Episode 0007 - Never Have I Ever

The hospital doors burst open as the paramedics wheeled in the gurney carrying Samantha Devereaux. An oxygen mask was covering her nose and mouth, and literally hundreds of small cuts bled across her face, neck, shoulders, as well as the rest of her body beneath the white sheet that was already staining red. Two nurses and a doctor rushed from around the front desk to take over, continuing the journey down the hall towards the emergency operating room.

"Massive trauma," the lead paramedic, Austin Kennedy told the doctor. "Gunshot wound to the abdomen, countless lacerations, possible head trauma, three broken ribs, and a punctured lung."

"Get her to OR3 stat," the doctor hollered to his nurses as Austin let go of the gurney and watched them go through the swinging doors to the rooms beyond.  He heard a commotion behind him and turned to see the Devereaux family arriving in full force.  He closed his eyes and took a breath before approaching them. He knew from first-hand experience how this family could be, and he had no desire to be anywhere near them; but, being the paramedic on the scene, he knew he would have to give them some information, otherwise they would be harassing the medical staff incessantly.

"I demand to know what has happened," the older woman wearing sequins and a fur stole shouted harshly at the young receptionist behind the front desk. "If I don't get answers right this second, I will have the hospital shut down, and all of you pathetic little peons will lose your jobs."

"Aunt Dottie, please," cooed the young man with sandy blond hair coming up behind her. Drake Devereaux was probably the only level-headed member of that family, and Austin felt some sympathy for him.  How he maintained his sanity was beyond him.

"Don't you 'Aunt Dottie, please' me, young man," the aging diva seethed at her nephew. "We are Devereauxes, and when we speak, we expect answers!"

"Oh, shut up, you old bat," spat the middle-aged man who had just arrived with his wife in tow. Maxwell Devereaux and his wife Alyssa were quickly walking up to the other members of their family. "Now is not the time to be throwing around your weight, although Lord knows you've got enough of it. Now just shut up and let me find out what's happening."

"Well," Dorothy Devereaux snarled, "I never - -"

"Yeah," Max shot back, "maybe if you did once in a while, you wouldn't be so riled up all the time."

Austin bit back a chuckle as he approached the group.  "Excuse me.  I'm Austin Kennedy, and I was the one to bring your - uh... Miss Devereaux in.  If you want to step over here into the waiting area, I can give you some information on what we know so far...."

As Austin led the entitled family out of the lobby, Melinda Allen sat in the manager's office at the bank, shaken by the events that had taken place.  Officer Seamus Radha sat in the chair next to her going over the notes he had just taken.

"And you're sure you didn't see the color or make of the car at all?" he asked.

"No," Melinda said, wiping her nose once again with the Kleenex she was holding. "It all happened so fast.  I had just been fired - -" she turned and looked out the glass partition at Darren Fontaine, who was speaking animatedly with another officer, pointing at the shattered front window, with the wind blowing rain into the bank, "- - so I wasn't exactly paying much attention to anything else.  I just heard the loud bang, and suddenly Miss Devereaux was coming through the front window..."

"It's alright," Officer Radha said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I know things like this can be a very traumatic experience.  You've been very helpful, and I appreciate you telling me everything you can."  He handed her a card that had his name and telephone number.  "If you think of anything else at all, please give me a call."  He stood up, continuing to look down on her.  "And if you just need someone to talk to, someone who understand what things like this can do to you, please don't hesitate to call. I'm always available."

Melinda looked up at the man and saw him smiling down at her.  His dark brown eyes shone brightly, and his tanned skin almost glowed.  Melinda nodded and turned away from him.  She was a married woman, for crying out loud, she certainly did not need to be having thoughts like that about a man ten years her junior. She heard him walk out of the office, and she sat for a moment, staring at the mess of paperwork on the desk in front of her.  Then something caught her eye.  Glancing back at Darren to ensure he was still busy with the police, she stood up and leaned over the desk, moving the papers around so that she could read what was written on the one.

"Oh, my God," she whispered, taking in the full import of what she was looking at.  "This can't be!  If this is real, then - - then - - "

She picked up the paper and shoved it in her purse. She turned back around and glared at Darren with burning hatred in her eyes.  "You and that bitch think you have the upper hand.  Well, not any more.  With this, you'll be the ones doing what I say!"

***************************************************************

At the Fontaine house on the north part of Treasure Island, Veronica Fontaine lay back naked on her bed, her hands running through the dark, wavy hair of the man who was currently giving her more pleasure than her husband ever could.  His strong, tanned shoulders, his 6'2" meaty frame, and his insatiable sexual appetite kept her more than satisfied, and she groaned in ecstasy as he continued to make her squirm.

Nearly an hour later, the two lay next to each other, covered in sweat, both literally glowing with satisfied pleasure.  She turned on her side and allowed her hand to explore the entire body of Van Steel.  He may have been the one to do all of her husband's dirty work, but she had no problems allowing him to do his own style of dirty work on her.

"Is Darren keeping you here during the storm, or does he have you doing work for him elsewhere?" she asked, her fingers gently caressing his chest and stomach.

"Actually, I just finished up one job for him," he smirked, thinking back to her little trip, following Samantha Devereaux and her crazy aunt from the airport.  When she stopped at the bank on the way back to her house, he had thought it would be the perfect time.  She was standing outside, talking with that idiot of a bartender, and Van knew he would never have a better chance. But then that dark blue sedan had pulled up right in front of him and the blast that had come out of the car had sent the bartender reeling back and Sam through the front window of the bank.  The car had squealed out of there, its tires spinning on the wet road, and Van had sat there staring, wondering what the hell had just happened.  It didn't matter, though.  Even if someone else had done it for him, the deed was done and Darren Fontaine would be happy.

"Well, maybe you can do a little job for me next," Veronica said playfully, twirling a strand of long blond hair with her fingers.

"I thought I just did that," Van grinned, already feeling his body respond to her seduction.

"Oh, we'll do more of that, no doubt about it," she smiled, winking at him.  "But I'm thinking of something that requires a bit more ... of your other skills."  She snuggled up close to him, her hand reaching down to ensure he would respond appropriately. "There's someone that could complicate things for us, and I'm thinking if that person was out of the way, you and I could be free to be together as much and as often as we wanted...."

"Mmmmmmm," Van closed his eyes and lay back.  "Tell me more about it...."

As Veronica began to tell her lover exactly what she wanted, through the crack in the not-quite-closed bedroom door, the dark blue eyes of Simon Fontaine watched his stepmother continue to cheat on his father, all the while filming it with his cell phone held in front of him.  He was tired of her controlling his father and every other man around her.  From now on, he was going to the one in control!

Episode 0006 - Houses And The People That Own Them

Even without an impending hurricane, Saturdays at the bank were breezy, light shifts for Melinda. With fifteen minutes left on the clock, she’d sent the other tellers home and had already begun counting the till and pulling together paperwork. Darren was in the vault with the district manager. Outside the glass frontage of the bank, Melinda watched a moment as a garbage can rolled by and  dumped its contents into the gusty wind. She doubted the bank would be open the next day and was looking forward to a lazy day at home. She’d had her fill of the Fontaine’s and the Deveraux’s for the week. She briefly considered whether she should be ushering her family North to escape the storm while she watched the Jewelers across the street nail boards across their windows. She shook it off. If they fled every time the “experts” warned of a hurricane, they’d live in Canada. 

Melinda began to hurry through closing tasks and was so engrossed in the process that she failed to notice the old woman decked in sequins and fur, a little dog tucked under her arm, approaching the door. When the door opened it seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Dottie half stumbled in, followed by what must have been a dozen food wrappers and god knows what else, and pulled the door shut using her weight as leverage. Melinda’s attempt at  not rolling her eyes was a failure.

The old lady looked like she’d just waddled off a roller coaster. Her hair was a bluish puff, one of her eyelashes was peeling in the corner and that jacket had seen better days. The dog was probably asleep but Melinda had to wonder whether it was dead and this crackpot was just oblivious. The potentially dead dog’s Mistress approached the counter and carefully unfolded several pieces of paper.

“I’m Mrs…” The old lady began. Melinda could see Samantha Deveraux standing directly in front of the lobby windows, hair whipping in the wind, blatantly flirting with the young bartender that worked next door to the bank. Those damned… “Deveraux.”

Melinda stared blankly at the stranger in front of her. 

“Mrs. Deveraux?” she asked.

“Oh yes, dear. Mrs. Deveraux. That’s what I just said.” The old woman’s eyes narrowed, zeroing into Melinda as if searching for something. “I understand that this storm is causing absolute havoc with the barometric pressure. I’ve just come from a lengthy Transatlantic flight and I couldn’t hear a thing for the first hour. It wasn’t until my second vodka soda that my ears finally cleared. Perhaps you could use one yourself, Mrs. Allen, you look a little tense and it’s always possible that you’ve gone deaf?”

Melinda’s throat clicked. Wait, did she just say…

“Oh, I know! Mrs. Allen I believe you’re probably wondering about the OTHER Mrs. Deveraux. The Dead Mrs. Deveraux. The one your Husband worked for. My dearly departed  brother, like many men, suffered from the unfortunate embarrassment of a flaccid will and a robust libido. Why he chose to marry that woman into the Deveraux family goes against all reasonable judgment. She was the Mrs. Deveraux who borrowed many of my things.” Dottie tapped a gloved finger against the counter.

Darren walked into the bank lobby, bid the District Manager a fine afternoon and locked the door behind him. Sam didn’t seem to notice as she was busy emptying a red solo cup down her throat in the wind.

“How may I help you, Mrs. Deveraux?” Melinda gained her composure, noticing Darren milling around the lobby.

“Well, Mrs. Allen, I think we’ll be helping each other today. You will find the account numbers for two of my mortgages on the papers I’ve just provided to you. In addition, you will find the information for a wire transfer that I made this morning. The transfer will cover all balances and fees related to the total satisfaction of both of those debts.”

What she was asking was a rather lengthy process and the bank had just closed. Melinda looked to Darren to intervene. Instead, he smiled, looked at Melinda and said “Of course, Mrs. Deveraux. Melinda would be happy to process those transactions for you today.”

“Thank you, Darren! So nice to see you by the way.” She smiled at Darren and turned back to Melinda with the biggest shit eating grin Melinda could recall. “Now, Mrs. Allen.”

Melinda entered the first account number. The address for the property startled her. Even more so the account owner.

“That’s right, Mrs. Allen. My brother’s wife was a guest in MY home. Perhaps you should look at the next address as well before we proceed?” Dottie’s grin widened.

Melinda entered the next account number. She started to panic. It was her house! The mortgage had been settled with the Dead Mrs. Deveraux’s passing. What the…

“Mrs. Allen, let me explain. When my brother’s wife’s trust attempted to settle your mortgage, I decided to acquire the debt instead. Unfortunately the attorney involved in these matters…isn’t the sharpest pencil. I do not believe in indentured servants, Mrs. Allen and when I learned of the details of the Dead Mrs. Deveraux’s will, I couldn’t allow things to proceed as she had hoped. The woman had many hopes and this was by far not the first of those to go up in smoke. So, today your mortgage is truly paid, but the property is owned by me. You may continue to live there for free for as long as you’d like.” Dottie winked at her with her loose lash. She winked at her. The demented old bitch really just winked at her.

“Mrs. Deveraux, I don’t know what all of this is about, but it isn’t appropriate to discuss this here. You should be speaking to my husband. And you should know that I’ll be talking to an attorney. I don’t think you can just go around buying people’s houses out from under them. It doesn’t matter what your name is.” Melinda shook, her composure began to melt into rage.

“Mrs. Allen, you do that! You should speak to an attorney! Maybe they could recommend a good divorce attorney? I know your husband has been a ‘good provider’ for you but I just couldn’t stand the thought of an honest man being trapped in the impossible dilemma of weighing the duty to one’s own family against interminable bondage. He’d lose his honesty and his character and would hardly be suitable to so much as breathe any longer. So, he no longer has a job with us Mrs. Allen. I’m sure he will be greatly relieved.”

Melinda’s resolve uncoiled and she sprung upward, failing to completely scale the counter.

“You fucking bitch!” She shrieked. Dottie jumped backward as Darren bolted for Melinda. He grabbed Melinda by the shoulders and said sternly “Melinda collect your things and I’ll escort you out. Don’t make me phone the authorities.”

“Fuck my things, Darren, I don’t want any of this.” Melinda said, grabbing her purse and jacket. “Just unlock the door and let me the Hell out of here.” Melinda walked toward the door and pivoted on her heels, facing the other two. Everything about her was in flames. Hair, eyes, fury.

“And for the record, you can both kiss my a…”

There was an incredible “bang”. Samantha Deveraux’s body hurtled through a blizzard of glass onto the floor of  lobby followed by the sound of squealing tires in the hammering rain...

Episode 0005 - The Coming Storm

The morning was overcast, a wind blowing in from the Gulf. It hadn't started raining yet, but the news reports were already reporting Hurricane Gina as getting stronger as it moves across the Gulf towards Florida.  Even though it was not even seven o'clock in the morning, traffic was already heavy.  Melinda sighed as she got stuck at another red light and glanced at the clock on the dash.  She still had fifteen minutes, so she should be able to make it.

She managed to make it to Treasure State Bank with five minutes to spare.  As head teller, it was her responsibility to get into the bank and have all the drawers set up with the right cash amounts before the regular tellers arrived at eight.  She fumbled through her purse for her keys, but the glass door suddenly opened in front of her.

"Get in here," said a stern voice. "We need to talk."

Flustered, Melinda walked in, hearing the door click locked behind her.  A man in his mid-fifties with greying temples came up beside her and casually grabbed her arm. He led her through the teller area and into a back office, where he closed the door with a slam.

"Mr. Fontaine," Melinda began, unsure what was happening.  "I don't understand.  What's wrong?"

"I think you know exactly what's wrong," he growled, sitting down behind his desk.

Melinda's eyes opened wide.  Certainly he could not have found out about Quinley's plan.  If he did...

"We've got a hurricane coming," the man said, "and that means everyone is going to want to take time off to board up their homes, spend time with families, or even worse - evacuate!  We've got to plan ahead and get on top of this before anyone tries to take off.  We can't afford to have any delays for our customers.  Time is money!"

Melinda sighed with relief.  This she could handle.  Darren Fontaine owned Treasure State Bank, having started it ten years ago with his wife, Veronica.  They had six branches along the Gulf Coast of Florida, and they catered to the elderly rich families along the coast. And while the Fontaines were not anywhere near as wealthy as the Devereaux family, they liked to act like they were, constantly looking down on anyone who did not make at least seven digits.  But Melinda had worked at the bank since it had opened, so she had grown accustomed to their attitudes.

"Not a problem," Melinda said. "I will talk to them when they get in this morning."

"See that you do," Fontaine said, waving her out.  As soon as she was gone, he picked up the phone and dialed.  "It's me," he said. "We've got to move fast. With this hurricane coming, we don't have much time. You know what to do."

He hung up the phone and smiled.  Life was good...

********************************************

Sam was pissed. She looked at her watch again and then back up at the flight schedule. It showed the flight from Rome was thirty minutes behind schedule. She could not believe Max had made her come pick up Aunt Dottie. He knew that she could not stand the old hag, and she figured he was doing it out of spite. He was still upset about not getting control of the company, so he was taking it out on her. And after that travesty of a sexual encounter the previous night, she was not in the mood for this.

"Well, well, well, look who deemed herself good enough to finally come pick me up!"

The screeching voice came from behind her and startled Sam. She turned and found herself face-to-face with a woman in her seventies, her tanned skin wrinkled under the wavy blue-silver hair. Her sequined dress was reflecting all of the lights, and the small poodle in her arms was sound asleep. Dorothy Devereaux was a real piece of work - and definitely not a good one.

"Aunt Dottie," Sam said with a bit of venom in her tone. "So good to see you."

"Liar," the older woman said, pushing the dog into Sam's arms.  "Now take me to the car so we can go home.  I have some things to share with the family."

"Gee, can't wait," Sam sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that tone," Aunt Dottie spat back as she walked outside, her heels clicking on the concrete sidewalk. "Believe me when I say - what I have to tell you all will change this family's future forever!"

***********************************************

Van Steel sat in his car outside the St. Pete-Clearwater International Airport, watching as Sam and her Aunt climbed into the limousine. He started the car, preparing to follow the limo, when his cell phone rang.  He pulled into the line of cars waiting to exit the airport and answered the call.

"Steel here," he said.

"It's me," a man's voice said.  Steel listened carefully and then hung up the phone.  Perfect, he thought, laying the phone down in the passenger seat next to a gun.  This was what he had been waiting for, and the time had finally come. Samantha Devereaux was going to pay for what she did to him!

Episode 0004 - Tonight's on Mother

Sam sat at the bar, unworried, buying rounds for Luis and Tony, a pair of Cuban brothers from Miami that she’d met an hour before. MNKY-Bar was the Red-Light hangout for the Island’s upper echelon brats. Tony was a Jai alai player and Luis dealt cocaine. Luis was cuter but Tony was richer. She was having trouble deciding between them and was considering enjoying both of them. Mostly she was just grateful for the distraction.

“You are too kind,” Tony smiled as he raised a full glass of Chardonnay “But I will buy the next round!” He placed a hand on Sam’s bare shoulder and caressed her golden skin.

“Yes, and I’ll get the round after!” Luis clinked his glass against Tony’s and rested his hand on Sam’s thigh.

“No need, boys.” Sam tipped her full glass, emptying it down her throat “Tonight’s on Mother!” Sam laughed hysterically and her two suitors followed suit. 

 “You have a VERY generous Mother!” Luis said, stroking his hand up her back “She must be a wonderful woman!”

“Yes, with such a beautiful daughter!” Tony slurred.

Sam placed her left hand on Tony’s face; her right hand found Luis. She was glowing. And drunk.

“Boys, I have the best kind of Mother in the world” Sam patted their faces “She’s fucking dead.”

After three more rounds Sam tired of the Miami brothers and MNKY-Bar so she ordered a car uptown for dinner. She signed her Mother’s name to the tab and asked for her jacket. When she got down to the street, her car hadn’t arrived. She swiped at her phone and fired off a text message, laughing. Lights flashed in the distant clouds. It couldn’t have been long after Midnight.

“Samantha Devereaux!” She recognized the baritone voice before she turned. His name was, eye-rollingly, Van Steel and his father commanded an empire of exclusive resorts on the Mediterranean. He kissed her dead on the lips, and she felt his hand rest on her derrière. 

“Van, wow, it’s been a minute!” She tried her best to hide her irritation, but hiding her irritation wasn’t really something Sam was capable of. He was unfortunately attractive, grotesquely wealthy and had the intellectual prowess of a porkchop.

“Samantha, you look divine! Your hair is gorgeous, your skin in flawless,” Van looked down at her breasts “and that dress…” 

“Isn’t wash and wear so get your paws off my ass, Van.” Sam swatted him away. “Look, Van it was great seeing you, but I have a car coming.”

“Oh, come on Sam. I haven’t seen you since the Regatta. Join me for a drink?” Van was perpetually tan. At least six two. Never missed the gym. But his suit was Armani.

“What is that, Italian?” Sam gawked at his jacket “I’m going to dinner, Van.”

“Where? I’ll join you.” Van slyly smiled, the sky flashing behind him.

“Uptown.” Sam looked at her phone, hoping he’d give up.

“I’ll drive, my car’s with the valet.” He motioned toward a man smoking a cigarette in front of a Rolls at the curb. Sam was about to decline when the sky opened up, pouring torrents of rain on them as they fled to Van’s Rolls.

They parked near the Pier and had sex in the front seat. It lasted about a minute and a half. Van lit a joint and handed it to Sam who’d stayed dressed for the worst sex of her life. She took a haul off a bottle of Jack Daniels and a puff of the joint.

“I was sorry to hear about your Mom.” Van said, zipping his fly.

“I wasn’t.” Sam replied, looking at her phone.

“Oh, come on Sam, you pretend like you’re a bitch but…”

“I’m hungry.” Sam cut him off just as she received a notification. She looked at her phone and was obviously thrilled.

“What is it?” Van asked.

“Oh, my Aunt will be flying in this weekend.” She took another haul of JD. She received a phone alert. She looked half concerned and half elated by the glow of her phone. “And…there’s a hurricane coming”.

Episode 0003 - Home is Where the Lies Are

The night was still warm as the 2010 Toyota pulled up into the driveway of the modest, one-story stucco house with the Spanish tile roof.  Two palm trees offered minimal coverage in the front yard, and a wood fence surrounded the back.  Gregory Allen sat silent in the car, staring at his house.  The light was on in the kitchen, and he could see his wife's shadow as she washed dishes.  He had no doubt she and their son had finished dinner a while ago.  He had never expected this to run as late as it did, and he wasn't sure how he was going to tell them the news.  As far as he was concerned, it was great news - but he knew Melinda's feelings about the Devereaux family, and he knew she would not want to accept the bequest.

He got out of the car and walked slowly up to the front door.  As he let himself in, he could hear the radio coming from Thad's room.  Doing his homework, Gregory assumed. The boy always did his homework with the radio turned up.  He smiled. Thad was a good boy, made good grades, and never gave them any problems.  In a way, he could almost understand why Melinda did not want the Devereaux money.  For all their money, that family was never happy.

"Is that you, Greg?"

Melinda peeked out of the kitchen and smiled when she saw her husband.  He came up to her and planted a big kiss on her lips.  "Sorry, I'm late," he apologized.  "You will never believe what happened."

Melinda brushed back some strands of red hair and sighed.  "Oh, I have no doubt.  It's the Devereaux family," she said. "With them, there's always some new drama."

He sat down at the kitchen table while Melinda set a plate down before him.  In between bites, he related to her the story of what happened - the bequest to pay off their mortgage, the strings attached, and the revelation that Parker Quinley was actually a Devereaux.  As he finished up his plate, Melinda sat down across from him, her hands folded on the table in front of him.

"I can't believe it," she said, shaking her head.  "Our mortgage paid off.  I don't know..."

Gregory placed his hands over hers and looked her in the eye.  "I know what you think of that family.  Believe me, I, of all people, know the problems and drama they face all the time.  But, Mel, I'm telling you.  Beneath it all, Mrs. Devereaux was a good woman.  Yeah, she was stern and hard on her family and very strict with her employees, but down deep, that woman cared about people.  And besides, we could really use this right now.  Thad graduates in the Spring, and we'll need money to pay for his college.  I really would love to give him that."

Melinda smiled.  "I know. So would I.  He's done without so much.  It would be nice to be able to pay for his college, so he can actually enjoy those years and not have to work his way through like we did."

Gregory grinned.  He stood up, pulled his wife into his arms, and kissed her passionately.  "Thank you, Mel!  I love you so much!" He left to go change out of his funeral clothes.  Melinda watched him go, her smile slowly fading.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crinkled, folded envelope. She carefully unfolded it and looked at the writing on the front.  "To be opened only in the event of my death."  It was signed by the matriarch of the Devereaux clan.

"You'd better be right about this, Parker," she whispered to no one in particular.  "I'm putting my family's future on the line for you!"

*******************************************

Meanwhile, seventeen year old Thad Allen sat at his desk typing on his computer.  The radio was blaring, but he was not listening.  He had his school books opened around him in case either of his parents walked in; but on his computer screen, an instant messenger program was opened, and he was chatting with someone.

"I should be able to get away this Friday night. There's a dance at school, so I can tell my parents I am going to the dance."

"Won't they wonder who your date is?"

"No, I'll just tell them I'm going with some friends.  They won't ask."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure.  I just want to spend more time with you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too.  It feels like forever since we last saw each other."

"I know. But you've had plenty going on in your life.  I understand. How are you doing, by the way?"

"I'm okay. It was hard, but I got through it. None of that matters, though.  All that matters is you."

"Smile."

"So, do you want to meet at the usual spot on Friday night?"

"Sure.  Say around 8:00?"

"That works.  I look forward to seeing you.  I miss you, Thad.  I love you!"

"I love you, too, Drake!  See you Friday."

Episode 0002 - An Envelope, An Heir and Another Jack Daniels

“This is PREPOSTOROUS,” Max raged “I’m not just going to sit here and let Mama play games with us from the Great Beyond! There is NO third son. We would know, she couldn’t just hide something like that!”

Alyssa motioned for Max to sit. He waved her away with his hand. 

Sam poked her head through the door. "Max is pissed? What did I miss?" Sam, beaming, sat in a folding chair. Max looked at his sister. He hated her.

“The Will states that all beneficiaries be present and that would only leave Allen.” Max looked at his sister. “Unless there’s something you haven’t told us Sam.”

Sam charged at Max, claws out, ripping at his face. Drake, prying her off his brother, looked at Gregory. “Everyone calm down,” Drake pleaded “and let Allen explain himself.”

Gregory began backing to the door. This was getting to be a bit much, even if it meant he’d be free and clear of his mortgage. He reached behind his back for the door handle only to find that it wouldn’t budge. He was locked in with these lunatics.

“Mr. Devereaux, I have nothing to explain” Gregory fished in his pocket for his wallet “I keep a picture of my parents in my wallet. I don’t understand what Mrs. Devereaux is referring to…or who she’s referring to. See?” Gregory held up a small picture of a smiling elderly couple with kind faces. Obviously Blue Collar.

Alyssa cleared her throat. “Why don’t we all just calm down and let Quinley finish. Obviously… Allen isn’t…”

“Qualified.” Sam interrupted, laughing. “I agree, Quinley just get on with it. I need another Jack Daniels.”

Everyone looked to Quinley, who nodded.

“Well, you see,” Quinley reached into his attaché “The final page of Mrs. Devereaux’s Will is sealed. In this envelope.” Quinley pulled an unmarked white envelope from his case.

“So, open the damned thing, I’m sobering up.” Complained Sam.

“Of course,” Quinley reached again into his attaché for Mrs. Devereaux’s white gold letter opener. Max, Alyssa and Drake approached Quinley. Gregory stared at his shoes. Sam yawned theatrically.

Quinley carefully tore the envelope open and removed a single folded piece of paper. He opened it and began reading.

“The remaining 25% along with this letter opener I bequeath to my dear son…” Quinley stopped. His mouth gaped, beads of sweat appeared on his face. 

“Give. Me. That.” Alyssa yelped, lurching forward and snatching it from his hand. “I’ll read it. The remaining 25%...blah…blah…my dear son…” Alyssa stopped. She looked at Quinley. “No, this can’t be right…Is this a JOKE?”

Quinley reached for the wall to steady himself against the spinning of the room.

“WHAT DOES IT SAY?” Max demanded.

“What does it say?” Alyssa laughed “Why don’t you ask your brother?” and threw the letter at Parker Quinley...Devereaux.

Episode 0001 - From Every Ending, A Beginning...

"...Devereaux was a strong woman, dedicated to her family and to her community. Treasure Island would not be the community that it is without her. Her great-grandfather came here years ago and turned this small island into a thriving, close-knit community of families and businesses; her grandfather and father carried on the tradition, and she gladly accepted the burden of continuing her family's legacy. When her husband died prematurely, she raised three children who each have their own Devereaux characteristics, and who will no doubt honor their mother as they ..."

Drake Devereaux shifted uncomfortably in the folding chair as he listed to the priest drone on and on about his mother. He wiped away some strands of sandy blond hair that had fallen across his forehead and rested his hands once again in his lap. He loved his mother, no doubt about that, but she was so wrapped up in the family business and family legacy and embracing the family heritage that somehow or another, any actual familial emotions got lost in the process. He had kept up the charade for long enough, and with her gone, maybe for the first time in his life, he could finally be himself.

 His older brother Maxwell, however, was the perfect son his mother always wanted. His chiseled good looks, his dark wavy hair, his piercing blue eyes - even now, at their mother's funeral, he had the perfect expression of strength and sorrow, his arm wrapped dutifully around his picture-perfect wife, Alyssa, who was wiping the tears from her eyes with a Kleenex. Everyone could see how much the death of Mama Devereaux was affecting them. But Drake knew better. He knew that on the inside, those two could not wait for this service to end so they could get back to the house and read the will. It was pretty much a given that Max, as the older brother, would inherit the business and the majority of the family fortune - which was fine by Drake. The further he could get away from all of it, the happier he would be.

Samantha Devereaux sat on the other side of Alyssa. As the youngest of the three siblings, she was the one who pretty much got away with everything. It was never expected that she would go into the family business. No, it was expected she would marry into another wealthy family, so that the Devereaux empire could expand even further through her. But Sam had other plans. She had always been the trouble maker, skipping school, getting caught underage in bars, getting arrested. She was what some might call the black sheep of the family. But in Sam's mind, she knew exactly what she was doing. In fact, everything she was did was calculated for a purpose.  And soon, they would all find out exactly what that purpose was.

"...ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, from dust we were formed, and to dust we shall return. But our soul, our spirit lives on, and as her body is laid to its final resting place, we take comfort in knowing that her soul has gone on to be with our Lord for all eternity..."

Sam nearly choked on the thought. That priest knew nothing about her mother, otherwise he would be admitting that she was likely burning in hell.  Or, more likely, she was down there giving Lucifer orders, taking over like she did everything else in everyone else's lives.  Good riddance, you old bat, she thought with a smirk.

The service ended, and as the sun began to set along the coast line, people expressed their condolences and left the small family cemetery.  By the time twilight was falling, the Devereaux children climbed into the sleek, black stretch limo to return home.  As the car began to pull out of the cemetery, inside Max spoke up,

"Well, now that we've got that out of the way, we need to start addressing things and get everything settled as quickly as possible."

"Of course," Sam said with a chuckle. "I mean, we wouldn't want to delay you and that tramp of yours from getting your hands on all that money, now would we?"

"Sam," Drake sighed.  "Please, can we just get through one night....?"

"Your brother is right," Max chided her. "We all know your feelings of me and my wife, you've made that abundantly clear, thousands of times. But now that Mama is not hear to protect you any more, it will not be tolerated.  You can either learn to accept our marriage and treat Alyssa with the respect she deserves, or you can get out of the house and out of our lives."

Sam laughed, twirling a long strand of her dark brown hair with her fingers. "Oh, I'm sure you two would just love that, wouldn't you? Well, I wouldn't count on that happening any time soon.  I plan to stick around for a long time, brother dearest.  And don't worry.  As far as your little hussy goes, she will get everything she deserves, believe me!"

"Enough!" Drake was surprised at the forcefulness of his own voice, but it was enough to quiet the car.  The remainder of the trip along Gulf Boulevard was a silent one, with Max comforting his wife, Sam typing away on her phone, and Drake staring out the window, watching one hotel and condominium plaza after another pass by. As the car began to reach the south end of the island, it pulled into a drive that led through a large wrought iron gate and down a long brick drive. The limo came to a rest before a three story, completely white  home that most would call a mansion. If nothing else, the Devereaux home was not modest.

The family members made their way as quickly as they could into the library at the back of the house, its large bay window overlooking the Gulf.  Night had settled in, and Parker Quinley, the family attorney, sat behind the desk, papers strewn out in front of him.  Max and Alyssa took the large, straight back chairs in front of the desk, while Drake settled into a more comfortable chair in the back corner.  Sam marched right up and sat on the corner of her desk, her short black skirt showing her smooth, sexy legs.  Max motioned for her to get off the desk, but she simply smiled and leaned back.

"If we can begin?" Max prompted, but Quinley held up his hand.

"Not yet," the middle aged man said, his salt and paper hair shaved close to his scalp. "We are waiting on someone else."

The Devereaux children looked at one another, wondering who else could possible be needed for the reading of their mother's will.  "I don't see why anyone else needs - - "

He was interrupted when the door opened, and a man in his late 40s dressed in black khakis and a grey polo shirt with the Devereaux crest embroidered on the left side of his chest came into the room. He appeared very uncomfortable and was not sure what to do.

"Come in, Mr. Allen," Quinley said, waving him in and motioning him to a chair next to Drake.

"Wait a minute," Max said, standing up.  "What is the hired help doing here?  This is a private family matter!"

Quinley sighed. "Sit down, Maxwell. Mr. Allen is here because I asked him to come. In order to read your mother's Will, I must have all of her beneficiaries present."

"Wait, what?" Gregory Allen was shocked. He knew his employer had died, but he was not invited to the funeral, so to think that he could possibly be in her Will was unbelievable.

"You've got to be kidding me," Alyssa spoke for the first time since they had left the gravesite. "I suppose she wanted to be benevolent and leave the little people something."

Drake shook his head and shook Gregory's hand, guiding him to the seat next to him. The sooner they could get this over, the sooner he could get out of here.

"Okay," Quinley began. "Now that everyone is here, we can begin.  I will skip over all of the legal necessities such as the sound mind and payment of proper debts portions, as I know none of you want to be here all night. So, let's get right to the bequests."

Sam licked her lips, and Drake noticed that Max sat up just a bit straighter in his chair, Alyssa holding tightly to his hand.  Gregory, on the other hand, was simply nervous, wringing his hands over and over.

"To my loyal employee, Gregory Allen, for all of his years of dedicated service and his faithfulness to my family, as well as his invaluable assistance after my own Brantley passed away well before his time, I hereby instruct my attorney to pay, in full, any outstanding balance on the mortgage that he may currently have on his home - - "

Gregory gasped, his eyes opening wide in shock.

" - - on the sole condition that he remain working with my family's company for so long as he lives. If at any time he tenders his resignation or otherwise is removed from our company for just cause, then any and all monies paid for the mortgage of his home shall then become due and payable back to my estate, in full, immediately thereupon."

Drake was unsure if Gregory heard the condition, as he was simply looking down at his lap, shaking his head in disbelief.  Drake glanced over at his brother and his wife and could already see their minds at work, trying to figure out a way to either fire Gregory or get him to quit, so they could get whatever menial amount of money that mortgage balance amounted to back into their coffers.

"To my free-spirited daughter, Samantha, I leave in trust the sum of three million dollars, to be held in trust until her thirty-fifth birthday, at which time, should the trustee, at his sole discretion, determine she is fit to be able to manage her own finances, the funds will be released for her use; in the meanwhile, said funds shall be used for her maintenance and education, should she choose to pursue a higher education for purposes of bettering her opportunities at a proper merger; otherwise, said funds shall remain in the trust and shall not be accessible by my daughter without the express consent of my trustee."

"What?!" Sam nearly jumped off the desk. "She can't do that to me! That's not fair! That bitch!" With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Quinley merely took a breath and then went on.

"All remaining assets, including the family business, all family real estate holdings, bank accounts, off short accounts, and the family home, shall be the property of my sons, to be divided as follows - - "

Drake rolled his eyes. Whatever it was, he'd simply sign it over to Max, take whatever money was left, and get the heck out of dodge. Max, on the other hand, along with Alyssa, were chomping at the bit to see just how large of a percentage they would be receiving.

"To my son, Drake, I leave the total amount of fifty percent..."

Drake raised up in surprise. Had he heard that right? Judging from the evil eye his brother and sister-in-law were giving him, he must have. Fifty percent? But why? His mother was fully aware he had no interest in the real estate business, nor in anything to do with the family legacy. So why would she do that.

"To my son, Maxwell, and his wife, Alyssa, I lave the total amount of twenty-five percent..."

"That's not right!?!" Max stood up, nearly knocking Alyssa out of her chair when he did. "You must have transposed the names. That can't be possible. She would never leave him a larger share of the estate than me! I've been running this family ever since Papa died, and it's my right!  He - - " Max screamed, pointing at Drake with hatred in his eyes, " - - has done nothing for this family and doesn't even want to be a part of it. He's not even a real man, for Christ's sake!"

Drake had heard enough. "Screw you, Maxie," he spewed, using the childhood nickname that Max hated so much. "You're right. I don't want any part of the family business.  Never have, never will.  But trust me when I say, I am more man than you will ever be! And maybe that's something Mama actually saw without ever saying. Maybe she realized I wasn't some yes-man that would do everything I was told, but that I actually knew how to stand up for himself."

"Stand up for yourself?!" Max's face was turning red, he was so furious. "You've never stood up for yourself a day in your life. You could never even tell you own family that you're - - "

"STOP IT!"

Max and Drake closed their mouths and looked at Alyssa, whose mascara was running from the tears streaming down her face. "Are you both really that stupid?" Max and Drake looked at one another and back at her. "I can't believe you are so caught up in whose dick is bigger that you missed the most important thing about the whole bequest."

"What are you talking about?" Max said, his voice somewhat calmer.

"Oh, my God!" Drake exclaimed, realization dawning.  "Max, she's right.  The Will said that the estate would go to her sons..."

"Yes, I know," Max said, clearly frustrated. "I heard.  I was right here when Quinley said it."

"Max, think about it," Drake said, grasping his brother's arms.  "I got fifth percent, you got twenty-five percent - - "

Max started to fume again. "So, what you want to rub it in?  You want to lord it over me now? For someone who claims he doesn't want - - "

"Max, shut up and listen," Alyssa cried, slapping his arm. "He has fifty. You have twenty-five. That's only seventy-five percent.  So, where is the remaining twenty-five percent?"

The color of Max's face drained. Realization settled in, and he sat back down, staring at Quinley. Alyssa leaned against him, crying into his shoulder, while Drake stood behind him.  Gregory remained silent in the background, hoping no one would remember he was there.  He definitely did not want to be a part of this.

Quinley cleared his throat.  "As I was saying.  Drake gets fifty percent, Maxwell gets twenty-five percent."  He looked up at the family, then went back to reading the Will.

"And the remaining twenty-five percent, I leave to my other son - - "