Chapter 1

Trevor was, is, and always will be a prick. He's a lazy, sit-on-his-ass, welfare dependant piece of useless crap.

Trevor is also my younger brother.

Dad and Mom only had us two boys. Mom put her foot down after Trevor came squalling into the world.

She was having no more kids.

Period.

I took after Mom. Trevor took after dad. Mom was intelligent with book learning; dad was a shiftless bum who could barely sign his name. Mom could take whatever was in the pantry or fridge, and make a savoury and delicious meal out of it. Dad could barely understand how to plug the kettle in, and he ruined many elements by boiling the kettle dry.

He damn near burned the house down once trying to make himself a sandwich, the dumb fuck.

Trevor took after our father in many ways. Dad was a lazy loud-mouthed, good-for-nothing big-dreaming, come-to-nothing waste of space. He met Mom while working as a circus barker. He was twenty-five, Mom was nineteen. He wooed Mom with big dreams and bigger promises, and broke every damn one of them as soon as they were married. Mom had to work to support us, in between keeping house, and money was always tight. We grew up on the poor side of town, and dad was usually sitting around the house bitching and moaning about his bad luck more than he was out looking for work.

Over the years, he broke Mom down to his level, and almost beyond. Sometimes when he was drunk, he'd bellow at her, 'You think you're too good for me, don't ya? You think I'm nothing, a piece of shit under your fucking shoe, don't you, you fucking bitch whore!' Then he'd grin craftily, and say in a malicious tone, 'Well sweetheart, I saw you for who you were, back then, the moment I first laid eyes on you! The big princess, miss hoity-toity herself! I swore I was gonna get you and break you!'

Then he'd laugh, a sneering put-down kind of laugh that makes you want lash out and crush the fucker into slime, and Mom would go pale, and stare woodenly into space.

He didn't drink on a regular basis, back then, that much we could be thankful for I suppose, although when he brought his 'friends' home for a party, he was always acting the big shot, bragging up large, dragging us boys out of bed, no matter what the late, or early, hour, to show us off and make us fetch and carry for him and his creep friends, to show his buddies how well trained we were.

I would be the one, as the 'eldest son', who would be doing all the fetching and carrying, while his darling angel Trevor would be sitting on his lap, emulating the fat prick by sneering at me and cussing me out.

Mom stayed in her bedroom, refusing to be part of his carousing.

I hated him. Mom hated him. Mom's family loathed the ground he walked on. Trevor, however, thought dad was God's gift to humanity, and dad took advantage of that, always praising his darling favourite. We fought a lot, my brother and I. If I whupped Trevor's ass, he would run to his poppa, and I would get a whipping for picking on him. Trevor picked a lot of fights with me growing up.

Trevor emulated dad, right down to his filthy habits, never, or hardly ever, bathing, running off at the mouth with profanity, and giving Mom and me a hard time, knowing he had his father's back-up. He could do no wrong in dad's eyes, and the little bastard knew it.

As we grew up, Mom would tell me to never be like my father. She wanted me to go to school, get good grades, and to make something out my life. She would grip me by the shoulders, her nails digging into my skin sometimes making me bleed, and looking desperately into my eyes, making me promise, making me swear, that I would never, never, be like my loser of a father.

(Why would a woman stay with a 'man' like that? I never figured that out. Still haven't.)

So, after I graduated, I found a job in construction. There was a building boom on at that time, business was good, and there were more job vacancies than there were people to fill them. I'd get up at the crack of dawn; I'd work hard all day, sometimes on the weekends if there was overtime or a deadline that was due, saving my money and doing what I could to make Mom's life a little easier.

Dad and his 'boy' Trevor gave me shit about that.

'Momma's boy' was the nicest thing those two pricks could say about me, no matter who was in the house, or near us at the time.

Trevor? He didn't know what working was. Like dad, he'd sit around the house all day, drinking beer with the old man, and spouting huge amounts of bullshit. Dad began drinking full-time around about the time when Trevor had turned ten. Mom hit the roof about it, of course, but dad didn't listen, and would yell and threaten to 'shut her up' if she kept talking about it. Mom knew he'd do it too, so she kept silent after a while.

Trevor drunk was way worse than Trevor sober.

He was a malicious little cunt.

Then Trevor got a dose of reality the day that dad died. I was twenty-seven, Trevor was twenty-four. The old bastard keeled over with a heart attack one day at home when I was at work, which stopped my brother cold in his boots. Trevor's world almost collapsed at that point.

Mom was a wreck, even though she was secretly glad he was no longer around to make her life a misery. Trevor moved out, not long after the funeral. (I was in my own place by this time). I heard on the grapevine that Mom had finally had a belly-full of him, and threw him out. She scrubbed that place clean non-stop, top to bottom, for a month.

He even seemed to clean up his life. He found a job that paid minimal wage, went to work every day, and we, Mom and I, not to mention the rest of our family and those who knew him, thought that maybe, just maybe, he was on the road to become a real man, finally.

Yeah. And pigs flew from the rooftops.

Trevor found, and married, a woman as close to Mom as he could find, in looks at least. But, this woman was his soul mate, no better than he was.

Serena, her name was. Fat, lazy, and just as useless as her husband. There were parties, drinking, smoking weed, and both of them living on welfare when he was fired for not coming in to work in a regular fashion.

Like she cared.

He went through one job after another, until folks would turn him away before he even opened his mouth.

He and Serena, his wife, were incorrigibles, the type of people that the welfare knew would never amount to much, who would never find regular work, much less actually got to work on time if they had the work to go to, which were best paid off and forgotten.

Then his wife got pregnant, and as they do, his daughter Selene was born nine months later. She was already a month old before Mom and I found out about her. My brother wasn't sober long enough to remember to let Mom know she had a grandchild.

When Mom and I went around to their house to visit and to see the baby, we were shocked and dismayed at the sight we beheld. There were rusted and stripped car bodies on the front and back lawns. There was trash of every description everywhere, inside and out. Several windows on the house were broken, and being near winter, the curtains floated and waved in the chilly air.

'Oh, no!' Mom moaned when she saw this. 'My poor grandchild!' That was all she could say, over and over again until we got to the front door. It was a few long minutes before I could get her to stop crying long enough to get inside the front door.

The house stunk to high heaven. There were dirty diapers and mouldy food and trash all over the place. Flies crawled over and through everything. The smell of stale beer, and stale marijuana and cigarette fumes pervaded the air we had to breathe. It was hell, pure and simple, having to stand there and see and smell the cesspit that poor child had to grow up in.

I could have killed that mangy bastard, brother or no. Even now, my blood pressure goes up thinking back to that day.

Then Trevor was standing before us. He was a mess. He had a paunch that sagged over his belt, there were fresh wet urine spots on the front of his dirty jeans. My God, I breathed silently, wanting to puke. He was the spitting image of his father He was unshaven, unwashed, and his eyes were bloodshot from drinking and smoking weed. He actually stood there toking on a joint totally unashamedly. Serena was not there, thankfully. But Mom and I could hear the baby crying down in a bedroom, and she sounded really distressed.

Mom pushed past her slob of a son, and marched into the bedroom, which just happened to be one with a smashed window. Mom appeared with the baby, and said, 'Trevor! Where are the fresh diapers? This baby needs changing, immediately! And she looks like she needs bathing and feeding, too!' She looked totally pissed off, and said, 'My god! She's burning up! Come on, boy, snap out of it!'

My brother looked at Mom, then at the baby like he was looking at a cockroach, and sneered, 'Serena's gone to the store to get some more formula. Who the fuck cares, anyway? Fucking noisy fucking thing! I told that bitch to use the fucking pill!'

He cackled, and swaggered towards the back door, saying to Mom, who looked as shocked and angry as I felt, 'Bitch'll be back soon. Make yourselves to home!'

He roared with laughter, and stepped out onto his back porch, leaving us standing there in absolute shock. He just didn't give a damn, the soulless fucker. Mom and I traded glances. The door slammed shut as the breeze caught it. Loose filthy dishes on the kitchen counter rattled, threatening to slip off the bench onto the floor. I went to follow him, seeing red, my fists bunched, but my mother grabbed my arm and told me to stay. I wanted to pound that son of a bitch, but the face of that sweet child drew me, and together Mom and I stood there, cleaning the baby up and wrapping her up warm and cosy.

Serena turned up not long after that, stoned as all get out. She thumped her shoulder into the door jamb trying to get past it. She stood there looking dumbly at us before her brain kicked in and she recognised us as her brother- and mother-in-law. She threw a shopping bag that had formula and a packet of diapers at me, which I caught, and shouldered past us as she headed for the back door. Serena yanked it open, and a sharp acrid smell wafted in. The woman's face went hard, and she yelled, 'Trevor, you fucking asshole! You better not be smoking my stash, you fucking cunt! You are, I'll fucking kill you!'

Without waiting for an answer, she stepped out and vanished around the door. Mom and I stood there, literally holding the baby. We were just too shocked to say a word. Mom's eyes narrowed, and she snarled, 'Come on, son, we're leaving!' Then holding the baby tightly, she stomped out of the front door and headed for the car.

I was right behind her, my hands still holding the shopping bag. I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there.

It took Trevor and Serena a full two and a half days before they came to fetch the child. I was at work, and Mom was at home all alone, when Trevor and Serena turned up drunk and belligerent. They blustered and threw their weight around, trying to get Mom to hand the baby over. But after having had to live with Trevor's father for all those years, she stood her ground and refused to back down.

Things might have gotten out of control, but a neighbour, hearing the yelling and screaming, called the police. Arguments flew back and forth, with the inevitable outcome that the baby stayed, and my brother and his wife left, empty-handed.

Child Services were called in, and Mom was awarded custody. Being a baby, Selene didn't need much. Feeding, changing, and sleeping. That was the sum total, with lots of loving and cuddling thrown in. Mom revelled in raising a girl for a change. She was bound and determined that Selene would never know who her parents were, not if she could help it.

But, sadly, such things were not to be. Mom passed over in her sleep one night. A neighbour dropped in by chance one day, for a friendly visit, to find Mom sitting up in bed with the baby, now a year old, asleep in her arms. Mom was well and truly cold.

Would you believe that Welfare gave Selene back to her parents? Fucking assholes! They knew what those losers were like, but they just said that a child should be with her own parents. When I found out about it, I went ballistic, almost getting arrested in my rage at this travesty of justice. I was told in no uncertain terms, by Welfare and Trevor, in no uncertain terms, to go away and mind my own business.

By this time, I'd worked my way up in the construction firm, making manager. Then, by chance, I saw an advert in the paper for a small construction firm that was selling up. I knew the guy who owned it, and placed a call. I could afford the asking price, and so, before the month was out, I was the proud owner of my own business.

I worked hard for the next few years, building a struggling business up to the point where we had building contracts lined up for the next five years. My time was spent going over plans, ordering timber, paying wages, hundreds of little details that made the day gone before I knew it.

Months would go by where I didn't think about Trevor and his 'family'. That would only piss me off, so I shoved all thoughts of him aside and got on with my own life.

I was sitting in my office one day, sorting through plans, invoices, quotes and other assorted paperwork that were giving me a monumental fucking headache, when I heard a metallic bang, the sound of rattling, and a tired wheeze. I looked out my window to see an old battered Ford pickup sitting in my parking area. An obese man and a skinny looking child got out. The fat shit slammed the door, and almost fell on his wide and flabby ass as he missed the curb and stumbled.

Ah, fuck, no, I swore silently.

Trevor!

'What the fuck does he want?' I thought angrily. The answer came to me a moment later. Of course! He needed money, there was no other explanation. I'd never see him, otherwise. But the lard-ass was going to be out of luck, I swore to myself. He wasn't going to see one thin dime from me. As far as I was concerned, he could go fuck himself, if he could only find his dick first!

He didn't even bother knocking on the door, he just marched in, excuse me, he waddled in, and plopped himself down in one of my chairs. I eyed it askance, expecting it to explode underneath him. The skinny girl behind him saw the look on my face, and she smirked, and with her expressions and her hands, she mimed 'ka-bloom!'

I tried not to laugh, and she saw that, too, giving me a conspiratorial wink and a grin.

The kid put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh as the fat man shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable as he wedged himself into it. Then he gave up, and reclining back in the protesting chair, he raised his hand, pointed his finger at the ceiling, and said, 'Selene. Sit. Now.' Then he pointed to a chair to his right, without looking at either her or the chair. His piggy eyes were fastened to mine the entire time.

The kid sat where he pointed, alternately looking at him, and then at me. She was in no way surprised or alarmed, and I had the impression that this kind of thing happened a lot.

'Selene, this is your uncle, Robert. Robert, meet Selene, my daughter'.

The kid nodded, as an equal, not as a child to an adult.

I reached into my shirt pocket, and pressed a button.

Trevor got straight to the point.

'I need money, brother mine, ' he wheezed. 'I got me a business proposition for ya. Listen real careful, this is a one-time offer.'

He grinned. 'The 'offer of a lifetime, ' you might say!'

'I doubt you got anything that would interest me, Trevor, ' I said, my voice level. Neither of us broke eye contact. We sat there like two dogs sizing the other one up. He just didn't realise who the Alpha in the room was.

'You ain't heard it all yet, asshole, ' he said, smirking. 'Don't jump to conclusions before ya hear the details!'

'Say what you got to say, then fuck off, ' I said in a bored tone. 'I got better things to do with my time than shoot the shit with you.'

My brother snarled, his sweating greasy face red with anger.

'Fucking mamma's boy!' he sneered. 'Spoiled rotten by that bitch that raised you, pity that she didn't teach you no fucking manners!'

Oh, yeah, he was Daddy's Boy, alright.

His face went dead-pan, his eyes flat and mean, and he said, 'Someone ought to do that, teach you some manners.'

'Anytime you're ready, you fat fuck!' I said, sliding my chair back, my body tense and my fists bunched.

He backed off, or seemed to, and then smiling, friendly-like, he said, 'Alright, no need to go off the deep end, Robert. I'll say my piece, we'll do some business, and then I'll go.'

I slid my chair back under the desk, and putting my elbows on the desk, and steepling my fingers, I said, 'Okay, Trevor, what have you got that's so important to offer me? What's worth my time so much that you came to see me?'

He inclined his head at Selene, his daughter, and said, 'Her!'

It took me a moment to get over my surprise, and Trevor saw the glance I darted at the girl.

'What the fuck, Trevor?' I growled.

The girl just gave me a half-smile, watching me.

He grinned, and said, 'That's right, brother mine. The girl. I know you ain't married, you don't have a girlfriend, not one that counts, anyway.'