11:22 P.M. the LeGend Manor! Bartlett, Alabama!
"Evenin' Bankshot." Garrison Dhorne slyly grinned as he opened his laptop computer on the coffee table before him, cracking his knuckles as if ready to conquer the world. Maybe he was! "Time for you to make Daddy Dhorne some moolah. Sifting through his various e-mails he collected his thoughts on a variety of business options. His ventures were always well-played investing in only those that kept him in the loop of society. He called those loops Slipknots.
Garrison Ozymandias Dhorne would utilize them, slip in and make a fortune then untie the strings releasing them to flourish on their own two feet. It made for better bedfellows so to speak. Not only did he assist people in making their dreams come true, but he made valuable connections that stood ready to help him if he ever called upon their services at a later date. Slaves of a different color he would say. Not one of them regretted their decision to accept his terms. HE WAS THE MASTER! Not to mention a true God among men in stature and charisma.
His catalogue of assistance spread worldwide and each time he made new contacts the efforts made his life easier. Lucky for Dhorne he was fluent in Internet language translation thanks to a handy dandy program installed by his friend "Soiree", a drop dead gorgeous Nubian Goddess in Uganda. Using her services to deal with foreign soil all over the world he kept a unique communication with overseas clientele. Conveniently, the two of them would conduct business transactions that not even some of the largest conglomerates abroad even knew about. That part always made him smile. "Suckers!"
He spent the next fifty minutes replying and buying. Flopping and globe hopping. Selling and shelling. Severing and endeavoring. You get the idea. As his eyes grew weary and his vision began to blur, he pinched the bridge of his nose to decrease the pressure. The man was tired! Yet, life went on! Closing down Bankshot he jumped at a sneaky hand upon his shoulder.
"Can't sleep, Son?" Dhorne tilted back in his parlor chair to spy his father-in-law Gus LeGend in his pajamas and bath robe standing at the threshold of the room. He could have sworn he was closer by the pat. It must have been Nora alerting him of a snoop. Moving closer and patting his held newspaper on his son-in-law's upper arm he shuffled on by while Garrison watched his every move.
"Sneakin' up on a guy like me might get y'all a noogie on that there flop top."
Gus frowned while running his fingers through his hair, obvious enough to acknowledge it to be a toupee. "I thought I might try the Donald Trump style. I think it suits me. And I do so admire the man." How anyone could admire that loose cannon was anyone's guess.
Dhorne glared at the hair piece, "I dunno, Gus. I think I liked the Dee Snider volt jolt look that ya had the last time I caught a glimpse."
Gus shallowly grinned he had always found his son-in-law to be a hoot. Going to a wet bar in the corner of the room Gus began pouring a drink into a tumbler before peripherally looking at his heir and hair apparent. "Join me for a Stormy Daniels?" Jack Daniels with a hint of Kahlua over ice. A nightcap before bed helped the man rest better.
"I'll pass! She might shake Donny's storm windows, but not mine. I just don't get you billionaires. With all of those zeroes behind yer name I'd think you and ole Trumplestiltzkin could join Hair Club for Men. Plug it in. Plug it in." He winked at Gus reclining back and folding his extremely muscular arms, "Instead y'all shed the Shetland and wear it like yer ridin' for the Pony Express on a bald horse. I reckon the Indian's prolly respected ya for scalpin' Ole Paint."
Gus chuckled lightly, squinting at Oz. "You have such a way with words, My Boy. That coming from a redneck with a similar number of zeroes in your stable. I admire how you pride yourself on the lower- and middle-class thoughts when it comes to appearance. Did you buy that shirt at Target?"
Dhorne looked down at his polo. "Naaaa! Imported it right from that Chilean sweetshop my Buddy Guadalupe runs. Course, I pay his people twenty bucks an hour for their efforts. Sweetshop over Sweatshop any day. And they get all the band-aids they want for free."
Gus smirked knowing he meant free medical. "It's refreshing to know that my wisdom has impacted your ethics. Money is power. Yet, with power comes the wisdom to contain it."
Dhorne agreed with a pucker. Long before ever meeting Nora's father he was well invested. Even in the military he was a MASTER of strategy. On and off the field of battle. One was just bloodier than the other. Hands get messy either way. It was just knowing which water basin to cleanse them in. "As they say in Mexico... don't drink the water. The same goes with showering in it." He winked at Gus who bantered back with a wink of his own. "Dunno what I'd do without ya, Eddie Money."
Gus chuckled! "Nor I you, Johnny Cash."
They both understood each other very well. The buck always did stop here. Across from Garrison, Gus ventured to a sofa, propping his feet up on the end of the coffee table. Opening his nightly paper, he sat his Stormy Daniels aside and began reading. Dhorne resting back in his chair with a sigh simply eyed the headlines blocking Gus from view. Looking about made him smile. It was good to be home. At least the home he came to respect more so than even his birthplace in Tennessee. It was peaceful here. No hills and hollers filled with hillbilly shotgun weddings and possum tail socials.
Nor was it any Dhorne forsaken third world country full of machine gun fire and grenade serenade. No languages he didn't understand without a dictionary threatening him with violence. Maybe now he knew how John Rambo felt. Peace was agony. It gave you too much time to think about the past. Including just how bad Rambo 3, 4, and 5 were.
"The BartLetter's still in business? Old lady Grissom still typin' with one finger?"
Gus avoided eye contact hidden behind the paper. "Mona Grissom has lived here in Bartlett her entire 82 years. Even with acute arthritis she manages to gather the rumors and lay it to press. A conqueror if there ever was one. I donated a new printing press as her birthday present last year. Including a computer that does the typing for her as she speaks. Amazing how often we now find swear words in the articles. I did make the front page that week. The headline read; Secret Admirer leaves a trail of Ink."
Dhorne chuckled as Gus folded his paper over to the next page. "Your doctor friends have adapted well to their new home. Their story is on page four if interested. Life for them must be so different here than in India. I must say without question I don't understand why you would help such a man as David Hillary by taking on his wife and daughter after his untimely death. Noble I suppose! I'm certain they are devoted to you. As most of the female race seems to be."
Dhorne swallowed hard. Hearing that from his wife's father made him feel shallow. Yet, he knew Gus understood his lifestyle. And that, Nora had full knowledge of his way of thinking. Even if he did consider it rather immoral.
"Hillary might not have been the most trustworthy fella this town has ever suckled but he's always had my back in a pinch. I owe him my life, Gus. Besides, Irene and Colly were devastated when he died in that mine explosion. He and I made a pact years ago that I'd look after Irene if he looked out for Nora. Course, Nora-- " He lowered his chin looking down at his rippling forearms.
