Chapter 1

Locust street was very much like every other small city upper middle class suburban neighborhood. Husbands awoke to drive or carpool to work while wives, for the most part, stayed home engaging in housework, ferrying the kids to school, soccer and play practice and participating in community or charity work — in short running the family households. Kids rode their bikes on summer days, played computer games and the older kids spent endless hours talking and texting their friends on outrageously expensive multifunctional cell phones or hanging out at the mall where they often were turned loose with their own credit or debit cards. They were indulged, pampered and catered to. In other words most of the kids, especially the teenagers, on Locust street were spoiled rotten by well meaning parents whose child rearing philosophy followed the long established adage that every generation should have it easier than the last. This had served well until the standard of living became the highest in the world and there was virtually nothing left to make easier. Their kids were given virtually anything they wanted, showered with materialism with nothing expected in return. The kids attitudes tended to be that they were entitled to everything both of a material and experiential nature and owed their family and society nothing — the American dream turned nightmare.

Perhaps, in fairness, it should be stated that many, maybe even most, families managed to raise their children with a decent set of values and the kids turned out reasonably normal — but the exceptions could be quite interesting.

Such it was on Locust street where three families struggled to maintain cohesion — or perhaps we should say the parents struggled while the kids did what they wanted and held their parents in mortal fear of drugs, pregnancy and STDs with a "whatever" attitude which struck fear in the hearts of parents too frightened to call their bluff for fear their children would no longer love them. What they didn't realize was that those kids had long since lost respect for adults with no backbone who set no standards or limits. Love had turned to toleration, and toleration only because it could still get them what they wanted.

"Joel would you bring me the dirty clothes from your room, please?" shouted Brandi Alden from the small laundry room. The twenty-eight year old was doing her best, but continued to struggle to make ends meet and maintain the home for her son and herself.

Her husband, Kyle, had died a year and a half ago. A mother at thirteen, Brandi had had to learn parenting as she went along. Her own parents had died when she was a child and she had been raised by an uncle and aunt. She and Kyle had met in junior high and although he was only a year older, he had seduced her with his suave routine and sweet talk. While his parents were away, the two had sneaked into his bedroom where Brandi lost her virginity and soon turned up pregnant.

There had been tremendous pressure on both of them to either have an abortion or give up the baby for adoption. but Brandi and Kyle would do neither. He dropped out of school and began working for a local construction company and they moved into a small apartment. Joel was born nine months later and although it was tough financially they had been happy.

Kyle was a hard worker and became a favorite of the owner of the company who had never married. Kyle quickly became foremen and four years later when the owner died, Kyle and Brandi were amazed to learn that, lacking any other family, the owner had left the business to Kyle.

Nine years of hard work had expanded the company into a quite profitable enterprise. Perhaps not what one would call wealthy, they were nevertheless able to move into an upscale neighborhood and began to enjoy the life of middle class suburbia.

Then on New Years day a year and a half ago Kyle had suddenly collapsed at a party. He was rushed to a nearby hospital but died within hours of a massive heart attack.

A widow at twenty-six with a small child to raise, Brandi had struggled. There was a small insurance policy but while Kyle had always intended to buy more insurance, he had simply never gotten around to it. Fortunately the house was paid for, but the policy barely paid for the funeral so Brandi was forced into going to work immediately. She had intended to acquire her GED but, like Kyle, had postponed it and now found herself desperately in need of work with no education to speak of and no experience. Perhaps the only thing she had going for her was her looks. Short at barely five feet, she was nevertheless a fetching sight. Her short cropped blonde hair framed a lovely face and deep blue eyes. She had been a cheerleader in school and she was still possessed of the wholesome and innocent look of the all American girl next door. Small but well shaped perky breasts still rode high on her chest while her trim waist, firm hips and shapely legs completed a body which although small, turned heads wherever she went.

The job pickings were slim, but she finally managed to find a position as a sales clerk in a local department store. A more than attractive woman, Brandi had soon unintentionally caught the eye of the married store manager who, when she rebuffed his advances promptly informed her that her job was on the line and if she wasn't prepared to give him what he wanted she would find herself on the street looking for another job. He also made threats regarding blackballing her so no one else would hire her. This was, of course, a bluff, but Brandi, in her inexperience, thought he might actually have such power. After a great deal of soul searching and after making fruitless inquiries about another position, she finally acquiesced. She had hated every minute of it but being aware of the consequences she had given him what he wanted.

The arrangement had ended when the wife found out, showed up on Brandi's doorstep and berated her openly in front of Joel. Brandi was transferred to another store across town and never saw the manager again, but perhaps the most damage to come out of the melee was her relationship with Joel. He may have been only thirteen at the time but he was of the generation which learned early. He saw the opportunity to gain power by not only reviling Brandi at the time, but continuing to remind her, when it was to his advantage, of what a slut she had made of herself.

He had quickly found that chipping away at his mother's self esteem coupled with the threat of withdrawing his love were powerful weapons for which she had no defense. Using one, the other, or both, he could control her and get virtually anything he wanted.

"Joel, Honey, did you hear me?"

"I'm busy," he shouted as he perused a porno website on his personal computer which Brandi had saved all summer to get him.

Climbing the stairs to his room she opened the door to the sights and sounds of a huge black man impaling a much smaller white girl.

"Joel Alden, turn that off this minute!"

"Why? It's nothing worse than what you'd see in a girlie magazine."

"It's a lot worse than..."

"And," he continued, "it's certainly no worse than what you did with that department store manager. Let's see, he was black too, wasn't he?"

She reddened, still defenseless against his manipulation and her own conscience.

"I... I... that was different. I..."

"Was it, Mother? How was it different? Did you do it doggy style with him or maybe he screwed you in your a..."

"Stop it! Please stop it! I've told you it was a mistake. Can't you ever forgive me?"

"What's to forgive? You wanted a little — no, wait a minute, you wanted a lot and you got it. Was he hung like I hear they are? Did you scream when he..."

"Please! Stop! I told you I had to — to keep my job."

"Sure, Mom. Sure you did," he said smiling contemptuously.

"I..." she stuttered, at a loss for words. "I..."

She grabbed up his dirty laundry which was strewn around the room and quickly made for the door.

"By the way, I'm going to need a high speed internet connection. This dial-up is so slow."

"Absolutely n..." she started turning back to face him. but his eyes bored into hers and she knew inwardly she would move heaven and earth to get it for him. It would be another expense which they could ill afford, but perhaps she could take a second job.

"I'll... look into it," she said starting to close the door after her.

"I want it now."

"Uh, tomorrow. I'll see about it tomorrow," she said weakly.

The door closed with a timid click.

Two doors down Locust street lived the Alverez family. Raul, the husband and father was a district manager for a large trucking company. He was not a large man, in fact stood only five feet seven and hardly what any woman would call handsome. He had spotted Elena while visiting in Mexico and married her immediately. Chico, now seventeen, was the product of Elena having been seduced as a teen. The lover had deserted her when she turned up pregnant. Raul had officially adopted the boy.

Two years later Trica, now fifteen, was born and she and Chico became the center of Elena's life. She would always be grateful to Raul for "rescuing" her and her son, but the forty-two year old had never really been in love with him. Although Elena performed admirably as both wife and mother, Raul sensed from the beginning that her affections were not absolute. His jealousy had begun to grow to the extent that he now looked on any man as a potential rival for her affections. She continually assured him she was faithful, as she indeed had been, but it did little good. More and more he insisted she stay at home where other men could not covet her. She now seldom went out except with Raul and even then he was sure she was making eyes at someone or otherwise encouraging other men's stares and affections.