Chapter 2

“Was that good for you, too?” Cameron asked me as I pulled my pants up and he ran to the john to wash his cock.

“Actually, better than Alois, that’s for sure, not to mention Mom, my sisters, and my cousins. You at least tried harder not to split me open. I enjoyed it at least a little, as did you. So, what sort of folks did you mean?” I wondered now.

“Best if you don’t know, so you can’t tell even if you’re asked, my friend. Trust me, though, it will be like hell’s fire for these folks of yours. They will rue the day that they started abusing you. In any case, remember, you don’t know, so you can’t tell, even if asked. That’s the main reason why plots fail, you know, conspiracies, that is, because too many people are told and someone spills the beans.

“In the meantime, it’s probably a good idea for you to kick back, take it easy for a bit, get to know some people, and have fun. In other words, go to that place in Kentucky, lay low, and remember that you’ve already sacrificed enough happiness and pleasure for one lifetime. You don’t owe anyone anymore than that. You’re just out of high school and you already have a financial empire worthy of respect and awe. Trust me on that much.

“Here’s the contact information. Ask for one of these people, except this guy. Larry Parsons. He’s dead,” Cameron showed me a list of contacts.

All of them had the last names of Parsons, De Groot, Acolyte, Sanders, Brown, or Derby. Clearly, someone had a sense of humor. Sanders, as in Colonel Sanders, right? Derby, as in Kentucky Derby. I could grasp that much. But Brown ... why Brown? For whatever reason, there were far fewer names than people. De Groot ... De Groot, what was that, Dutch? Acolyte made sense, as did Parsons, particularly with the religious context.

Some of these people looked shockingly young. Troy Acolyte, for instance, looked to be somewhere between fourteen and eighteen. So did Anne-Marie De Groot. So did Stephanie Parsons, Erin Parsons, Samantha Parsons, Bethany Parsons, and Felix Parsons, just to name a few of them. No ages were listed and only the faces were shown, along with the contact numbers.

One of them was clearly Jake’s mother, judging from their eye colors and a few other genetic markers, but just as clearly one of his devoted adherents. Hannah Parsons ... wow, damn, what a looker! Cameron must have seen the look on my face, because he shook his head on that one. I wondered what he meant, but he cleared it up by mouthing, “lesbian.” I wasn’t too slow to catch onto that little warning, of course.

“If she’s gay ... let me guess ... a late bloomer, married younger, thinking that she was straight or could make herself straight ... realized later that she was still Sapphic, something like that?” I thought aloud.

“Basically. I think that she lets her son and her brother fuck her, mostly to try to get pregnant again, but that’s the extent of it. There was a dude who tried to join them early with his younger sister. James and Jessica Adams. She ended up being welcomed with open arms. He ... well, let’s just say that this incident is what created the entity that I’ll employ on your belief.

“Brother Jake is a great man, but a great man sometimes has to be ruthless and he’s learned that fact the hard way. I mention this because the brother in question pressed his luck and tried to fuck Hannah. More to the point, he tried to rape Hannah. It didn’t end well for him, or rather whatever parts of him existed after his dismemberment ... which began with his private parts,” Cameron laughed wickedly at that detail.

“Well, then, if there’s nothing more, I’ll take my leave and prepare to contact Jake or someone in his group,” I grinned at the idea of joining a group like this, very much in line with my own views and attitude about society, at least from the sound of it.

And vengeance on my family especially sounded good.

“That’s almost it, but when you to Kentucky, make sure to look up Judge Elizabeth Maitland. Tell her that Cam sends his regards. With that, trust me, you will gain yet another friend in high places,” Cameron urged me.

“Very well, then ... I shall depart ... maybe see you around, maybe not,” I gave the parting shot as I took the necessary paperwork and documents from Cameron Edwards, Esquire, and started packing to leave.

It was time to move on, wasn’t it?