Chapter 1

My son, B.E., and I were waiting near the women’s prison in Huntsville Texas. We were watching, with grim satisfaction, to see who would come to pick Sue Marie up. After what she and my shitstain brother put us through, we sure as hell were not going to do it.

At 17 my son stands at 5’11”, and 180 pounds and he’s still growing. He has my golden-brown eyes and his hair is growing darker than the white-blonde he had as a baby. These days B.E. works in computer security, freelance. My own hair is darker, more red than gold, thanks to my Scott-Irish lineage. I’m 6’2” and 210 pounds with less muscle than I used to have when I was in the military. I worked installing upgrading the outdated security systems and before that had done a stint as an M.P. The experience gave me the background to find work. These days I’m still installing security systems for a large company, but in my spare time I earn a little extra guiding would-be fishermen and hunters through the bayous of Louisiana.

As for Sue Marie, my wife, she is 5’4”, has light brown hair, and very is overweight, but curvy. She works as an accounts manager for a large hospital in Houston. Makes good money at it too.

You’d never know Dwayne was my brother. It’s possible he isn’t since he’s 5’8”, dark brown hair and hazel eyes and I don’t see anything of my father in him. He’s a lean 150 pounds of arrogance and conceit, and so so proud of his 3rd degree black belt. Pity he learned all the moves and none of the philosophy. When he’s working, he surveys street layouts for new subdivisions.

It was eight years ago B.E. and I skipped town because our home life went overnight from bad to violent. That was when my younger brother came to stay with us after his fourth divorce and loss of his most recent his job. My mistake. My big, big mistake.

It was Sue Marie talked me into letting him stay, “He’s family,” she said, knowing full well that we had a history after he cleaned out my checking account. Still, she talked me into do it. I loved and trusted her, didn’t I?

I may have been naive as I helped him bring his suitcases and tried to lay down the conditions of his stay. “Don’t think you can just move in here and freeload like you did last time,” I warned him, “I expect you to get your shit together, get a job, and get yourself a place of your own.”

Dwayne smiled at me, “I know big brother. Thanks for putting me up for a bit. I’ll get together, don’t worry.” In retrospect he was showing far too many teeth.

I replied, “If you try to screw me this time, I’ll put you on the street so fast you won’t know what hit you!” I’m usually a quiet sort, but I’m told I can look intimidating just by standing there.

Sue Marie spoke up, “That is not how you should treat your brother.” She said smiling, always being the “Queen Bee in Charge”. Maybe there were too many teeth there too. Hindsight, 20/20 as always.

“It’s o.k. He has his reasons.” Dwayne replied. I wish I were better at reading faces.

He found a good job with a local gas company in three weeks. I thought to give him another month to save up some cash and then tell him it was time he found his own place. I was actually proud of him thinking he was finally taking responsibility for his life, instead of blaming everyone around him for his “bad luck”.

Soon after it started to get hectic at work, I was working 12 to 14 hour days setting up a massive security system for one of our biggest customers. My side hustle as a hunting guide melted away to nothing because of the inhuman hours I had to work. I’d get home exhausted and would find the kitchen still filthy from dinner—and lunch and breakfast too. I didn’t think much about it. Sue Marie and I both worked. B.E. was in school, so all three of us split the chores around the house. Then Dwayne was injured at work when the fool managed to breach a natural gas line, resulting in an explosion. He was out until his burns healed and the pipeline was repaired. The lucky bastard had worker’s compensation and somehow eluded getting fired.

After four grueling month it finally slowed down at work and the hours eased back to the normal 40 hour weeks with weekends off. I would have breathed a sigh of relief, but somewhere in the back of my brain a warning signal was going off.

It didn’t all happen at once. In fact it took almost a month to recover from the four-month marathon. As my overworked mind cleared I started noticing that I was being ignored during conversation and not being consulted about decisions. In fact, only B.E. talked to me at all. Unless it was a snide remark neither my wife nor my brother spoke to me except to tell me something I had to do, or fix, or buy. I found myself being treated like a servant. That hindbrain alarm was bleating much louder now.

I had the run of the place at work and nobody thought a thing of it when I started bringing home audio visual remote cameras and sound receivers from the warehouse. The bosses thought it was good practice to encourage us to use the equipment and, if we liked it we could buy it for an outstanding discount. I came home with top-of-the-line stuff and surreptitiously placed the cameras all around the house. The remote receiver was hidden in the garage.

It came to a head when I decideded I wanted to get a beer. Sue Marie barely glanced up from the tv to tell me to get to get Dwayne one as well. I gave it to him and just as I sat down she added, “Make me a sandwich.” No ‘would you?’ or ‘Please’. But I got up again. When I brought it to her, “Why didn’t you cut it in half for me?” I liked neither the tone nor the look but I went back to the kitchen and cut it in half, and handed it to her.

“Look at that!” her voice was all derision, “He can’t even cut it in half right. Everyone knows you cut a sandwitht diagonally.” Dwaye laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever hears. They both looked at me. The air in the room grew cold.

Sue Marie sighed dramatically, “He can’t do anything right, He’s useless.” More laughter.

Something in my brain gave way. “Give me the sandwich.” I said, much too calmly. The glare she shot at me was tinged with uncertainty.

After viewing a couple day’s worth of clandestine recordings, I had more than enough of this. “I said, give me the goddamned sandwich!” I snatched the plate from her hand, and it together with the sandwich flew out the front door. Both of they stared saucer-eyed at me.

“Make your own damn sandwich!”

B.E was just coming back from a bike ride as I left the house. Sadly, over the past weeks I had not been able to spend much time with him.

“Hey kid, want to ride with me?”

“Sure Dad. Where to?”

“I don’t know, down the road.”

“Works for me, Dad. I really don’t like hanging around the house when you are not there.”

“Why?” Belatedly I recalled that he had not been meeting my eyes for quite a while. He had been unnaturally quiet lately and spent most of his time in his room with the door closed.

He paused and finally blurted, “Mom and Uncle Dwayne told me to keep my mouth shut or I’d regret it.”

I had only thought I was angry before. Now I was seeing red and four our safety had to pull into a parking lot. No one, NO ONE screws with my son!

“Dad! Dad, you are shaking! Damn, I should never have said anything”

“B.E., I’m not mad at YOU. It’s going to be okay, but I think you and I are headed for a divorce.” I gave him the abbreviated history of how I found out what they have been doing behind my back.”