to get back to checkin’ work stuff.”

“Davy, just relax. Mama’s handling all that. Evan’s already working on your behalf from the manor with LAFC, and If there’s a board vote, I have your proxy. We got this, okay?”

“Mama can’t do in a week what I do in a day,” David said. “I ain’t got time to be sittin’ around no hospital room with my thumb up my ass.”

“Mr. Devereaux,” the nurse said as she walked into the room with a small cart. David noticed her immediately. She walked with confidence, head held high. She was able to arouse desire in the coldest heart with her warm smile. Plus, she had a body that wouldn’t quit for anyone.. “Time for your sponge bath.” David’s eyes perked up as she moved closer to him, the cart containing a bin where she could fill it up in the sink with warm water to bathe David.

“Well,” David said, “Now that’s quite a turn of events.” David smiled at the nurse. She winked back. “Hey, darlin’, I’m David. What’s your name?”

“Candy,” she said with a flirtatious wink.

“Oh my god,” Brock said, trying not to laugh, “Off to go find Adam, Davy.”

“No rush on comin’ back, Brock,” David said as the nurse began to unbutton his hospital gown in preparation. “Oh, now’d be a good time to get my replacement phone.”

Brock waved bye by throwing his hand up in the air as he walked out without looking back, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

D E V C O · G A S · S T A T I O N
Campbell Rd & Westview Dr, Houston, Texas | Sunday 7 May 2023 | 16:58 CDT (GMT -5)

Part of the Devereaux corporate empire included their branded gas stations and convenience stores spread throughout Grand California. From Alaska to the Hudson Bay, from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean and everywhere in between, 20,000 locations were there to serve the people of Grand California their morning coffee, their munchie runs, and mainly their gasoline needs. The stores were open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week with few exceptions. DevCo offered the people a seamless experience operated on the idea that oil companies were there to serve the people, not simply make money off of them. DevCo spent millions of research dollars over the years to perfect the best convenience store coffee, to organize their stores in such a way that they all followed a set pattern so that whether you were in Vancouver or New Orleans, you never had to find what you were looking for because it would always be in the same place in every store, and to work in partnership with the communities in which they operate. It was not an option for Lucas when he agreed to let Lawson send a car for him that he should be picked up at a DevCo. Conveniently enough, there was a corporate store located just 6 blocks from his apartment complex. Even in the warmth of a Houston afternoon, he opted to walk to the gas station, pick up a bottle of water, and wait. He was told that the car would be there at 5pm in the afternoon precisely. As his smartwatch shifted from 4:59 to 5:00, he looked up and his jaw dropped. A stretch limousine pulled up, shining brightly in the sunshine. The driver stepped out of the driver’s seat and looked right at Lucas. He opened the back door for him and gestured with his hand for Lucas to enter. Lucas looked around and quickly ran for the car, almost jumping into it like a swimming pool.

As the limo pulled off, he busied himself playing with the various buttons. One which made the divider drop between the driver and himself, which caused the driver to ask him what his request was. Lucas apologized and raised it again. Dual climate control, heated seats, a cooler with bottles of water and soda in there. And even a few bottles of beer. In the ceiling were entertainment units which had a collection of movies, television shows, streaming media, and music for the car’s occupants to enjoy. The windows were so tinted that he knew no one could see him from the outside. Then, he hit a button on the roof and the sunroof opened. He stuck his head out of it, the driver offering a gentle order to return his head inside the moving vehicle for safety sake. Lucas once more apologized and closed the sunroof. After settling down for a few moments, he took his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of himself in the limousine. That was going to go on all the social media profiles as his newest profile picture. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get the chance to ride in a limo again.

In spite of the huge gulf in lifestyles between Lucas Gallagher and David Devereaux, their addresses weren’t all that far apart. A simple 15 to 20 minute drive crossed this gulf easily on wheels. As the car turned into the Devereaux’s neighborhood, Lucas began to stare out of the windows in awe. Tree lined streets so shrouded by the canopies of leaves that he couldn’t figure out if the streets ever saw sunshine. Houses set far back off of the road, all of which had some form of gate between them and the rest of society. The houses were massive, the lots bigger than most anyone could find in Houston. This was the most affluent postal code in the city, but the neighborhood’s biggest secrets were yet to be revealed. Deep within the Bayou Woods neighborhood were the biggest houses, down by the bayou itself. It was in this part of the neighborhood that the car finally turned from the roadway and onto a driveway. The dark gray metal gate opened, sliding inside a slot off to the side of the driveway. A guard shack sat at the gate protecting the residents from unwanted guests. The limo started up the driveway and the house came into review. He rolled down the window, the only remark he could make was a whistle sound expressing his complete and total amazement with the sheer size and opulence. It was the biggest house he’d ever seen and could only imagine what life on the inside was like. The car stopped outside under the large portico that protected the passengers from the elements. The driver remained in the car as Steven Lawson opened the door to greet Lucas personally.

“Mr Gallagher, I presume,” Lawson said with a smile.

“Mr. Lawson?” Lucas asked as he stepped out. He lifted his head and looked around wondering how many people lived in this house. “This house is... massive.”

Lawson smiled, “Just follow me and you won’t get lost on the inside. You did bring the video, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Lucas said, “Got it on my flash drive.”

“Well, we’re going to go meet Master Brock in the library, Lucas.”

Lawson walked Lucas through the double doors and into the rotunda, taking a left, they walked down the same corridor that Elizabeth, Harry, and Pat also walked down towards their bedrooms. The large main office of the house was situated closest to the rotunda. Lawson knocked on the door. Brock called for him to enter. Lawson opened the door and the office opened. It was bigger than Lucas’ apartment in his mind. Lawson escorted him to a comfortable sofa on the far end of the library which was flanked by two chairs in a matching pattern, coffee table between them. He sat down, looking at Lawson who stood there waiting for something. Brock stood up from the desk, a rum and coke in his hand. He wore his newest suit, a dark gray three piece with a pink tie and matching pocket square set against a white handmade silk shirt. It clung to him like a jealous lover accentuating the svelte nature of Brock’s person. The ties in the Devereaux household were always tied in perfect Windsor knots. Brock stood at a golden bar cart with all sorts of bottles and glasses on it. He took his drink and held it up when Lucas sat down.

“Care for something to drink? Water, coffee, something stronger?” Brock said, ever the gracious host.

“Oh, crap, I left my water in the limo. I could really use a bottle of water, if you don’t mind?” Lucas said.

“Perrier? Deer Park?” Lawson asked.

“Uh... Perrier, I guess,” Lucas said, trying to seem more sophisticated than he really was.

Brock took a leisurely stroll from his seat behind the desk to one of the chairs flanking the sofa. He stood beside it momentarily, looking over Lucas as the glow of the chandelier on a low light setting made Brock appear to have a sort of aurora from Lucas’ perspective. Brock sat down in the chair, crossing his leg at the kneecap.. He took a sip and sat his drink on the coffee table.

“Lucas,” Brock said, “so, I trust your ride here was enjoyable?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Lucas said, uncertain as to what was happening.

Brock leaned forward slightly, placing his hands in his lap. “Someone tried to kill my brother a couple days ago. I’m sure you understand we want to know who did it so they can be held accountable. I’m hoping your video is going to give us something. If it has something we can use to find out who did it, then I will be happy to give you the reward. I guess all I need is to see the video.”

Lucas took a deep breath, his mouth getting drier by the minute. He could feel his heart beating like it was going to pop out of his chest. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a flash drive. “It’s here.”

Brock smiled, “Great, if you’d come to the desk.”

Brock stood up and walked over towards the desk and sat in the plush leather chair which sat behind it. Lucas stood up and walked over to the desk. As he did, Brock held out his hand for the flash drive. With a bit of hesitation, Lucas handed it to Brock. He slid it into the USB port and opened the file folder for the drive. There was only the video on this file. With a few clicks it began to play. The video started with Lucas facing the cellphone at himself talking about being at the Sawyer Street crossing waiting for M401, a daily freight service between Houston and New Orleans. He talked about some of the history of that stretch of freight line and what the train normally transported (mixed freight intermodal). Brock looked up at Lucas and smiled.

“You know we own BNSF,” Brock said as the video kept playing. Lucas seemed rather unimpressed by this random fact. Perhaps it was the nerves.

The video continued as the sound of a distant train horn could be heard. The video was completely unedited, part of this week’s railfanning video to be posted tomorrow on Lucas’ YouTube channel. Brock began to take the mouse and slide the video slider until the gates started to go down. Lucas’ phone was pointed right at the crossing. There was David’s car, the yellow pickup, and another car visible on the video due to Lucas’ 45-degree angle to the crossing. He’d stood back several feet--basic railfanning safety as well as ensuring he wasn’t on railroad property. As the train blew its typical warning of three long blows and one short blow, the sound of the engines plowing towards the crossing could be heard. Then the yellow truck began to push David’s car. The smoke from the tires filled the video, practically obscuring what happened next. Brock just happened to notice David’s car lurching forward as the train’s lead engine entered the video. Then the car disappeared behind the engine, the sound of David’s car crashing a few times as the wheels of the train began to squeal as the emergency brakes were deployed. The fact that there was no more tire squealing from the pickup, the white smoke began to clear as the yellow truck made a quick u-turn without regard for anyone or anything near it. As it did, the front license plate came into clear view. Brock froze the video at that point. He looked up at Lucas and smiled.

“Now, that’s quite an interesting video, Lucas,” Brock said. He reached down under the desk and pulled up a duffle bag. He placed it gently on the table, then opened it. He spread the opening and held it up to Lucas. “A deal is a deal. Five million dollars, Lucas. Thank you. Your video is going to help us a lot.”

Lucas’ eyes nearly leapt out of their sockets. He didn’t know it would be a cash transaction. How would he put all that into his bank account? Would the bank get curious about it? All his fears started to melt when he reached into it and began looking through the bundles of hundred dollar bills. That’s when his nervous demeanor broke and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Is this real?”

Brock laughed, “Of course it is, Lucas. It’s a token of our thanks for this information. We’ll make sure this gets to the police so that this attempted murderer can be caught and brought to justice.”

“Yes, Mr. Devereaux,” Lucas said..”

“We always help those who help us, Lucas. This is my card. Take it. That’s my personal number, so don’t go giving it out to people, okay? If you ever need me, you call me, okay?”

“Thank you, Mr. Devereaux!” Lucas said, nearly smiling from ear to ear.

“Brock. Call me Brock.”

“Thank you, Brock.”

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Sunday 7 May 2023 | 19:42 CDT (GMT -5)

David sat in his hospital bed. He worked his phone frantically, catching up on emails and responding to things requiring his attention. He was a workaholic, the kind of guy who couldn’t enjoy a day off because he’d always be worried about what he missed. However, this wasn’t any normal time off from work, so he could make due with playing catch up. As he worked his phone like a pro, he received a text message from Lawson. He opened his messages and pulled up the message. It was a picture of the yellow pickup with a license plate. David smiled. He quickly opened his contacts and started scrolling through until he reached the name he wanted.

“Rob, how the hell are ya?” David said, “Yeah, I’m alright, I guess. Banged up to hell, but I ain’t dead yet.” David paused to hear Rob speak. “I need ya to do me a favor, I’d be really appreciative if ya could, you hear? I need you to run a plate for me.” He paused again. “Yeah, I’d be really happy to donate to that worthy cause.” David’s smile grew quite wide, “Now, it’s a Texas plate. JXR-7188. Yeah, that’s right. How long you think that’ll take?” David paused. “Oh, yeah, I can hold on a moment.” David proceeded to take a sip from his glass of water while waiting for Rob to tell him what he wanted to know. “Wait, it belongs to who? You’re shittin’ me. Well, now that’s really interesting.” David stopped as Rob said something to him. “Naw, Rob. Ain’t no one gonna know the Houston Chief of Police just did this. Unless you’re tellin’ people, which I don’t think’d be good for either of us, ya hear? Now, you have a good night.”

David put the phone down on his lap. Taking his good arm, he balled his into a fist as his face shifted from the smiling, happy David he had been to pure anger. His eyes grew cold and dark. He narrowed his eyebrows. He shook his head, tisking as he did. “I’m gonna make you wish you was never born, LJ.”

S A G E B R U S H · C O R N E R
Houston, Texas | Sunday 7 May 2023 | 18:47 CDT (GMT -5)

The limousine pulled up to Lucas’ apartment building, the young man fearful someone might want to steal his large duffle bag full of cash. He went to tip the driver, but the driver refused. They were not allowed to accept tips. LJ stepped out, looking around like a criminal who was trying to escape from a crime he’d just committed. He walked up the exterior stairs to his floor, entered through the metal door, and walked to his apartment. He took out his keys and went to open the door, but it was already open. He pushed the door open slightly. His apartment had been ransacked. Nothing was left upright. His TV smashed to the floor, his kitchen drawers and cupboard opened, the dishes smashed all over the floor. He ran into the computer room where the worst of it was. His computer tower had been smashed, the SSD destroyed and left on the floor. He picked his phone out of his jeans pocket and went to call the police, but as he started to dial, he noticed something he didn’t see when he walked in. His collectables on the shelving behind his computer desk were all beheaded, each head sat on the shelf below. Attached to that shelf was a note on which was written ‘Give me the video or you’re next.’ Lucas deleted 9-1-1 from his phone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Brock’s card. He dialed the number, not sure why he felt this was the better option, but he called Brock anyway. His hands were shaking so violently he nearly dropped the phone twice.

“Brock?” Lucas said, “That guy from the truck, I think he broke in. My apartment is trashed, man. He beheaded my collectables and said I was next if I didn’t give him the video. Goddamn, dude, what am I supposed to do? I’m scared.”

“Lucas, are you okay? I’ll send the car back. Take what you need from your place, get in the limo, and get back here, okay?”

“I should call the cops,” Lucas said

“He knows where you live, Lucas. How he found you, I don’t know. He knows you’ll call the police, but he already tried to kill my brother, and now he’s threatening you. Come to manor, we’ll keep you safe, okay? You can call the police from here.” Brock said, trying to keep his voice calm for Lucas’ sake.

“Fuck, dude, I didn’t sign up for this,” Lucas said.

“Calm down, get some clothes, get out of the apartment. The car will be back in 5 minutes.” Brock said, then disconnected.

Lucas ran into his bedroom, grabbed some clothes from the floor, where they had been tossed by the burglar, and shoved them in with the money. Then he ran outside, down the steps and waited in the shadows for the limousine to return.

by **Grand California** » Sat May 13, 2023 2:31 am

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Monday 8 May 2023 | 09:14 CDT (GMT -5)

David emerged from the bathroom of his hospital room, a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a tee shirt his wardrobe for the ride home. His left wrist, broken in the crash, had been placed in a splint instead of a cast, something which gave David some consolation. The last thing he needed was a bunch of people trying to sign his cast. Of course, the wrist would be elevated by the use of a sling around David’s neck, something he’d have to get used to for the next however many weeks until the doctor removed it. At least he could take the splint off for hygiene purposes. His whole body was sore, something that was normal for a person who’d been tossed around his car almost like a ragdoll in an accident. David refused prescription painkillers, opting instead for just acetaminophen and ibuprofen. For the next few weeks, he would be out of commission under doctor’s orders to refrain from much physical activity, especially using his left arm to lift anything more than around 2 kg. Beyond the fact he wouldn’t be able to use his left arm for much, he wanted to see when he got home if he could at least type with his left hand. With the amount of emails he sent in a day, two hands would be far better than one. He still had the bandage around his head, the gauze pad over his large cut of his left eye still rather unpleasant to look at. Looking at himself in the mirror earlier, he felt like he looked like a reject from an action movie more than he did himself. The good news was he was alive.

The last few days had caused him to think about a lot of things, primarily what he wanted out of life. Perhaps most people had these thoughts after a near-death experience, but for David it was something a bit more intense than he’d ever expected. Death was one of the very few things in life no amount of money, power, or influence could get him out of and realizing his own mortality was something he’d never dealt with before. He remembered when he first started to question the existence of God (or an afterlife) at an earlier age when his maternal grandparents were taking him to church and he realized certain parts of the Bible just didn’t make any sense. Still, he didn’t want to completely dismiss the idea. The last thing he’d want to do is die and find out it was all true and he was told to stand in the wrong line outside the pearly gates. No matter what, David was always David. The idea of vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord meant nothing if the Lord didn’t have a vessel through which to exact said vengeance. And David was more than willing to be the vessel when it came to vengeance against LJ. However, more than anything else in his life at the moment, he just wanted to go home. To get back to some form of normalcy.

Brock’s appearance in the hospital room meant one thing and one thing only: time to go home. He thanked the hospital staff on his way out, careful to give a little extra special smile to Candy for her excellent sponge bath services. Seeing that David might be trying to spend a little too much time, he deliberately nudged David forward towards the door. Adam was waiting downstairs in his pickup truck to pick up David. Brock didn’t want to keep Adam waiting, especially since after David was dropped off, they were going to head down to Club Alexander to finally get the final walk through finished. The two brothers got into the elevator and reached the ground floor relatively quickly. David walked through the lobby towards the front doors of the hospital, the throng of reporters awaiting any statement from him. At first, he didn’t want to say anything. They were always after a story. However, as he stood at the door to the hospital, the thought did cross his mind that he could always find a way to deliver a message to a certain someone who may be watching. When the doors opened, he stopped outside under the overhang where the gathered press held their microphones in his direction. He smiled politely as Brock stood just behind him and to the left checking his watch.

The reporters began firing their questions in his direction. He didn’t really want to answer any of them, though. He wanted to say what he wanted to say and that was it. He held up his right hand and motioned to them to calm down a bit as he stood there and smiled, “Now, I just wanna say this’ a great ol’ hospital with some real special staff. Ain’t been treated better. And I wanna thank’em for everything they done. I’m alright, for the most part. Nothin’ some rest and relaxation can’t fix.” David then looked at the bank of television cameras in front of him. With a sparkle in his eye and a sly grin on his face, he spoke directly to cameras. “We don’t know who done this, but I will tell ya that when we figure it all out, well, they’re gonna face justice. I personally guarantee that. Ain’t nowhere they can hide, ain’t nowhere they can go they can’t be found.” He then began to once more scan the crowd of reporters. “Now, I need to be gettin’ on back home. Thank you.”

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Monday 8 May 2023 | 10:45 CDT (GMT -5)

The manor had stood in anticipation for David’s return, the household staff had gathered outside lining the driveway in the warm Texas sunshine. At the head of the line stood the family, Andrea and Evan followed by Nathan, Nanette in the middle, Elizabeth, then Harry and Pat. Adam’s pickup pulled into the driveway and Adam hopped out first followed by Brock from the passenger seat. Then David jumped down, wincing in pain somewhat from the meeting with the driveway. The staff applauded and the family began to swarm him the moment he walked towards them. He was happy. Genuinely happy. He was escorted into the house, through the rotunda into the living room where glasses of champagne were on hand to celebrate, each family member taking one including David.

“Damn glad to see you back,” Nathan said.

“Not gonna lie, I’m happy to be back,” David said as he went to take a drink.

“Oh, Davy, we have to have a toast,” Brock said with a smile. “Everyone, glasses!” Everyone raised their glasses, “To Davy, God doesn’t want you and the Devil’s afraid you might take over.”

“Ha!” David said, “Now, I’ll drink to that, Brock.”

David took a long drink from the glass as his family followed suit. He looked around the house, happy to be home and ready to start slowly getting back into the swing of things. As he finished off his glass, he saw something through the window overlooking the back of the house. A young man. Unfamiliar to David. He turned towards the back window and started to investigate. Brock followed behind him to see what David was staring at.

“Who’s that” David asked as he looked at Brock.

“Oh, that’s Lucas. Remember, we told you about him on the way home,” Brock said.

“Yeah, guess ya did,” David replied. “Now, you ain’t told me why he’s still here.”

“Davy, his place was ransacked. He’s got nowhere else to go. So I said he could stay here, for now.” Brock replied as he sipped his glass of champagne.

“Right,” David said. “Well, guess I should thank him, I reckon.”

“Might be a good idea,” Brock said. “Then we should probably get the video to the cops.”

“Oh, no cops, Brock. This is gonna need a personal touch, you hear?” David said.

“What are you saying?” Brock said.

David shook his head rebuffing Brock’s question, “You never wanna know, Brock. Why start now?”

“Davy, I’m worried,” Brock said. “This isn’t like other things. He could have killed you.”

“I know, Brock,” David replied, trying to keep the conversation as private as possible while the family busied themselves drinking champagne in their neutral corners “That’s what makes it kinda personal.”

Brock put his now-empty glass on a nearby table and took David by his right arm and pulled him towards the dining room where they could talk a bit more privately. David initially didn’t want to go. He didn’t need Brock turning into a frustrated preacher preaching the gospel to a choir that was tired of hearing it, but Brock’s insistence grew, making David feel slightly uncomfortable. He followed Brock into the dining room. He stopped by the door between the dining room and kitchen, a place where both Brock and David could monitor the staff to see if they were getting too close.

“Davy, I don’t want another call like that,” Brock said, the words still echoing in his head from the day of the accident. The fear that David might be severely injured or even dead.

“And you won’t,” David said, “I’m gonna handle it, you hear?” David’s eyes looked straight into Brock’s, the lack of expression on David’s face signifying that he’d said his last word.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Monday 8 May 2023 | 17:52 CDT (GMT -5)

The bags stood at the front door, Evan already wearing his LAFC jersey for his arrival back home. Lawson brought the rest of Alexandra’s luggage over, her phone still stuck in her hand, her eyes never looking up from it. Nathan opted to remain in Houston. His particular conversation with Nanette a while back left him in a position of power and he intended to use it. Elizabeth was also leaving. Not for Tahiti, though. She was heading for Battlehorn Ranch. It had been so long since she’d seen it, she wanted to get back to it and soak it all back in. Harry and Pat were staying for now, but mainly because they just wanted to see their Devereaux grandchildren. Well, Devereaux-Margrave grandchildren. There were other reasons for them to stay, particularly to discuss some business matters with David at some point, but for now just hanging out with their Houston-based grandchildren was the reason they were willing to admit to Nanette.

“Evan,” David said, hand held out to bid farewell to his newest executive VP. “You do a good job, you hear?”

“Loud and clear,” Evan said with a smile. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for this, David. And I hope that owning the team means we get to see you out west more often..”

“I’m gonna be out there a lot from now on, I reckon. Gotta lot of shit to handle here right now, though. Big things, Evan.”

“Right,” Evan said.

“Alex,” David said, “feel like we hardly talked since ya got here.”

“Yeah, like, I feel like we just never really connected much. With the whole attempted murder thing and the fact you’re never home. So, when you come out west, just hit me up, like, yeah.” Alexandra said, reminding David why he didn’t speak with her that much.

“Like, yeah,” David imitated. Alexandra didn’t really notice, but Evan nearly exploded from laughter.

“Right, so we’re off,” Evan said as the driver opened the door. Nathan gave both his kids a hug.

“Now, kids, remember, don’t blindfold the pilots. Last thing we need is a 70 million dollar private jet crashing into the ground,” Nathan said.

“Yes, father,” both kids replied.

“Safe travels. Seriously.” Nathan said.

“And it's a hundred million. We kinda had it customized a bit,” David said with a wink. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He quickly pulled it out and looked. “Gotta take this. Call me when ya get there, you hear?”

David walked down the hallway into the library and shut the door behind him as he kept the phone to his ear. He sat down in the plush leather chair and put his feet up on the desk. He took the decanter and poured himself a glass of bourbon and took a sip. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Monsieur Devereaux,” the female voice said with a French accent, “we have encountered a slight, uh, how you say... situation. Monsieur Jacques has expired.”

“Expired? I don’t quite get it,” David said.

“Uh, he has... mort.... Dead. He is dead, monsieur. In the bed of a prostitute, yes.” the voice said.

David took his feet off of the desk quickly, causing him a sudden rush of pain in his back. He let out a rather loud groan as he leaned forward. “What the hell you mean he died in a hooker’s bed? What the ever-lovin’ fuck’s going on out there?” Suddenly, David’s phone began to blow up with messages from various senior executives from Marseille, France. “God fuckin’ damnit. You get someone to clean this up, you hear? If the press gets ahold of this we’re gonna have a cluster fuck. Of all the shit I need right now. Call me when you get it done, you hear?”

“Oui,” the voice said, then disconnected. He scanned through his messages reading them as quickly as he could. He put the phone down on the desk and started massaging the bridge of his nose with his good hand. If his left arm hadn’t been in the sling, he probably would’ve slammed it on the desk.

The door to the office opened, Nanette standing there with her phone in her hand, “What is going on in France?”

“I’m gonna handle it, Mama. Just like I handle everything,” David said.

“David, I don’t want the press.....” Nanette said, David cutting her off.

“I got it, you hear? It’s gonna be handled. Don’t worry your pretty little head,” David replied. “I knew I shoulda gotten rid of that fucker when we caught him drunk on the job. But, naw, you wanted to keep him cause granddaddy trusted him. Now, he’s dead in a hooker’s bed. Maybe you should go on and let me be for a bit, Mama.”

M A R S E I L L E · F R A N C E
Flat of Thomas Aston | Tuesday 9 May 2023 | 01:17 CEST (GMT +2)

Through a deal with the government of the Empire of Britannia, Devereaux Enterprises housed the head of its European operations in an office tower in Marseille, France. The tower itself wasn’t nearly as impressive as Devereaux Tower in Houston, but it fit in with the ambiance of the city of Marseille. The building itself housed all facets of the European divisions, most of which were hotel and resort properties. DLD Sports Enterprises also rented some space in the tower, David having managed to find his way into owning Paris FC, a 2nd-tier team in France. Marseille was chosen primarily because those in power found favorable terms with Devereaux Enterprises in the early 2000’s. Essentially, someone made some extra cash--a lot of extra cash--and Devereaux Enterprises found a favorable agreement with the city. The tower offered spaces to employ 2,200 people across its 174 meters of height. The floors unused were leased out to various local companies. Until a certain incident, the entire European operation was headed by Jacques Devigny. However, a new person would have to take over in the interim owing to the unfortunate incident now rattling the foundations of the European division.

He stood just a sliver over 6’2” (189 cm). He had styled red hair and ice blue eyes. Thomas Ashton had joined Devereaux Enterprises back when he graduated college. He started in the public relations department as a part of the budding social media team. A few years later, he was in charge of the department answering directly to the head of the European division. A year earlier, he was nominated and accepted the position of deputy head of the division, something he assumed meant he would have a long time to learn from Jacques about managing all the businesses in Europe that were owned directly by Devereaux Enterprises. These were entirely hotel and resort properties in France, England, and other locations. He ran a tight ship, everything had a place and everything was in its place. Beyond being efficient and neat in his job, he was every bit as much as efficient and neat in his appearance. A well-built young man, the sort of made a suit look better just by being in it.

The phone rang, his body jolting at the sound. He sat up quickly. Too quickly, in fact. It felt like the mostly dark room swirled a bit as he did, the blanket slid off of his bare torso as he turned towards the bedside table to grab his ringing cellphone. What the hell could be so important that someone needed to call him at 1 in the morning? He noticed the name on the caller ID. The 31 year old Mancunian answered, putting the phone on speaker.

“Mr. Devereaux,” he said, his voice deeper than normal from just waking up.

“Thomas, we gotta real mess on our hands. Gonna need you to step up for me, you hear? I’m appointin’ you interim head of our European division. Do a good job, I’ll make it permanent.” David said.

“Mr. Devereaux, I, uh, accept?” Thomas replied. “Though, also confused as to why?”

“Check your messages, and handle that whole mess,” David said. “Clean it up, don’t let the press run with it, you hear? Oh, and congratulations, Thomas.”

The phone went silent as David disconnected. Thomas now found himself trying to figure out what was happening.

L J ' s · H O U S E
Houston, Texas | Monday 8 May 2023 | 23:34 CDT (GMT -5)

LJ stood in the living room, a bottle of beer in his hand. He watched the interview. He heard David’s threat loud and clear. What LJ knew was he wasn’t going anywhere. He had no reason to flee or to hide out. David had destroyed his family and for what? Some lousy contract? Now his mother was alone, the rest of the family had cut ties, and LJ was just the son of some child rapist. And what of this half sister? He had more things to worry about than David fucking Devereaux. Of course, what LJ really wanted was to strike again. He needed to do it in such a way that David didn’t have an escape door. A way to get David to fall into a trap with the kind of bait that he couldn’t resist. For now, LJ just had to lay low. Let the dust settle from this event. He had a college friend who was going to transport the truck to a junkyard and crush it before anyone ever realized it was the truck involved. He’d already bought a new vehicle, a luxury sedan. He also had a large bag of cash, the pile of money paid to his father over the years that had never been used. LJ had plans to use it. At least, for now, David could pay for the lifestyle LJ believed he was entitled to.

The newscast continued in the background, a particular blurb capturing LJ's attention. “And in related news, Club Alexander’s newest owner, Brock Devereaux, will be reopening Houston’s most prominent gay nightspot on May 27th. We’re expecting a veritable who’s who of Houston to be there and we’ll be live on scene. Now, here’s Drew with the weather.....”

The flashback to the fight in high school played in his mind. The look on David’s face when he saw Brock’s bloody face. The thorough beating he took from David’s angry fists. The expulsion. Being forced to be homeschooled until he finished high school. And that’s when it hit him. The way to get to David was through Brock. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do or how he was going to do it just yet, but Brock would be the perfect bait. Perhaps the news wasn’t always bad.

by **Grand California** » Tue May 16, 2023 1:50 pm

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Thursday 11 May 2023 | 11:05 CDT (GMT -5)

If historians wanted to ask the Devereauxs where their history began, they would point to 1754 in Louisiana in a small town near the Mississippi River. What history really says is they began much earlier than that in France, though records from before the 1700s were virtually non-existent. In fact, even when records existed, there was little to show the family as ever becoming anything more than a want-to-be upstart who found themselves on the wrong side of a fight against the Imperial Crown Company and were banished from France. There were two groups of Devereauxs looking for fame and fortune. As the 1700s progressed, some remained west of the Mississippi and some moved east of the Mississippi into the Republic of Columbia. Those who went east found themselves broken into two more groups: Devereaux’s who centered around Philadelphia and those who changed their surname to Deveroe and centered themselves around the Columbian capital. Too many generations and outside blood having mingled into their respected trees rendered the relations moot.

In 1820, the Western Devereauxs moved from Louisiana to a new settlement at the confluence of the Buffalo Bayou and White Oak Bayou. This settlement became the City of Houston in the 1850s. There were no misgivings. The Devereauxs did not found Houston or the settlement. Rutherford Devereaux, a 19 year old with a new wife and baby, came to the settlement in the hopes of starting a new life. What happened to Rutherford and his family would become the stuff of legend. As tensions rose between settlers in what would become California and their overlords in the Empire of Mexico, the settlers began to organize. When hostilities broke out, Rutherford received a field commission as a colonel in the Revolutionary Army. Through his military prowess, he would rise through the ranks to become a General, leading his Army of the Red River into Mexico as the final act of the war raged on and marched on Mexico City, dictating the terms of Mexico’s surrender almost in the Imperial palace itself. Rutherford would go on to become a member of the Congress of the West and would be a signatory to the Californian Constitution. He would also become the nation’s first-ever president. The family would go on to produce 7 governors of Texas, 4 mayors of Houston, and one more president, Rutherford’s grandson, Uriah. Uriah was David and Brock’s 3rd great grandfather.

When the family found oil on their land in a small dusty town where they had built a farm, the family found themselves not just politically powerful, but financially powerful. As the 20th century pushed forward, the desire to achieve high office was replaced with the desire to achieve high net worth. It would be the main driving force behind their modern descendants. An oil company became a conglomerate and became an international corporation with offices in South America, Asia, and Europe beyond just their North American holdings. Many of the family’s earliest fortunes came from their political connections. Friends glad-handing agreements and turning their gaze the opposite way when things were less-than-legal. This was the history, though, and it was a history that the Devereauxs were proud of. It was the history that Adam read about in the Devereaux’s family history, lent to him by Brock.

“Well,” Adam said, “Your family is certainly full of excitement. I mean, I guess I never really put two and two together about the former Devereaux presidents.”

“Oh, yeah,” Brock said, “someone had to do it, I guess. Davy’s more into the history than I am. I mean, it’s not like I don’t care, but, history is kinda boring.”

Adam chuckled, “It’s nice that your family knows where it came from, though. And it’s a history to be proud of.”

Brock shuffled slightly, “Yeah, I guess. Not all the family history is good, though. One of our Eastern pretenders probably is the reason Columbia is an empire. And on the Margrave side, well, they assassinated a Columbian president in the 1700s. That’s why they’re based in Asia.”

“Margraves,” Adam said, his eyes glazing over. “More history?”

“No, baby. We’re Devereauxs. I mean, we’re both, but we’re Devereaux’s first.” Brock said.

Adam shook his head, “I would assume you were both equally.”

“Ha,” Brock laughed, “Tell that to the Margraves in Asia. Anyway, baby, you don’t need to get involved in any of that. That’s Mama’s fight. Not mine.”

“Have you ever thought about getting your family together and, you know, ending all the infighting?” Adam asked. “I mean, as someone who lost his family a few years ago, I think it’s really important.”

Brock sighed, then sat down on the bed. He knew that Adam was right. Family was important. The lack of a strong, structured family had turned David and Brock into psychologically damaged young men. Though, in Brock’s mind, David took the brunt of that. Brock thought he was pretty well adjusted overall. He didn’t want to have this talk with Adam, though. Adam, though soon to be Brock’s husband, was an outsider who should probably just keep well enough alone. Of course, he couldn’t say that to Adam. At least not in those words. All he wanted to do was move forward with Adam while they did their own thing.

“Baby, I get it, I do, but you don’t really, like, know how families like mine work. They’re, um, messy and fucked up.” Brock replied. “And the money only fucks everything up more.”

“You have a choice,” Adam said. “You could leave the money behind. I’m doing pretty well for myself, building my own empire.”

“Oh, baby, you’re so cute,” Brock said dismissively. There were never any thoughts of leaving the family or the money behind. He just wanted them to somehow be normal. “This is me and this is my family and, like, I can’t just walk away from it. That wouldn’t be right.”

“Brock,” Adam said as he stood up from Brock’s bed. “Look,” he said as he rubbed his forehead, “I have to tell you something and I don’t know how you’re going to take it.”

Brock braced himself, his veins feeling as if they had just been flooded with ice water. He started to tremble fearing the worst. “You’re... not breaking up with me, are you?”

“What? No, never,” Adam said, the smile spilling across his face to comfort Brock. “But, um, you remember when you bought me all those clothes, right?”

“Of course I do. You look so hot in them, baby,” Brock said, his nerves calming down. “And I have such amazing fashion sense.”

“Oh, without a doubt, my love,” Adam said with a wink. “But, uh, I mean, there’s you and there’s me and you’re you and I’m me.”

“Um.... you okay?” Brock said, his face scrunched in confusion.

“No, I’m not,” Adam said, sitting back down on the bed. “Look, I just have to say this and I hope I say it right. Brock, I love you. I cannot wait to call you my husband. I just need to know this is going to be an equal partnership.”

“Of course it will be,” Brock said. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well, you’ve got this long family history with presidents and governors and assassins and oil barons and billionaires. And there’s me. A poor kid from Tyler who works his ass off daily to earn what I have.” Adam said. “And it scares me because I can’t compete with all of this.”

Brock nodded slightly, not in agreement but in understanding Adam’s point. “Baby, there’s nothing about my family history and money that makes me think that I have, like, any more control or influence than you. When we get married, you’ll be my partner. Not just in the bedroom, but in life. Baby, what’s mine will be yours and what’s yours will be mine and we’ll share it forever. Equally.”

“I’m not even used to being a millionaire,” Adam said.

Brock hummed slightly, then cocked his head slightly, his eyes sparkling in the light. “You’re uncomfortable that you won’t fit in,” Brock said with a smirk. “And I get that. I mean, you’re not my first boyfriend. And there’s not exactly thousands of billionaires running around, okay. So, I’ve been through it before. I don’t want you to think or feel that somehow you have to change or be different because of my family and the money. I don’t want you to be a billionaire. They’re really horrible people, mostly. I want the guy I saw in my office that day who invited me out for a drink. The guy who looked at me that way at the Tumbleweed,” Brock walked up, putting himself right up against Adam, “The guy who rode the bull, the guy I spent that night with in bed. Feeling your breath against my neck. Your arms wrapped around me. The way you made love to me. That’s the man I want. Not someone trying to be a billionaire. Be you, Adam. Always. Because you’re perfect as you are. Rich, poor, old, young... but please keep the abs as long as you can.” Brock laughed heartily.

“I promise,” Adam said with a smile as he began to rub his hands up and down Brock’s back. “And, thank you.”

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Thursday 11 May 2023 | 16:57 CDT (GMT -5)

Brock and Adam relaxed in chaise lounges, sitting by the pool in the strong afternoon sun. Lucas continued practicing his diving techniques taking full advantage of his temporary living arrangement. In Brock’s mind, he was a pretty cheery kid who brought a refreshing change of attitude to the manor. Though, Brock referring to him as a kid when Lucas was only 2 years younger caused Adam to smile every time he heard Brock call him that. Harry and Pat stood by the large, luxury brick grill, Harry smiling from ear to ear as he worked on cooking a nice dinner for everyone. His desire to display his gilling prowess sparked once he heard Nanette was going to be working very late. Pat stood next to him, chatting with him, a glass of champagne always in her hand. As two house staff members stood nearby Harry and Pat to collect the grilled delights once finished, David burst through the double doors to the patio. In his hand he had a small package wrapped in a plain brown wrapper. He marched in double time as he made a direct, unwavering path towards Brock and Adam. Brock stood up and waited as David approached, his hair waving slightly in the breeze his speed was creating.

“It’s here,” David said, his voice half full of joy, half full of nerves. “I can’t open it, little brother.”

“What’s here, Davy?” Brock asked as David handed him the small package.

“Los Angeles Magazine’s done their annual 100 most influential folks. Last three years I been in 2nd place. I’m gonna be real upset if I ain’t at the top.” David said.

Every year, Los Angeles Magazine did their yearly assessment of the movers and shakers in the Federal Republic. The most read magazine in the whole country, a publication of record with proven fact-based journalism, and hard-hitting investigations, Los Angeles Magazine had no competition, period. Appearing on the list represented something far more powerful than a ranking. It was the ultimate prize for those who wanted power and influence. The list read like a who’s who of California. There weren’t any divisions in this list. It ranked everyone regardless of their profession. Everyone on the list received an advanced copy of the magazine specifically scheduled to arrive the night before. Those on the list were notified in advance and sworn to secrecy. Leaking the list before the official publication date of the magazine meant a massive lawsuit and forever being banned from appearing on the list again. It was the kind of list that made news headlines on all the major networks and news channels. And since his first appearance on the list, David never reached higher than 2. Often, second place was quite the accomplishment, but when someone like David is used to being the center of attention, coming in second meant losing--and David hated losing.

“David,” Adam said, “just making that list is really impressive, though.”

“Right,” David said, then cleared his throat.

“Okay, Davy, I’ll open it for you,” Brock said as he took his hand and slid his finger into the crease where the brown wrapper overlapped. He slid his finger down the seam, the sound of paper tearing making it feel almost like Christmas morning. He peeled the wrapper off almost like he was trying to save it to reuse it, much to the dismay of David who just wanted to know. Brock looked at the cover and then opened it. He thumbed through each page until he reached the list, which started at 100. Brock opted to peruse the list just to see who else was on it besides David. Brock hemmed and hawed at some names until he could hear David’s dress shoe tapping on the concrete in that rapid motion he made when he was extremely irritated. Brock smiled, then quickly thumbed through the pages until he reached the top. He took a deep breath, then shrugged at David.

“Goddamn,” David said, “second place again?”

Brock turned the magazine towards David, his index finger pointed at David’s picture and the number beside it. “No, Davy, you’re number one this year.”

“Well, I’ll be goddamned!” David said with a sound of joy that no one had heard from David, well, ever. “Are you shittin’ me, Brock?”

“Congratulations, Davy!” Brock said with a smile. He started to say something else, but David reached around and gave Brock such a big hug that he lifted him off of the ground several inches. “Oh, Davy, put me down!”

“I can’t fuckin’ believe it, Brock. About time them fuckers realized who’s fuckin’ who ‘round here.” David said, his eyes electrified by happiness.

“He’s really happy,” Adam said as he watched David stare at the page.

“Oh, and really humble,” Brock said with a smile. “As you can tell, baby.”

“David, congratulations, man,” Adam said. “So, what does this mean now beyond going from number two to number one?”

“It means Davy won’t stop talking about it until next year’s list comes out,” Brock said.

“It’s like being second at the Olympics, Adam,” David said. “Yeah, you done real good, but you ain’t done good enough. That’s why your anthem ain’t bein’ played. No one remembers second place finishers, Adam. Second place is the winningest loser. People only remember number one. This list ain’t objective. It’s real fuckin’ subjective. You gotta be doin’ shit harder, faster, and better than every other fucker in California. And, I even beat out ol’ Ellison.”

“And so David Devereaux peaks at the ripe old age of 27,” Brock said, the sarcastic tone dripping from every single word. “It’s all downhill from here.” Then Brock’s demeanor softened and he smiled brightly as his brother, “Seriously, though, Davy, I’m really proud of you.”

“I appreciate that, Brock,” David said as he turned towards the two staff members standing by Harry and Pat, “Hey, Thomas, get the champagne ready, you hear? The really good stuff.”

“David, congrats!” Harry shouted. “I got a nice strip with your name on it.”

“Thanks, Granddaddy,” David said as he started to run over to show Harry and Pat.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Thursday 11 May 2023 | 20:36 CDT (GMT -5)

The evening filled with the sound of people chattering, the champagne flowing. While impromptu family celebrations weren’t unheard of, more often than not David, Brock, and Nanette just offered congratulations. With Harry and Pat, Nathan, Adam, the addition of Lucas, and David’s insistence that everyone celebrate, the family decided that there wasn’t any time like the present to celebrate. The pool had been lit up in the Texas evening, glowing like a shimmering sapphire. As the music played through the manor’s sound system, household staff frittered to and fro bringing trays with drinks. David opted for his normal bourbon, though he did have a glass of champagne at the outset. Adam chased Brock around the pool while Lucas sat in a chaise lounge taking his cue from David and drinking the family’s special reserve. On the long end of the pool sat several chaise lounges for those wishing to enjoy the pool but not wanting to get into the water. David perched on the end of the chaise, not wanting to lean back in his suit. He offered another bourbon to Lucas, who made certain to drain his first glass before taking the second one.

“Lucas,” David said, “I wanna let ya know I appreciate you helpin’ me out with this little situation.”

“Hey, it’s no problem,” Lucas said, taking the first sip from his new glass.

“I know it’s kinda tough hidin’ out here without your friends and family,” David said. “You gimme some time and I’ll get all this cleared up and you can get back to your life.”

Lucas smiled, then put the glass down on the ground next to his lounge. He took a deep breath and sighed, “Yeah, I don’t have any friends. My dad walked out when I was young and Mom went back to Denver without me. I just kind of work and stream. Guess the streaming days are over. That guy smashed my setup.”

“I’m sorry,” David said, looking down at his glass tapping the platinum ring on his index finger against the side of the glass causing a somewhat melodic beat. “Family’s are kinda fucked up, I reckon. Ain’t none perfect.”

“Uh, can I ask you a favor?” Lucas said, sitting up in the chaise lounge, the lights from the pool illuminating his bare torso somewhat burned from his day in the sun. “You’re pretty good with money, right?”

David chuckled loudly, “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“You see all of this, “Lucas said, twirling his index finger around. “Someday I want to have something like this. Maybe you could tell me what to do with the money you gave me for giving you the video?”

David sat up tall, took his hand and gave Lucas a rather firm smack in the back. The gesture was meant to be a friendly tap on the back, but 6 bourbons gave David less reserve in his action. “Now that’s a smart idea. I’ll tell ya what. I’ll come up with a plan for it tomorrow and I’ll talk with ya about it, you hear? I mean, you wanna keep some for yourself. And, you just follow my plan, I’ll get your money workin’ for ya so you ain’t gotta work for it. That’s how rich people stay rich.”

Lucas smiled somewhat, though the sting of the friendly pat still reverberated around his spine, “I mean, you work all the time.”

“Cause I got things to do,” David said with a wink, “I ain’t happy unless I’m workin’. I ain’t built to enjoy it. Even ol’ Brock wants to work. Sittin’ ‘round the house gets real borin’ after a few years.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but if I had just ten percent of this, I’d find a way to enjoy it. I know what it’s like to work all day for shitty wages. I don’t want to do nothing, but I’d have no problems taking vacations. That’s for sure,” Lucas said.

David thought for a second, “Hmmm, I ain’t had a vacation since spring break of my senior year in college. Course, I love what I do, so kinda feel like I’m always on vacation. Anyway, I’ll take it under consideration, you hear?”

C L U B · A L E X A N D E R
Montrose, Houston, Texas | Friday 12 May 2023 | 09:27 CDT (GMT -5)

Adam and Brock entered Club Alexander. The dust was gone, the tarps cleaned up, and not a workman in sight as they surveyed the establishment. Everything was picture perfect as far as Brock was concerned. Well, except for the sound system, which was in its finishing touches. Still, the club looked better than Brock would have imagined. The couple walked around, Brock commenting on the choice of modern furniture for a high-end aesthetic. Something he picked out himself, but it was Adam’s people who put it all together. The bar, the focal point of the club, seemed to be something out of a magazine designed for the bar owner who wanted everything. The shelves were light giving bartenders clear views of the liquor on the shelves, plus their glow gave the most crowded part of the club some needed light, though just enough. The dance floor, the candle notches in the walls, the lighting above the floor was just perfect. Brock took Adam by the hand and walked him over to the bar. He and Adam perched on the black and gray barstools. Brock reached into his interior suit pocket and pulled out a small stack of papers folded lengthwise. He put them down on the bar, then took a pen out of the same pocket and put it on top of the papers. He slid the papers over to Adam. Brock smiled as Adam tossed him a curious gaze.

“What’s this?” Adam asked, taking the papers and unfolding them. He scanned the documents. It was the incorporation paperwork for Brock’s new business venture. Almost immediately he noticed the name of the new corporation. The Campbell Devereaux Group. Adam looked up, but Brock pointed back towards the paperwork for him to keep reading. While the papers were obviously in legalese, the general gist was that Brock added Adam to the paperwork as a full and equal partner in the venture. All Adam had to do was sign next to where Brock had signed already.

“Brock,” Adam said, slightly embarrassed by this generous gift, “I can’t take half of your club. This is your dream.”

“Baby, this place is as much yours now as it is mine. I just told you what I wanted, you did the rest. And I can’t think of anyone I’d want to share my dream with more than the dream I see in front of me. Just think, you and I, building clubs all around California and the world. My ideas, your architecture and designs. A true lifelong partnership.”

“Brock,” Adam said, “But, I don’t need you to take me so literally. Just knowing you want to be an equal partner with me in marriage is all I wanted.”

“I know,” Brock said with a smile, “I just want you to be more than a marriage partner. A true partner in business. Look at this place. It’s amazing. I wouldn’t want anyone else to design my clubs than you anyway. Let’s make it official, then. Besides, this business partnership comes with benefits you won’t get anywhere else.”

“Oh?” Adam said, a sly smile spilling onto his face. “Like what?”

“Health, vision, dental, free drinks, full VIP access,” Brock said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Is that all?”

“Oh, now, that’s not all,” Brock said as he stood up and walked behind Adam. Brock took his hands and started to run them down the front of Adam, feeling his muscles through his dress shirt as he pressed farther down, reaching Adam’s belt, then more personal locations thereafter. Then he kissed Adam on the side of the neck. “Benefits like that, Mr. Campbell.”

“So, where do I sign?” Adam said, fully engrossed in the business presentation.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Friday 12 May 2023 | 10:11 CDT (GMT -5)

A set of fully matching designer luggage stood at the doorway to the manor. Nanette smiled as she looked around. The house was quiet. Brock and Adam were down at the club, David was busy with a doctor’s visit. Even Lawson had taken part of the afternoon off to handle some personal business that cropped up. She took her hand and ran it along the wall, feeling the smoothness of the marble of the rotunda, cool to the touch from the central air conditioning. It was her favorite room of the house. As she turned, Nathan walked into the rotunda, his eyes curious as to what Nanette was up to.

“Going somewhere, sister in law?” Nathan said.

“David will let you know when he gets home,” Nanette replied.

Nathan processed the statement, the wheel churning in his mind. “Does David know right now what you’re doing or is this something he’ll learn about later on?”

“I am just bringing to fruition a few things early, that’s all. Besides, after David’s accident, I’ve done a lot of soul searching,” Nanette said.

“Impressive, because I didn’t realize you had a soul.” Nathan said without a sign of sarcasm to be found.

“Nathan, for what it’s worth, I know you think I killed Louis, but it wasn’t me. But, I helped with the cover-up. And I do love my kids, but I’m not much of a mother, as you so kindly pointed out.” Nanette replied.

“If you didn’t kill Louie, then who did?” Nathan said, his arms folded across his chest.

“You can find her at Battlehorn,” Nanette said as the door opened and the limo driver began to take the luggage to the car. “I’m sorry, Nathan, that I didn’t know before what she was up to. She never thought Louis was good enough for me, mostly because my father filled her head with that bullshit. I did love Louis. And finding out my mother killed Louis destroyed me. And my relationships with everyone. I do love David and Brock. But Louis’ death killed me. And I made too many mistakes. Now, I’m correcting them. I’m heading off to Tahiti. I’m going to find the evidence. I will bring it to you.”

“Nanette, if this is true, what do you propose we do about it?” Nathan asked uncertain whether to believe Nanette.

“Let me get the evidence first. Then we can take the next steps. I’ve a plane to catch. Commercial jets don’t wait for me or anyone else.” Nanette said as the limo driver took the last of the cases out to the car, then she stepped out and closed the door behind her.

“Crazy bitch,” Nathan said, not wanting to believe anything of what Nanette had just said.

by **Grand California** » Sat May 20, 2023 3:15 am

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Friday 12 May 2023 | 15:45 CDT (GMT -5)

He sat on the bed, the papers piled beside him. He held the most important piece of paper up in his right hand, his left arm still in a brace. His head shook in disbelief to the note left behind by his mother. She had simply left. To go deal with something that needed to be handled. No explanation as to what it was she needed to do, how she was going to do it, or even where she was heading. All she had managed to do before up and leaving (as far as David was concerned) was to appoint him her proxy and interim CEO until her return. It wasn’t the fact that this sudden, not discussed action left David busier than ever--he could handle that--but the fact that this was not something that looked good on a company. Stability was the main factor that people trusted Devereaux Enterprises and this was the least stable thing she could have done outside of just quitting and leaving the company forever. However, perhaps the fact David was the one being left in charge would calm any sort of rumblings in the business community.

“That fuckin’ bitch,” David said, loud enough that it caused Brock to stop as he walked past David’s room.

“Problems, Davy?” Brock asked from the doorway.

“She’s gone. Up and left. Gone somewhere, God knows where. Left me in charge ‘til she gets back,” David said as he held the paper up, pointing it towards Brock’s general direction. Brock stepped into David’s bedroom and took the paper and read it.

“Oh,” Brock said with a shrug, “really?”

“Yeah, now I gotta figure out what she’s up to,” David said. “You up to bein’ my personal assistant again ‘til she gets back?”

Brock smiled, knowing that was the normal flow when David was left in charge. Brock would turn into his lacky basically doing all the little things David needed done while David was busy with ‘the big things.’ “No can do, Davy,” Brock said, “Not with the club getting ready to open, I have a lot of things moving around right now.”

David took a deep sigh, “If I’d have gotten more warnin’, I coulda found a temp. Ain’t gonna find anyone by tomorrow.”

Lucas popped his head into David’s room, a smile on his face. “Hey, David, what time tomorrow did you wanna meet to talk?”

“Uh, well, kinda just had a bunch of shit dropped on my lap, Lucas, but, I made a promise. 9am, you hear?” David said as he continued to think about who he could get on short notice to help him.

Brock raised an eyebrow, then spoke, “Lucas, do you know what a personal assistant does?” he said looking at David while he spoke. David shot Brock a strange look since, as far as David knew, there wasn’t anything about Lucas that screamed responsible personal assistant. In fact, the more he got to know Lucas, he seemed to David like the kind of person who would languish in relatively obscure jobs making somewhat livable wages for the rest of his life. That was unless Lucas could somehow make money swimming in a pool. At least Lucas was smart enough to come to David for money advice. That counted for something in David’s mind. Maybe just not a personal assistant role.

“Uh, you mean like the kind who gets you coffee and makes copies and stuff?” Lucas asked.

“Not quite,” David said, “Cause I already got people that do that sorta thing. Naw, you’d be answerin’ my phone, controllin’ my schedule, kind of just makin’ sure I’m kept on time and on track. Not that I need lots of help with that. I keep it all up in here,” David said pointing to his brain. “But, I tend to hire one when Mama steps away since I gotta do so much extra on top of my stuff.”

“I’ll give anything a try. How hard can it be?” Lucas said innocently.

David laughed briefly, “Alright,” he said as he stood and put his good hand on his hip, “I’ll give ya a try. You start Monday, okay?”

“Sure thing!” Lucas said, excited about his new prospective career. He bounded away with a massive smile plastered on his face.

“About two hours and that boy’s gonna wish he’d said no,” David said as he shook his head.

“Davy, you said it yourself, you keep your schedule in your head already, so he’ll just do what I normally do and answer your phone and take a message and order your lunch.” Brock said as he shrugged.

“If he gets through day one. I’ll give’im the job ‘til Mama gets back from wherever the hell she’s gone,” David said.

D E V E R E A U X · T O W E R
600 Travis Street, Houston, Texas | Monday 15 May 2023 | 09:20 CDT (GMT -5)

David’s office filled with sunlight across its bountiful floor space and accouterments. The high back leather chair, comfortable and molded slightly to David’s frame, leaned back as well as David did. The dark wood paneling, as always reminiscent of a time past, but for David it felt perfect. His diplomas hang next to the large, framed, Sepia-toned Texas map. Off to the side were two couches that faced each other divided by a dark wood table where deals could be struck in a slightly less formal setting than in front of the old L-shaped desk. There were a few plants here and there, something brought in to lend a little color to the otherwise monotone room. David sat at his desk, cup of coffee in his hand. A freshly-brewed pot of a dark roast he was so very fond of. His secretary, Jaqueline Newton, known to her friends and colleagues as Jackie, had a knack for making a special brew of coffee where she added just a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg to the mix. He wasn’t quite sure how she did it, but she made that taste like the best damn cup of coffee a person ever had. He’d found her in a pile of resumes sent to his office by an agency he used to staff positions. Her resume included a stint as a barista when she was in college, something he didn’t quite know would serve him quite so well in his business life. Jackie sat in the office in a seat beside David while Lucas sat in front of them. Jackie busied herself taking notes of the meeting.

“And what we’re gonna do,” David said, “is invest that money of yours in some companies that are gonna pay you big bucks, Lucas. Now this is gonna take time. You ain’t gonna be rich like that overnight. And you gotta know it’s gonna come with just a bit of risk, as always. But, I do believe we have here the best little damn portfolio a strappin’ young man like yourself could ever have. You just wanna let it sit there and earn, you hear? You can scoop off the dividends and put them away for yourself or reinvest those into growing that there portfolio I cooked up for ya. Now, all ya gotta do is sign that contract right there to make it all legal. And if in future you wanna make any changes by selling some shares of X and buying some of Y, you just call ol’ Timmy down at the brokerage. He’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Remember, we went over this on Saturday.”

Lucas grinned from ear to ear. Without hesitation he took the pen offered to him by David and signed his name, then handed David the duffle bag with 3.5 of his 5 million dollars in it. The other 1.5 million Lucas chose to keep for himself. He wanted to bring his mother back to Houston, if she’d come. He wanted to get her a really nice house with flowers in the front yard and a swimming pool. He wanted to have his family back. And in time, if David’s plan went as he promised, his mother would never want for anything in her life. Lucas was going to make sure of that. Of course, he had to wait, as David explained, for that little portfolio to do whatever is portfolios did. Lucas wasn’t much of an investor. With the remaining cash on hand, after taking care of his mother, he wanted to open a custom computer shop. A place where he would build systems for those who wanted them. Nothing but the best components would be good enough for those who came into his store. This dream was now much closer than ever. Then, he’d have time to stream after work. Or, he could even host e-gaming competitions in the store, if it was big enough, that was. So many ideas and thoughts raced through his head. So many, in fact, he didn’t quite hear David calling for him.

“Hey,” David said, his brow furrowed a little bit, “You alright there, Lucas?”

“Oh, yes Mr. Devereaux,” Lucas said.

“It’s David,” he replied. “Even in this office, it’s David. You hear? The only time you should ever call me Mr. Devereaux is out there,” he said pointing at the door to his office. “In here, even Jackie here calls me David.” Then David dismissed Jackie with a quick nod at her. She smiled and stepped out of the room, taking the contract Lucas had just signed with her so it could get to the brokerage. Once she closed the door behind her, he spoke again. “And when all this business with LJ is over, well, if you ain’t where you wanna be, I might be able to help ya out. You done me good with your video, you hear? I never forget someone who does me good.”

“Yes, David,” Lucas said.

“Now, before you go on and start your career here, we’re gonna have to do something ‘bout that suit. No offense, Lucas. I know you ain’t had a lot of time to get one tailored to ya, but them off the rack suits look rather unseemly. Now, you take this here card,” David pulled a business card from his pocket square pocket and handed to Lucas. “You give that card to Enrico Scangarello down at the address listed and he’ll whip you up several suits so you can look your best here. Ain’t gonna cost you nothing. You just get up with him at your earliest, you hear?”

“Yes, David. But what about assisting you for right now?” Lucas said not wanting to miss any part of the day. He was eager to learn the job and see how a massive corporation actually worked.

“Jackie’s got it for now. You run along and get yourself looking sharp as a tack.” David looked at his watch, “Now, I got an appointment coming in about 20 minutes I need to get ready for. So run along. Take as long as you need.”

“Look,” Lucas said, “I appreciate all of this, but it’s just a video. It feels like a lot just for that video.”

David stood up. As he did, he buttoned the top button of his suit coat with his right hand, his left arm still hanging from a sling, the left forearm still in a brace helping his broken wrist. “Now, that ain’t just a video of an accident. It’s the only piece of evidence showing that the bastard tried to kill me, Lucas. And he came after ya. He found your place. Threatened you. And you came to us. Now, like I just said, I take care of those who help me. Ingratitude ain’t a character trait of mine. Though I reckon it can be a lot to go from, well, modest means to all of this.”

Lucas nodded, “Well, I could have gone to the cops. But, I figured this LJ guy might get me before they did anything. That’s why I went to your man, Lawson. You didn’t have to take me in, give me money, a job, and clothes. Though, it’s nice to have access to a pool for once.” Lucas chuckled slightly.

“Yeah, well, that’s what it means to be a friend of a Devereaux, Lucas,” David said with a smile. “Now, I do have an appointment soon. Anything else?”

“No, David. Thank you,” Lucas said. Instead of taking David’s hand, which was extended for him, Lucas walked around the desk and gave David a rather big hug. David was, for lack of a better term, caught off guard and rather unhappy with the hug situation primarily because his healing wrist got caught between Lucas and himself and the force of the hug caused him a fair bit of pain. He decided to pay no mind, after all he’d just made a poor kid rich--sort of. After the hug he just brushed off the front of his suit, double checked the braced left forearm to make sure the brace hadn’t been shifted, and made sure that his pocket square was back in proper order.

“Very well then,” David said with a smile, “Now, go on and see Enrico.”

A D A M ‘ s · H O U S E
Houston, Texas | Monday 15 May 2023 | 10:01 CDT (GMT -5)

Adam stood in his bedroom, his house filled with boxes. Some boxes were full, some were yet to be filled. Furniture was left untouched, to be sold along with the house. While he didn’t quite want to give up the house he built from scratch, he had long since realized that there wasn’t going to be anything there for Brock--apart from Adam himself. Plus, there were certain security concerns that Adam knew his house wasn’t designed for due to Brock’s affluence. The manor, at least for now, was where they would live. After the wedding, they could decide where to live after. There hadn’t been any real discussions about moving out, in fact Adam figured that thought had never crossed Brock’s mind, but Adam was hopeful that they might get a place of their own. He didn’t care if it was near the manor, but Adam did want a place that was theirs and theirs alone. No Nanette. No David. No army of staff constantly roaming the hallways and grounds doing the daily chores that most people who lived in normal homes did themselves. Brock, for his part, did make the trip to help Adam, though Brock wasn’t quite used to doing manual labor. He supervised a portion of the manor’s staff to do the work for him, something Adam found somewhat hilarious. At least it made the process that much faster. Affluence was nothing if it wasn’t efficient. As Adam pulled some of the last items from the closet, he saw it hanging there. Pushed to the far side, out of the light spilling into the closet and up against the wall. A uniform. FRC Army patch on the side, the name Campbell across the name patch.

Adam had served in the Californian Army from the day he turned 19 until 23. After the events surrounding his coming out, he wanted to find himself and he thought a stint in the army would do that for him. That it might make a man out of him. At least enough of a man that his family would think about talking to him again. Of course, that never happened. Adam found himself stationed in Kansas for his 4 years of service. Though, the one thing that did happen for Adam was getting on a construction detail for the army. It was through his time in the army he learned how to build and design. He never thought he’d go into the construction business, but after he left, he started working in the business. It was lucrative enough. Quickly, he opted to start his own business. It took a lot of hard work, sleepless nights, and discipline to do, but he’d made a good effort and was rewarded with a profitable, growing company. And, truth be told, he was extremely happy that it was going to still be around. As part of their business deal, the company would have total and exclusive rights to the design, construction, and maintenance of any and all clubs and venues that the Campbell Devereaux Group managed to acquire over the coming years. It wouldn’t be folded into the business, Brock didn’t want that. He wanted Adam’s baby to grow and flourish. It was a mechanism by which Adam would get rich in his own right. And, if somehow they managed to adopt children or go the surrogate route, then both companies could be handed down to another generation--in due time, of course. As he took the uniform out of the closet, he held it up against him. It was too small for him now. He’d filled out too much through working out and a hard day’s work for it to fit, but he still tucked it into a box with the rest of the stuff he was taking back to the manor. A memento of something that, if not accomplishing its original goal, had turned Adam into the man he was today.

“Baby,” Brock said as he appeared at the threshold of Adam’s room. “You okay? You seem lost in your own world.”

“Yeah, Brock, I’m fine. I’m just a little sad about selling the house. I mean, it’s not a multimillion dollar manor, but I had always kind of had this dream of finding Mr. Right, getting married, and us living happily ever after in this place.” He put his hand up against the wall and lightly rubbed the paint, his hand leaving a slightly dirty imprint.

“I mean, it’s a nice neighborhood,” Brock said. “Full of families and hard working, middle-class Californians trying to do their thing and all.”

“It is. A lot of good people here, too,” Adam said, taking a deep breath.

Brock smiled from the doorway, “There’s a lot of good people in my neighborhood, too. Like, the people who make sure the people in this neighborhood have jobs and can put food on the table for their families and keep the lights on, and have vacations at Disney and Independence Day barbecues, and stuff like that, Baby.”

“I know,” Adam said. “But do they get together for barbecues or do their children play in the street on those sultry nights?”

“Of course not, Baby, don’t be ridiculous. We’re not like the people in this neighborhood. Which is why we live in our neighborhood.” Brock said. “And your business is taking off. You’re going to be too rich for this neighborhood eventually anyway, Baby. Probably in a couple years, tops.”

Adam shrugged, “I guess.”

“Stop being afraid of being rich,” Brock said as he walked over to Adam. “It’s really not that bad.”

“I’m not afraid of being Rich, Brock,” Adam protested. “I just didn’t realize I was going from a brand new millionaire to crazy rich Texan so quickly. I don’t feel like I’ve earned that right. Earning it is important to me.”

Brock put his arm around Adam, “What, you don’t think you’re earning it now? You earned it because you loved me for me. That, and you do put in work just about every single night to earn it in other ways.”

Adam chuckled slightly, “It’s really fun, too.”

“So, don’t sell,” Brock said. “Keep the house. Like, if you need to ‘ground’ yourself, then just come back here, Baby. If you want me with you, I’ll come too. For a night, for a week, for a year. Whatever. I don’t care. I just want to make you as happy as you make me. I can always have hired guards to secure the perimeter.” Brock then took his hand and formed it into a gun and mouthed the words ‘bang bang’ and winked at Adam.

“I already have a contract to sell,” Adam said.

“Oh, those are easily broken,” Brock said. “Just give it to our lawyer. It’ll be over in 5 seconds. And we’ll just pay those people a little consolation fee for their time and effort.”

“Buy them off,” Adam said.

“No, actually, that’s in the contract. If you cancel the sale, they get a payout.” Brock said. “You should really read them before you sign them, okay Baby? Or let our lawyers do that for you. God knows they’re paid enough.”

Adam took Brock by the shoulders and planted a very passionate kiss on his lips. Brock nearly fell to the floor as he felt his entire body give into Adam’s entire presence. “How did I find you?” Adam asked after he unlocked his lips from Brock’s.

“You didn’t. I found you. You were literally the first construction company to come up in the Google search.” Brock said with a wink. “Someone paid extra.”

“Turned out to be the best money I ever spent” Adam asked with a smile. “And you used Google?”

“If I didn’t, Davy would’ve sent his people to do it. And, I love Davy as much as any brother could love a brother, but I would like to keep this business separate from his.” Brock said. “It’s better that way, okay?”

D E V E R E A U X · T O W E R
600 Travis Street, Houston, Texas | Monday 15 May 2023 | 10:06 CDT (GMT -5)

David stood at the desk, the professional smile on display as the door opened. Jackie stepped into the office, then off to the side. Behind her stepped in Jonathan Crawford, Mayor of the City of Houston. The 39 year old black man smiled as he approached David. He extended his hand from his navy blue suite and took David’s waiting hand. The two men shook a good, solid Texas-style handshake. David motioned for the mayor to sit down on the couch in the corner as David opened his desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of bourbon and two glasses. He walked over, sitting on the couch against the wall, put the bottle of bourbon and the two glasses down on the table. He poured roughly a shot in each glass. He handed one to the mayor and took one for himself. The mayor nodded and took a sip from the tincture, David following suit. After another sip, David put his glass down on the table and looked across the table right into the eyes of Mayor Crawford.

“Mr. Mayor,” David began, “Jonathan, so damn glad you could get on down here and stop by for a visit.”

“David, I always have time for one of my biggest campaign contributors,” the mayor said.

“One off? Goddamn, thought I was the biggest,” David said, with a hearty chuckle.

“To what do I owe this pleasure,” the mayor said wanting to get down to business.

“Now, Jonathan, there’s this piece of land I want. Corner of Louisiana and Pease. Now, I was gonna just go out and buy it, turns out the city owns it. So I was hopin’ you’d help out an old friend and get the city council to go ahead and sell that little ol piece of land to me. I want to build on it. The headquarters of DLD, Incorporated. Gonna bring in about 2,000 news jobs, something the people wanna hear ‘bout just before an election, you hear?” David said with a smile.

“Right,” the mayor said, the smile drying off of his face. “That’s not for sale, David. The City wants to put a new public plaza there. Something I promised the city in the last election, but the city council fought me on until a few weeks ago.”

“Now, I do remember you sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout that back in the day, yessir I do. Now, you do know that right on next to it is the Devereaux Oil Buildin’, right? And that land was sold to city by my granddaddy. And, I want it back. I’ll pay well above market value for it, too.” David said, the professional smile sliding into a serious smirk.

“David, I’m sorry, I just can’t. Campaign promises and all that, you know how it goes,” the mayor said, taking another sip seemingly unphased by David.

David didn’t miss that either. He watched as the mayor seemed to almost take joy at the fact he was blocking David from getting what he wanted. If it was a war the mayor wanted, then David was more than willing to go to war over that little piece of land. David reached into the interior pocket of his suit and pulled out his phone. “Oh, you remember that golf tournament last year, right? The one where you stopped by the massage tent and got yourself a bit more than a back rub?” The Mayor’s face drained of any expression. “I see, you do remember it now,” David chuckled slightly. “Well, just so happens that your caddy was there. A good ol’ boy named Jessie Palmer. Turns out, he wants to be a photographer. Who knew? Now, you get me my land, you hear? Cause it’d be a real goddamn shame if these photos ever got out, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the Mayor said, reluctantly.

“Oh, you’ll do it,” David said as he relaxed his pose slightly, “cause you ain’t got a choice.”

P A P E E T E · T A H I T I
Vacation House | Monday 15 May 2023 | 09:20 TDT (GMT -10)

Nanette sat in the living room of the vacation house. The house was only around 306 sq meters (3,300 sq ft), contained four bedrooms, 6 bathrooms, and views of the beach. It wasn’t built for a family to stay inside of it forever. It was built as a place for the family to relax and unwind after a day of enjoying the tropical paradise that was the island of Tahiti. Of course, this particular vacation home was a personal holding of Nanette Devereaux herself. In fact, the family didn’t even know it existed. At least, not that Nanette was aware anyway. As she sat there drinking a cup of coffee, a man of around 55 years of age appeared at the door. He opened it and walked straight in and stood.

“Happy birthday!” Nanette said as a big, bright, warm smile spread across her face.

“Baby, it’s so good to see you,” he said, giving Nanette a very passionate kiss thereafter.

“It’s been too long,” Nanette said.

“It has, but hey, you’re here and that’s what counts!” he said with his voice underpinned by sheer happiness. “How’s everything back in the big city?”

“Lonely without you,” Nanette said. “Maybe it’s time you came back to Houston, Louis."

by **Grand California** » Sun May 21, 2023 3:10 pm

P A P E E T E · T A H I T I
Vacation House | Wednesday 17 May 2023 | 11:46 TDT (GMT -10)

Living under various assumed identities and locations since the day he fled California. It was a bad land deal with The Delgado Family, an organized crime syndicate working in California. Louis didn’t know, originally, that the deal was with the cartel, let alone did he know they were on the Californian government’s list of terrorist organizations. What he did know was once the money changed hands, Louis Margrave got a tip that the government was investigating the deal due to alleged connections with the cartel and Louis panicked. He canceled the deal, never repaid the money, and then the cartel came after him. He finally returned the money after a few months, but at that point it became less about the money for the cartel. Nanette and her mother, Elizabeth, created a story where he died in a car wreck. In order to make it look real, they paid a homeless man to drive Louis’ car after giving him as many painkillers as he could handle. At the coroner’s office, they switched the dental records of the bum’s with Louis’ and officially killed him, though Louis Margrave still lived. He never had spent much time in one place or under one identity. He’d always managed to keep two steps ahead of the cartel, but they never stopped. A few years ago Nanette purchased a house under another identity through some friends of hers with the Californian government. She put Louis there so he could at least stop running around. Now, she wanted to bring him home. She wanted him to see his kids. He hadn't seen David since the faked death and he’d never held Brock at all. He left before Brock was born. David was only a bit older than 2 at the time.

Louis stood in his bedroom of the vacation house looking around at the place he’d called home for the last 4 years. One wall had become entirely devoted to pictures of David and Brock. From every stage of life and everything they had ever done. He knew their lives well. Once in a while, with Nanette’s help, he even managed to slip a gift to them, though it was often at Christmas and listed as being given by Santa. Until they grew too old to believe in Santa anymore. Then he had to let Nanette say they were from her. Now, he was packed and ready to return to Houston. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say to Brock and David when this secret was revealed, but he knew that it probably wouldn’t be well received. In fact, based on what he’d heard about David he was fearful that David might get upset or even violent. But, deep down, Louis kind of believed he deserved whatever David would have on offer for him.

“Are you ready for this,” Nanette said, a smile on her face.

“I’ve been ready since the day I left,” Louis said. “Let me just get my pictures packed and I’ll be downstairs in 15 minutes.”

D E V E R E A U X · T O W E R
600 Travis Street, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023 | 11:06 CDT (GMT -5)

David sat in the office, Jackie to his left taking notes as he spoke about his plans for the upcoming State of the Company address. Every year the Chief Operating Officer was tasked with writing a speech to deliver to the various divisions and subsidiaries and those family members lucky enough to have shares in this particularly private corporation. The occasion wasn’t exactly the most thrilling, as far as the speeches and the reports. It was the after party that was always legendary. The number of Devereaux Enterprises’ big wigs from around the world showing up to Houston, getting absolutely plastered, having their way with the local nightlife and social climbers. For once, David wouldn’t be just an attendee. He’d be delivering the keynote address. He would stand before the people who would, one day soon, be answering directly to him. And he loved the thought of all the attention, of everyone hanging on every single word. He loved what he did and it showed.

“Now, we’re gonna send that off to be reviewed. I wanna know the moment it gets back so I can get it printed up and all that,” David said as he grabbed the coffee cup off of the desk and took another sip.

“David,” Lucas said, “you’re 11:30 is coming up in about 15 minutes. Mr. Nathaniel Thornton of...”

“I know where that fella’s from, Lucas,” David said with a smile. “It’s a long lunch, Lucas. Those reservations at Jean-Pierre’s are all set, right?”

“I personally called 10 minutes ago and they’re good,” Lucas said.

“Well, then, y’all just lemme know when ol’ Nate Thornton gets here,” David said as he used his right hand to shoo both Jackie and Lucas away as he prepared to meet up with Nathaniel. “Oh, Lucas, just wanna tell ya how proud I am of the job you’re doin’.”

Lucas stopped for a moment, his light gray designer suit nearly shining in the sunlight through David’s office windows. “Thanks, David. I really like this job.”

“Yeah,” David said, “You’re impressin’ me, you hear? That don’t happen often. Now, you go on and get yourself a nice lunch. Be back by 2:30. Have the driver take you wherever you wanna go. It’s on me.”

As Lucas turned to go to lunch, Nathaniel Thornton entered the office. He had a big smile on his chiseled face, his dark hair styled in a messy yet professional fashion. He wore a dark blue suit with a white shirt, no tie, the top couple of buttons undone. He was tall, 190 cm (6’5”) and towered over Lucas as he walked past. He made a direct path to David, who stood there with his wide smile and his hand extended. While Nathaniel was a force of his own in the Los Angeles area, his company, Thornton Unlimited, had yet to really branch out of that neck of the woods. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity, though. He had a vision where he wanted to be and there wasn’t a stack of cash that would dissuade the young 27 year old from his dream. After crossing the office, Nathaniel shook the hand, then stepped back and took a look at David’s arm, no longer in a sling but still in a brace. Nathaniel also towered over David.

“Mr. Influential, we meet again,” Nathaniel said.

“Nathaniel Thornton, what the hell’s got you all the way out here to Houston?” David said with a smile.

“Business, of all the damn things,” Nathaniel said. “So, shall we go and grab a bite? I’m rather famished.”

C L U B · A L E X A N D E R
Montrose, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023 | 11:18 CDT (GMT -5)

Brock arrived at Club Alexander driving his SUV, a black 2022 Land Rover Defender. He stepped out of the SUV, pressed the button on his keyfob, and went to the back door of the club. He reached into his pocket to grab the key to the door. Suddenly, everything went black. Something was over his head. He felt something pushed into his ribs. He panicked. He went to scream, but he felt a hand over his mouth. Whatever was pushed into his side was pushed further, slightly deeper causing pain as it pressed against the rib bones. It felt like the barrel of a gun.

“Shhh,” LJ said. “Don’t fucking say a thing. You and me are going for a little ride. You scream, I will pull the trigger, you got me?”

The hand was removed from his mouth. Brock shook with fear, his words broken and full of terror as he replied, “Yeah. Just please don’t hurt me.”

“You won’t get hurt if you do what I say,” LJ said. Then a friend of his grabbed Brock by his arm and pulled him nearly pulling Brock over in the process. He was rushed into a waiting car, a new model luxury sedan. He felt a hand on his head as he was shoved into the back. Then, LJ got into the driver’s seat and sped off from the parking lot. As he turned and entered the street, he practically ran over a bicyclist unfortunate enough to try to cross the driveway at that moment, then he nearly was rear ended by a car he pulled out in front of.

“Hey, be careful,” his friend said, “We can’t get pulled over, you idiot.”

LJ just gave his friend a dirty look through the rear view mirror, then he continued to speed off into the Houston afternoon.

“You guys are gonna so get it when my brother finds out. He’ll kill you, I swear he will,” Brock said.

“Shut the fuck up,” LJ’s friend said.

“Oh, Brock, that’s just what I hope will happen. David coming to save your ass.” LJ said as he entered the on ramp to the highway as downtown Houston zipped past the windows. “This way I can kill him in front of your eyes, then you. Of course, if he doesn’t show up, you die anyway. So, I’d make peace with God if I were you.”

Lucas sat in the back of the Town Car, the car heading towards a restaurant the driver told him about where they had, as per the driver’s recommendation, the best damn steaks in all of Texas. As the black luxury sedan made its way across downtown Houston, he busied himself with sending some personal text messages from his personal cell phone. While he hadn’t made too many friends in Houston, there were some fellow streamers he kept up with. People who were questioning why he’d been quiet. He didn’t tell them too much other than his computer had gone down and he was saving money to get a new one. They offered to help him, but he told them it wouldn’t be too much longer. It was then the business cell phone rang.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the phone. He answered, “Office of David Devereaux, Lucas Gallagher speaking, how may I assist you?”

LJ, driving his sedan, paused. Lucas Gallagher. He knew that name. Then he realized what happened. Lucas, the guy who took the video. He’d reached out to David, somehow. “Lucas, you don’t know who this is, but I suspect you got my message.”

Lucas froze, his eyes widening, his blood turning to ice water, “Holy shit, you’re that guy!”

“You’re goddamn right I am. Now, you listen to me. You put David on the phone right now,” LJ said.

“Um, uh, he’s out of the office right now. I can take a message,” LJ said, feeling like he was about to piss himself in fear.

“Don’t you lie to me. I got his brother here. Say hi to Lucas, Brock.” LJ said with a slight laugh afterwards.

“Lucas, it’s me. I’m okay.” Brock said from the back seat, his voice somewhat muffled from the sack over it.

“You tell ol’ David he better call me on this number in 15 minutes or that’ll be the last thing anyone hears from Brock, you got me?” LJ said.

“I will make sure he does,” LJ said, his hand shaking so much he was afraid he was going to drop the phone.

“He better,” LJ said, then disconnected.

“Hey,” Lucas said to the driver, “Jean-Pierre’s. Get me there in 5 minutes.” The driver made a quick, sharp u-turn. So sharp it nearly threw Lucas on his side and into the rear passenger side window. The business phone fell onto the floor.. He reached down and grabbed it. “Jesus Christ, warn me next time!”

Then Lucas began to call David’s personal cell phone.

Meanwhile, at Jean-Pierre’s, David sat at a small table across from Nathaniel. David had a glass of bourbon, Nathaniel a glass of red wine, a merlot. As David began to take a sip, he could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He ignored it. Whatever it was could wait. Then he could feel it vibrating again. He reached into his pocket and looked at the still-vibrating phone. It was the business line. He shook his head in disbelief.

“Please excuse me, Nate,” David said, “Apparently, someone don’t know what do not disturb means.” David stood up and took the phone outside, answering it as he walked. When he stepped outside onto the back outdoor patio, he started talking.

“Lucas, now, I thought I told ya not to....” David began.

“That guy,” Lucas said, his voice trembling. “The one from the video. He just called and said he had Brock. That you needed to call him within 15 minutes or he was going to kill him. David, I’m in the car and on my way there now.”

David’s eyes glassed over, his heart began to race. The color in his face drained while he started shaking his head. He could feel his blood boiling like it had never boiled before. “Fuckin’ hell. I’ll kill that son of a bitch. I will fuckin’ tear him into a billion fucking pieces when I get my hands on that mother fucker. Text me the number. How long ‘til you get here?”

“About 4 minutes.” Lucas said.

“Right, send me the number, quickly,” David said, then disconnected. He looked around, the few people seated outside were looking at him, their faces filled with concern after his outburst. He turned back towards the door and walked into the restaurant. He quickly marched back to the table where Nathaniel was sitting. Nathaniel began to smile when he saw David return, but he saw the look. Nathaniel’s face turned to concern rather quickly in the process.

“David, what’s wrong?” Nathaniel asked.

David felt the phone vibrate as Lucas’ message was received. “I can’t talk about it here, but I gotta go. I have to fuckin’ go. The car is coming, I’m gonna drop you at the office, then I gotta handle this.” David reached into his pocket and tossed a small bill fold with about a thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills onto the table.

“Okay,” Nathaniel said as he stood up uncertain as to what was going on.

David proceeded to race out of the restaurant, Nathaniel desperately trying to keep pace. David walked outside and dialed the number, the phone rang twice before LJ answered.

“Where’s my fuckin’ brother,” David demanded over the phone. Nathaniel finally caught up to him as he started speaking.

“Oh, David, now I’m not going to tell you that. At least not right now anyway. You ruined my family, now I’m going to ruin yours. You need to bring me 20 million dollars by 9pm tonight. I’ll text you the address around 8. Confirm you got it, otherwise Brock here’s going to pay the price.” LJ said.

“How do I know you got him and you ain’t just being a fuckin’ moron,” David said. “Lemme talk to him.”

LJ looked back at Brock, “Say hi, Brock.”

“Davy! It’s a trap! Don’t....” Brock started, then he was punched in the mouth by LJ’s friend.

David could hear something, but the fact Brock stopped mid sentence struck fear into his heart in that moment. “Brock? BROCK!” David shouted.

“Now, you heard that, I trust,” LJ said. “I’ll fucking kill him if you don’t do what I say, you understand me? When you get the address, you tell me you got it. If you ain’t there by 9 tonight, well, you know what’ll happen.” LJ disconnected.

Nathaniel put his hand on David’s shoulder. David flinched when he felt it. “David, I’m sorry.”

“I’m gonna kill that fucker. He’s messed with the wrong mother fucker.” David said as the Town Car pulled up. Lucas jumped out, holding the door open for both David and Nathaniel to climb into the back, Lucas jumped into the passenger seat of the car.

“David, if there is anything that I can do to help,” Nathaniel said, turning towards his friend.

“I just take you up on that,,” David said as he sat there, peering out of the window like his eyes were lasers and he was trying to burn the city down with them.

D E V E R E A U X · M A N O R
Bayou Woods, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023 | 19:57 CDT (GMT -5)

In the living room at the manor, Harry held Pat, her tears soaking the shoulder of his polo shirt. Nathan sat in front of them, kneeling, trying to help Harry console Pat. Nathaniel sat opposite of this scene working his cell phone for contacts he had that might be able to assist. Lucas sat off to the side on a chair by the window just looking out feeling that somehow he’d caused all of this. David, on the other hand, was in his bedroom standing before his private safe. He pulled the money out of the safe, all of it, putting it into a duffle bag. He had ten million of it alone, Nathaniel put up the other ten million, something he was able to get through a call to his private banker. David also pulled out his guns from a nearby gun safe. Three shot guns, all of the shotgun shells, and three Glock 19s. Adam stood behind him gathering the guns and making sure they were ready to be put in the back of his pickup truck. There was not a doubt in David’s or Adam’s mind. They were going to try to rescue Brock. They were aware of the potential outcomes. There would not be a reconsideration. Adam would take David to the drop location. David would get out. Adam would stay in the pickup. He would have the guns ready to go in case things didn’t go as planned. David would not be carrying a weapon, opting to believe that would potentially cause Brock harm when, if LJ was a man of his word, David could just give him the money and get his brother back. Shortly after eight o’clock hit, David’s phone buzzed. The address had been delivered. David told LJ he had the address and would be there at nine. The location was on the outskirts of Houston, far enough away that it would take nearly an hour for Adam and David to get there.

David and Adam walked out of David’s room and into the living room. “We’re going,” David said without any other comment.

“David,” Harry said, “are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

David nodded, “Adam. Let’s go.”

Adam carried the shotguns in a large bag, the money in the duffle bag, and the pistols on his person. The two men would hop into the pickup truck and it would scream into the late evening twilight. The ride was silent. Neither man spoke to each other, Adam just ensuring the truck made it to the location on time. Traffic was relatively quiet, though he wasn’t certain they would arrive at the location in time. As nine o’clock began to get nervously close, Adam pulled into the designated spot, an abandoned warehouse. Adam came to a stop outside of a gate which was partially opened, probably by LJ and his friend. David took the bag of money, opened the door, and stepped out. Adam went to say something, but David just closed the door. He approached the gate. Then, everything went dark as he felt something strike his head.

Adam, witnessing this, pulled out at high speed not wanting to get caught.

by **Grand California** » Tue May 23, 2023 2:05 pm

21:34
Abandoned Warehouse, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023

The pickup moved slowly around the perimeter of the old warehouse, Adam driving with only the parking lights on trying to go undetected. If the information was correct, there should only be LJ and one other person, so there were good odds that he could at least get into the warehouse. What happened beyond that was a matter for God. As he drove through, he came upon the deliveries entrance of the warehouse complete with docking bays for loading and unloading trucks. He parked some distance away from the bays not wanting to tip off anyone inside the warehouse that he was around. He grabbed the bag of guns, jumped out of the pickup, and then reached in and took two pistols out of the bag. He put one in his waist in front and one in his waist behind. He dashed across the concrete parking lot, towards the bays and the deliveries service door. He stood to the side as the large window in the metal door gave those inside a chance to see what he was doing--if they were even paying attention. He reached for the handle and gave it a bit of a twist. It opened with a metallic click. He froze, then gently tilted his head towards the glass window to see if anyone was around or had noticed. Seeing the coast was clear, he opened the door, slid in, and began to slide his way slowly through the maze of shelving units and old, dusty pallets.

21:34
Abandoned Warehouse, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023

His eyes opened, slowly. His head throbbed in sheer pain as he did. The room was brightly light, no windows, a dusty desk and chair. He looked around and saw Brock tied to a chair, his mouth gagged. David looked at his own situation the best he could. He was on the ground. His legs were tied together, but LJ hadn’t tied his hands, perhaps thinking David couldn’t do much with one good arm and one bad arm. He held up the braced right arm, the brace was still intact. At least, perhaps, LJ had some class after all. As David began to move around, he could feel pain in his left wrist. Perhaps however they carried him into this room they somehow damaged it again. Didn’t matter at this point as far as David was concerned. He took his right arm and patted down his pockets in his jeans. First his right, then his left. His phone, wallet, keys, everything was missing.

“Davy, are you okay?,” Brock whispered.

“Been better, little brother,” David whispered back.

David rolled over towards Brock, then sat up. He used his good hand to begin to try to remove the duct tape that held Brock down in the chair. It wasn’t an easy action with two hands, but with one it might take longer than expected. After trying for some time to free one of Brock’s hands, David decided to look around the small room they were in for anything that could help. He used his good arm to help stand himself up by pushing down on Brock’s chair. Then he hopped over towards the desk. He flung himself into the chair, it made a loud creaking sound as he did. He then opened the drawers. There were two on the left side and one in the middle. Starting with the left drawers, he found nothing there except for a few dead insects and a candy bar wrapper that had probably been there for years. He pulled the center drawer out, there was a lot of dust, but in the back he could see something. He reached into the back and pulled it forward. A rusty, broken piece of a razor blade left to its own devices sat in the back along with a couple paper clips and a dead roach. He reached down with the broken blade and began to cut through the duct tape holding his legs together. One free, he peeled the tape off the best he could and then went over and cut Brock free from the chair. David’s right hand was bleeding somewhat from the razor blade. Nothing David wouldn’t handle, but Brock wasn’t the best at the sight of blood. David grabbed Brock’s pocket square and wrapped it around his bleeding hand.

“That’s handmade silk, Davy,” Brock whispered.

“Now’s not the time, you hear?” David whispered back. “Stay here, I’m gonna see if we can get outta here.”

David gently walked over to the door, then very slowly turned the doorknob. The opened the door as gently and slightly as he could to see if he could see anything or anyone. He noticed someone, probably LJ’s friend, sitting in a chair several feet in front of the door, the room they were in being down a small hallway. The person seemed to be playing on their phone. David opened the door a little more and looked around. He saw a few office doors and the end of the hallway where one could only go left or right and that part was guarded by the guy on the phone. He wasn’t sure what to do at that moment. He didn’t have a weapon, he knew Brock didn’t have a weapon, so that left him the options of either staying put and hoping this guy got up to do something else or confronting the guy. Did the guy have a gun? That would make the fight too lopsided against David and Brock. The thought for a moment, then started to put a plan together. He waved for Brock to come over. When Brock got there, he took Brock’s tie and pulled it off, much to the chagrin of Brock. He twirled the ends of the tie around both of his hands a little bit, then nodded for Brock to follow him. The two tiptoed into the hallway.

Whispering, David said, “Stay here.” Brock sighed in agreement. David crept over to the guy. His head was down playing some sort of game on his phone. David made a slightly noticeable noise, which caused the guy’s head to perk up. David quickly put the guy’s head between his arms, pulled back and tightened the tie around the guy’s neck. The guy struggled, the silk tie beginning to cut off the circulation. He put up quite a fight, David struggled to maintain his grip, his left wrist still broken throbbing in unimaginable pain the entire time. Finally, the guy started to lose the ability to fight. He grabbed at the tie, but was unable to break David’s grasp. He collapsed into his chair, blood starting to run from his neck where the tie started to rub and broke through the skin. David kept his grip tight until he was certain the guy was dead. Then he released his grip. He dropped the tie on the ground, then grabbed his left wrist with his right hand.

“Davy,” Brock said louder than a whisper, “are you okay?”

“No,” David said, his eyes rolling in his head as the pain overwhelmed him, “I think it got broke some more.” David looked over the now-dead man. He noticed a gun sitting on the desk next to the phone which still had the guy’s game playing on it, the game waiting for a next move which would never come. David took the gun, a .357 Magnum, and put it in the waistband of his jeans. He waved Brock to come, which Brock did, though Brock nearly passed out at the sight of the dead man in the chair. He wasn’t very good in these situations, but he knew that he had to just keep going.

22:14
Abandoned Warehouse, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023

Adam methodically moved through the warehouse, almost like a police SWAT team member. He had a pistol pointing out in front of him, cocked and ready to fire at a second’s notice. Before him the warehouse sat like a maze, rows and rows of shelving units like it had been a storage area for the facility. Each row was a potential point at which LJ or whomever was in the warehouse with him could be prowling, ready to shoot on sight the first person that he didn’t recognize. The bag of guns weighed heavier than he expected, perhaps partly due to the weight of the situation. He continued on, searching, row by row, to see if he could find Brock or David. As he started to make his way towards the back of the storage area, he heard an unmistakable click.

“Don’t fucking move,” LJ said, shotgun pointed at the back of Adam’s head. “Welcome to the party, stranger. Might want to drop the guns, by the way. Thanks for the additional ammo.”

“Where’s Brock and David?” Adam demanded as he slid the gun bag off. LJ then began to pat him down and found another pistol in Adam’s waistband. He removed it and tossed it in the gun bag.

“Don’t think you’re in much of a position to demand answers, my friend, but, you’ll join them soon enough. Now, start walking,” LJ said as he took the barrel of the shotgun and pushed Adam’s head forward indicating which way he should be moving. With the gun still pointed at Adam’s head, LJ picked up the bag of guns and marched Adam towards the hallway containing the room where David and Brock were being held. As they approached, LJ noticed his friend was slumped. He thought he was asleep, so he walked over to wake him up leaving Adam unguarded for the moment. LJ began to try to wake his friend, but his friend slumped over to one side and fell out of the chair, the tie used to strangle him on the ground in a pile.

Adam, sensing an opportunity, took a flying leap and grabbed LJ causing LJ to fire the shotgun. The bullet took a chunk out of the wall, pieces of sheetrock and paint flying In all directions. LJ’s gun slid into the cross hallway while the bag of guns fell to the floor. Adam had LJ pinned under him. He shifted slightly to put LJ’s legs under his, but LJ put up a struggle causing Adam to lose leverage. LJ rolled on top of Adam, grabbed him by his hair and started to pound Adam’s head into the floor. Each crack of his skull against the concrete floor caused Adam to see stars, almost quite literally. Adam took his hand and grabbed the back of LJ’s shirt and pulled it back slightly giving Adam enough time to yank LJ back a bit and kick him off of him. Adam jumped up like a ninja and assumed a fighting stance with one leg in front of the other with his fists ready to beat the ever-loving shit out of LJ. Of course, LJ decided he didn’t want to fight with fists and started towards the bag of guns. Adam approached quickly and kicked the bag of guns a few feet away from LJ, then he leveled LJ with a roundhouse kick to the face causing LJ to slam into the floor, smacking his head against the concrete. He bounced slightly, then stopped moving having been knocked out by the maneuver. Adam grabbed LJ’s gun, and the bag of guns, and ran down the hallway trying doors until he found the one at the end of the hallway where Brock and David had been held. He opened it, seeing pieces of duct tape stuck to the chair and on the ground, the desk drawers opened. It must have been David who took out LJ’s friend. Adam reached into his pocket as he walked back to where LJ was lying. He pulled out his cell phone and called the police telling them what was happening and giving them the address to the warehouse.

22:26
Abandoned Warehouse, Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023

“Davy,” Brock whispered, “how do we get out of here?”

“I’m workin’ on that, Brock,” David said, scanning the storage area with the long, empty rows of shelves. He pulled the gun out of his waistband, cocked it and started to move through the rows of shelving, ducking and raising his head up trying to find some sort of exit to the outside world. As he started to figure out which way they should be able to go, they heard the shot from the fight with LJ coming from back where they started.

“What was that?” Brock asked.

David froze realizing that Adam might have gotten in. What if that shot was Adam taking out LJ? Or worse, what if LJ had just shot Adam? “Adam,” David said.

“Adam? He’s here? Oh my god, Davy!!” Brock said, starting to panic.

“Calm down, I’m gonna go back and see if he’s okay,” David said, still looking through the shelving. He noticed a door with an unlight exit sign over it. “Hey, Brock, you see that door?” David pointed it out showing Brock exactly where it was through the shelving, “Get outside. Somewhere out there Adam’s pickup is there. Get in it and find a spot to hide.”

“What about you and Adam,” Brock asked, fearing the answer.

“I’ll find out, you hear? Now get!” David said. Brock began to run for the exit. David watched Brock until he saw him run out of the building.

David turned back towards the hallway where they came from. He moved quickly, hunched down slightly to help himself hide in case LJ was lurking or there were others they may not know were in the building. In a few minutes he arrived back at the hallway, LJ knocked out on the ground. David carefully moved down the hallway to inspect, as he did, he saw someone turn the corner. David pointed the gun.

“Don’t shoot, David,” Adam said.

“Adam, goddamn, you do that?” David asked, pointing at LJ.

Adam just nodded, “I was in the army.”

“Just full of secrets, aren’t ya?” David commented. “Let’s get outta here.”

Adam stopped and grabbed the bag of guns, slung it over his shoulder, and started to follow David. Adam kept a ready-to-shoot shotgun in his hand. The two men raced through the shelving units, each one going by quickly as they made their way towards the exit to go find Brock. As the door approached, they heard something behind them. David stopped and looked. He saw a very angry LJ, pistol in hand, running through the shelving units.

“Move,” David said, pointing at the door. “We got company.”

A shot rang out, hitting the wall just above David’s head.

“No shit,” Adam said, turning and aiming his shotgun towards the direction from which the shot came from.

Another shot came, this one pinging off of a metal shelf and the bullet ricocheting somewhere in front of them. David and Adam began to run towards the door again, LJ in hot pursuit. David reached the door first, opening it to let David get out. Another shot rang out, this one hitting David in his left shoulder. David spun backwards part way and fell to the floor. Adam turned to grab David and pull him, but LJ shot again, this one nearly hitting Adam but getting the wall just behind him instead.

“Go,” David said, his voice filled with pain.. “Get Brock, take care of him just in case, you hear?”

“David,” Adam said. Another shot rang out, again nearly hitting Adam as LJ came into full view at the top of the passageway.

“Get out, NOW!” David said. Adam nodded and ran outside to find Brock.

LJ slowed his pace, the angry grin on his face, the gun pointed right at the door in case Adam should come back. He approached David, then pointed the gun at him. He neared David as David laid there in pain, the blood running from the gunshot wound. LJ got right up and stood over David’s legs, ready to pull the trigger. David kicked his feet, knocking LJ to the ground, LJ’s gun skidding across the concrete for two or three feet. David stood up, his left shoulder a bit lower than his right. LJ took a swing, an uppercut to David’s right jaw. David stumbled backwards, breathing heavily. His left arm hung at his side, his wrist finally giving out under the conditions, the brace no longer doing its job. LJ turned to look for the gun when David took his right fist and clocked LJ in the back of his head, knocking him down on the ground. LJ looked up just as David was about to kick him square in the face and ducked. David’s kick went just over LJ’s head. As it did, LJ grabbed David’s leg and pulled him down to the ground. David landed on the gunshot-inflicted shoulder, the pain causing a few tears to form.

LJ spotted the gun and bent down to pick it up, but David got up and bull rushed him, slamming LJ into the concrete wall of the warehouse, his head smacking up against the wall like it was on a spring. David began to fire right hook after right hook beating on LJ’s face like it was a punching game and he was going for the grand prize. LJ finally blocked one of David’s right hooks, took his right arm and twisted it, forcing David to the ground. Then he kicked David in the face. David collapsed to the ground. Between the broken wrist and the excruciating pain it caused and the loss of blood from the gunshot wound, David was nearly spent. His breathing began to shallow. He rolled over, looking up at LJ as LJ picked up the gun and pointed it right at David’s head.

“Looks like it’s game over, old friend,” LJ said, breathing heavily as he cocked the gun. “And you lose.”

The shot rang out, echoing across the storage area. David winced in pain. LJ raised his head. Then, LJ fell backwards onto the concrete ground in a thud. The smoke rising from David’s gun in his left hand.

“I. Always. Win,” David said, his voice shallow and full of pain. He dropped the gun on the ground, then tried to sit up. As he did, Adam came running in, the sound of sirens approaching in the background.

“Whoa, David, you need to lie down,” Adam said as he looked, checking out David’s wound through his shirt. Brock came in a moment later, his attention focusing on David whose wound was beginning to bleed enough that it slowly flowed across the concrete.

“DAVY!” Brock shouted, his eyes searching Adam’s face for an answer. “Is he....?”

“Not yet,” Adam said.

“Gonna take.... more than that,” David said, a slight grin spilling across his face.

The sirens roared to a stop outside, the blue and red lights flashing. The police burst into the warehouse, Adam dropping his gun and raising his hands. Brock, perhaps as an instinct, followed Adam’s move. With guns drawn, the police began to look around the warehouse, fanning out in their usual way to inspect for other people. They began to speak with Adam and Brock, both put in handcuffs temporarily until the police could sort out who was who and what was what. The paramedics came in with a stretcher. After tending to David’s gunshot wound, he was placed on the stretcher and carted off, his eyes slightly open, and a half grin on his face.

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Wednesday 17 May 2023 | 23:45 CDT (GMT -5)

David sat in the hospital bed, his left shoulder banged and packed with gauze to assist with any bleeding. His broken wrist, damaged in everything that had happened over the last 24 hours, was reset by the surgeons and placed in a cast this time, the doctor fearing David would never heal properly without completely immobilizing the left wrist and forearm. Adam held Brock as they stood there visiting David. Nathan, Louis, Harry, Paty, and even Nathaniel Thornton were in the waiting room. Doctor’s orders no more than 2 people allowed to visit at one time.

Suddenly, alarms began to ring out from the machines monitoring David. Nurses came running into the room. One looked at the machines and hollered for the crash cart, two seconds later it came barreling into the room. Adam and Brock were forced out of the room by the staff as they attempted to handle the situation. David’s vitals had taken a sharp turn for the worst and, at this moment, the hospital was doing everything in its power to stabilize them. Outside of the room, Brock and Adam looked on helplessly waiting for someone to say something. The door opened, David was being wheeled out on his hospital bed, nurses trying to keep him alive as they raced him towards the emergency room for immediate surgery.

“What’s going on?” Brock demanded as the lead nurse began to take him aside.

“Mr. Devereaux, we have to take him in for an examination to see what’s happening. It may be that he’s suffered an infection from the gunshot wound or maybe it nicked something we didn’t see when we originally examined him. At this time, I cannot give you a clear answer. When I have more information, I will tell you.” she said as Adam put his arms around Brock, consoling him.

“I can’t,” Brock said, feeling as if his brain was going to snap like a broken rubber band. “I can’t, baby, I can’t.” He simply broke down, nearly inconsolable.

“He’s going to be fine,” Adam said, hoping he was right as he rubbed Brock’s back and pulled him in tighter. “It’s going to be okay.” Adam escorted Brock into the waiting room. The family needed to be told about what was going on. Of course, when Adam and Brock entered, it wasn’t hard for them to figure out something was wrong. Adam explained the situation. Harry and Pat looked at each other, Nathan put his head in his hands. Lucas folded his hands and started praying silently. There was nothing else to do but wait.

?
?

The sky was blue, crystal clear and bright. David stood at the edge of a river, dressed in the same jeans and t-shirt he had been earlier. No one was around him. The breeze felt inviting and warm. He approached the river’s edge, ready to step into it when he felt something forcing him not to. Almost as if it was pulling him away from the river with some force. Try as he might, he couldn’t reach the edge. He tried again, but the force prevented him from even getting close to the river. Someone appeared. Someone he’d never seen before.

“What’s that?” David asked.

“The Other Side,” she said. “But it’s not ready for you. Or more specifically, you’re not ready for it.”

“Why am I here?” David said.

“Clerical error,” she replied. “you wouldn’t like where you’re going. You’re being given another chance. Don’t mess it up.”

“It’s not your time,” someone said, faintly. He didn’t know who. Didn’t know where it had come from. He didn’t recognize the voice. It wasn’t the lady who he was talking to because, somehow, she vanished.

Again he tried to reach the water. “Not today!” someone shouted. He could hear loud and frantic beeping.

“CLEAR!” someone shouted.

Suddenly, he was jolted into a room surrounded by people in surgeon’s masks and hats, bright lights over top of him. He looked around the room. He could hear applause, for some reason, from some in the room as the beeping began to quiet down and resume what felt a more natural rhythm.

“You’re in the emergency room, David. I’m Dr. Chang. You’re a very lucky fellow, let me tell you,” the doctor said as David tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

P A P E E T E · T A H I T I
Papeete International Airport | Wednesday 17 May 2023 | 16:45 TDT (GMT -10)

Nanette and Louis boarded the private Devereaux jet, which had been called to pick them up in Tahiti. Under the circumstances, it was the best way for them to get back. The flights to the mainland were booked and rather than let David lie in hospital for days without seeing him, Nanette wanted to be home. They both sat in the plush leather chairs, a small table between them with bottles of water. Neither was in a mood to drink, not that they didn’t need one after being told the events taking place back in Houston. The plane screamed off of the runway, gaining positive climb. The captain retracted the landing gear as the plane was cleared to 7,000 feet. The Pacific Ocean began to spread out beneath them as the tropical paradise that was Californian Polynesia disappeared behind the plane.

From the shore a man in a white dress shirt and tan dress pants watched as the plane took off, a cigarette in his mouth. His hair was almost white. He took a puff of the cigarette and checked his watch. He returned his gaze to the airplane as it began to disappear. Suddenly from out over the water a giant fireball lit up the sky. The man smiled as he tossed his cigarette onto the sand and began to walk away. As he walked away, he said, “Adiós, cabrón.”

H O U S T O N · R E G I O N A L · M E D I C A L · C E N T E R
Houston, Texas | Thursday 18 May 2023 | 01:47 CDT (GMT -5)

Brock stood up as the door opened, a bottle of water in his hand. The lead nurse entered. She took the floor center stage, to so speak, in front of everyone gathered. “We found the problem. There was a nick in one of his arteries we didn’t see originally. Dr. Change and his staff have fixed that problem. David is in stable condition right now. He will be brought back to his room in about 20-30 minutes.

Brock stood at the door of the waiting room on the 7th floor. Every time the elevator opened, he looked to see if David was coming back. Finally, the door opened and David was being wheeled on the hospital bed back to his room. Brock stood in the hallway, his penetrating gaze looking David over as he passed by. Then he saw David’s face. His hazel eyes partially opened, and that shit-eating grin that David always had on his face no matter what. For the first time, Brock felt everything was going to be okay.

Houston [Earth II]

Houston [Earth II]

Chapter 1: Business As Usual

Trust

Blueprints

Angles

Fast Lane

The Fight

California Schemin'

Aftermath

Awakening

The Reward

Back to Business

An Equal Partnership

Secrets

Little Jack's War: Part 1

Little Jack's War: Part 2

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