Breaing the Family

Tony Clark stepped off of the helicopter and ducked down to run to the elevator that would take him to the higher deck of the oilrig. He didn't like taking the helicopter; it made him nervous, but for whatever reason, Benoit had requested him out there A.S.A.P. so he took the offered helicopter instead of the boat.

Jack Cuccione, the Project Manager waved him over from the deck and Tony made sure to be clear of the blades before standing and walking out to the older man.

"You worked at Eagan, right?" Jack yelled over the 'whup whup whup' of the helicopter blades.

"Yeah, I was there for two and a half years," Tony yelled back just sat the helicopter lifted off with the roughnecks and mud loggers that had finished their shift.

"And they made you take certification, right?" Jack asked his voice a little lower now.

"Yeah, on all their equipment, never know when you'd have to show a customer how to use it," Tony said, wondering where this was going.

"Glen got popped this morning; they did a random screen and he tested positive," Jack said. "So I can either pay Rodney overtime, or put your ass on the crane."

"But I'm not cleared," Tony said.

"Leave that to me," Jack said.

"Fine, thirty eight an hour," Tony countered.

"What? Get the fuck out of here, Clark," Jack bellowed.

"Fine, pay Rodney double time and a half," Tony shrugged. "That's what? One hundred and five an hour?"

Jack was pissed; Tony was obviously a hell of a lot smarter than any of the other roughnecks, the mainly unskilled laborers on the offshore oil platform. Thirty-eight an hour was double his normal salary, but was definitely less than he would have to pay Rodney. Jack clenched his jaw, and then finally nodded his head 'yes' and Tony went to stash his gear and get ready for the fourteen days he'd be on the offshore rig.

****

When Tony's wife had thrown him out of their home three years ago, Tony had entertained the idea of moving to Seattle, Washington; he had a college buddy living and working up there. His father had stilled that idea by asking very simply, "What are you running for?" Benoit Exploration in Lafayette, Louisiana had given him a job working fourteen on and seven off.

At sixteen an hour to start and a guaranteed forty hours work week, he could make a decent living. Rent in Lafayette was fairly inexpensive and it was close enough to Houston so he could visit his parents when the mood struck. There was a nineteen year old girl in the complex that was only too eager to make twenty five bucks by sucking off whoever wanted sucking off, so he had that need taken care of and didn't have to worry about getting her pregnant or having her fall in love with him; she was servicing at least four other guys in the complex that he knew of.

Tony worked hard, didn't join in the immature and often dangerous hidings of the other roughnecks and very quickly received raises and accolades from his superiors. He kept to himself, as much as one could keep to oneself in such a cramped environment, did his job, and did it well.

Jack watched as Tony operated the crane, nodded approval and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He hit a pre-set number. "Fuck Glen," Jack barked into the cell phone. "He's been popped twice and we've already sent him to rehab once, cut him loose."

****

Tony smiled as he rode the boat to shore; he preferred the boat. You could look across the water of the Gulf of Mexico and let your mind just go blank. He took his long brown hair out of the ponytail and dropped the rubber band into his shirt pocket.

"You Tony Clark isn't you?" a young man asked.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, but didn't look at him.

"Used to be married to Anna, right? Anna Scanduro?" the man went on.

"Used to be, about three years ago," Tony agreed and squinted at a dorsal fin following the boat. Most people admired sharks, thought they were elegant, graceful, fearsome creatures. The majority of them were nothing but garbage eaters, preferring to scavenge than to hunt.

"Yeah, what a bitch," the young man went on.

"She's got problems," Tony shrugged.

"I mean, I used to date her, you know, like when we was in high school and shit," the young man continued.

"Oh yeah?" Tony asked, but wasn't listening.

Anna Scanduro had been an absolutely lovely young nineteen year old when he first laid eyes on her. She was just over five feet tall, with long honey blonde hair and a fully developed thirty-two D chest and thirty inch hips. A velvety soft fluff of light brown hair, proof that the hair on her head was natural, covered her tight pussy. Her pixie face often sported a mischievous little smile.

Anna had followed the handsome Tony to his motel room and given him her virginity; she could blame the whiskey for the lapse in reasoning. There was nothing she could blame her pregnancy on, though, and Tony did the right thing and married her. Her family was less than supportive and did everything in their power to end the quick marriage. The death of his infant daughter (he often thought of Lucille as he stared out over the sea, wondering what it was like in heaven and if he would see her when he got there) had been more than their marriage could endure. It was truly over, though, when she came home after being gone for nearly a week with semen dried to her thighs and pubic hair and teeth marks on her massive breasts.

"Yeah, her fucking old man's a prick," the young man went on.

Louisiana, being a 'No-Fault' state, granted the divorce and equal rights to any of the marital assets, even if Dan Scanduro had the divorce filed in DeGarde, rather than Lake Charles. Tony did not look at the sullen Dan, the smirking Anna, or the nervous young man she clung to, just signed the papers and left. A few weeks later, an unemotional, official packet of papers let him know that the divorce was final.

"Yeah, he is, but that's okay, I don't have to live with him," Tony agreed and looked over at the man for the first time. He was a new roughneck, hired a few days before Tony took the job as crane operator.

"Al. Al Prejean," the man offered and stuck out his hand.

"Tony, but you already know that," Tony said and they lapsed into silence.

****

The two formed a friendship; they worked the same shift, for the same company and were often on the same rigs together. On shore, Tony did not socialize much. Al did drag Tony out every now and then, forcing Tony to play pool at Pete's, eat massive shrimp po-boys at Julian's on University Avenue, or just hang out and listen to music.

On shore and off, Tony was frugal. He wasn't cheap or stingy, but he also was not flagrant or foolish with his money and safe every penny he could. He had a plan in mind and that plan would take some money. And some luck.

Al was grateful to learn from Tony. Tony taught the younger man everything he knew about heavy equipment. Two years later Jack scowled and muttered under his breath, but put Al in charge of the crane as Tony finished out his last shift.

****

Roberta, the apartment hooker let a tear slides down her face as she sucked him off for the last time. Tony was a real nice guy; he didn't sneer at her, or worse yet, act like he didn't know her when he ran into her at the mailboxes or the swimming pool.

"No, this one's free, for old times sake" she said then burst into sobs and ran from his apartment.

Tony dug through the packed boxes until he found the envelopes and stuck two one hundred dollar bills into it and wrote out her address. Three days later, Roberta burst into tears again; she knew whom the money was from.

****

Robert Scanduro was a little amused at the young man that wanted to buy the property right across from Abdul's Department Store, the trendy store in DeGarde, Louisiana. A pair of jeans from Abdul's was usually ninety bucks and their men's suits started at four hundred dollars. The eager young man was buying two acres and planning on putting a greasy spoon diner. The clientele that frequented Abdul's wouldn't eat at a greasy spoon, and the people that would eat at a greasy spoon wouldn't come near Abdul's.

"Location, location, location," Robert thought as he and the young man agreed on a price.

The price of the land itself wasn't very high; Robert knew that the real profits would come in from Dan Scanduro's construction bidding on and getting the project, and once the young man realized he'd made a bad purchase, Danny Scanduro would buy it up at a much reduced price and either lease it out or manage it himself.

Anthony Gimmeli Junior, AG, DeGarde's new mayor, promised to delay or slow downs the permits for new construction if the young man did not give the job to Dan Scanduro. Dan was excited about the prospects; knocking out a diner would take him less than a month, but he could drag the construction out for nearly three months. Business in DeGarde had been slow the last few months. He was a little surprised when he wasn't contacted at all to bid on the project; heavy equipment simply began to arrive.

"I don't know what happened,' AG said when Robert called him.

(The stranger had gone to Baton Rouge to file the permits, thus bypassing St. Elizabeth parish courthouse.)

"That aunt a fucking diner," Dan barked to Robert when the crane was scooping out huge chunks of earth.

"It's a fucking parking lot!" Danny screamed when he managed to find the plans that the young man had submitted to the Baton Rouge office.

Danny owned the parking lot next to Abdul's and charged them a hefty price for using his lot. Anthony Gimmeli Senior had zoned the street in front of Abdul's as 'No Parking/Loading Zone,' so if Abdul's wanted customers, they had to pay Danny.

The five shops next to Abdul's also had to pay Danny an exorbitant amount, but getting the spillover clientele of Abdul's made it almost worth it. So when Tony Clark came to them and offered to sell them the rights to a new parking deck, Abdul's and the five shops readily agreed.

John Clark and his older brother had a good laugh at the consternation of the Scanduro clan having their little monopoly so easily broken.

****

Glen Fontenot and Pedro Florez, two Meth addicts looked around furtively, and both jumped slightly when the motion detector lights burst into life. There was no traffic, though, so they continued on to their task. They liberally doused the two backhoes, the front-end loader, and the crane with the diesel fuel, and made sure that the fuel tanks were open, and then shoved greasy rags down the openings.

The resulting explosions and flames could be felt, heard and seen for miles around, but because of the liberal dousing the equipment had received, there was little the volunteer fire department could do but make sure that Abdul's and the other shops didn't go up in flames as well. Four of the five shops would have to have their windows replaced and Abdul's fancy revolving door would have to be sent to Ohio for extensive repairs.

Craig Eagan laughed all the way to the bank; Tony Clark had anticipated this and had requested the oldest equipment, the stuff that Craig was getting ready to dismantle for scraps. The insurance company paid the claim, especially when Craig pointed out that the entire sabotage had been captured on film and both Glen and Pedro were in custody and were telling a fantastic tale about Dan Scanduro hiring them to commit the crime. ****

Barbara Scanduro was sickened, but not surprised when the US Marshals placed her husband under arrest. Pedro was still in University Medical Center in Lafayette, recovering from the extensive burns he'd received when he couldn't outrun the fireball from the exploding front-end loader. Glen Fontenot cooled his heels in DeGarde's Police Office/Jail, four cells down from Dan Scanduro.

****

"Package for you," the girl said and smiled as Robert Scanduro signed for it. She stood, waiting, until he fished out a couple of bucks, then did a quick little bob with her head and left Scanduro Realtors. Robert watched her young tight ass as she got into a nondescript white van and drove off. He then opened the package.

He vomited heartily into the wastebasket when he saw the first photograph. His lovely wife was on her hands and knees, a cock in either end. He felt faint as he flipped to the next photograph and saw another cock join in, Diane's mouth stretching wide to accommodate sucking two cocks at the same time. Photograph after photograph showed his wife servicing multiple men. The last photograph showed the end result; sperm liberally coated her face, belly, thighs, and her dark pubic hair. He couldn't help the small smirk that crept to his lips; the few gray hairs were visible in the tuft of dark pubic hair.

A simple note fluttered to the floor that made his blood run cold.

"Almost makes you wonder if Bobby is really yours, doesn't it?"

Every now and then he did look at his eleven year old son and wonder where the light brown hair came from. Both he and Diane had the dark, almost black hair of their Italian heritage. He numbly fed the photographs to the office shredder, then gathered the stiff paper scraps and shoved them into a manila envelope. That was fed through the shredder as well. The shredded papers were gathered into a small garbage bag and thrown into a dumpster behind Radcliffe's restaurant.

Robert then drove home and let himself in. Diane looked up; was that a little guilt he spied in her eyes, even as she pasted a smile on her lips? She was a little surprised to see him; it was only three o'clock in the afternoon.

The first bullet hit her in her unfaithful lips. The second slug slammed into her lying heart. The third and fourth bullets took care of her traitorous crotch and adulterous brain.

When Bobby came in from playing football in the empty lot two blocks over, he stood in shock as his parent's body lay on the kitchen floor. His mother had multiple gunshot wounds; his father had one self-inflicted gunshot wound to the temple.

****

Dan Scanduro was transported to University Medical Center, suffering from a mild heart attack. A drunken and wobbling Anna demanded more of her mother's attention than Dan did, crying and wailing hysterically.

****

Cindy Scanduro tried to make Bobby feel welcome, tried to make her nephew feel loved, told him over and over again that if he wanted or needed to talk, she and Alicia were right there for him. The child was nearly catatonic, staring through unseeing eyes.

****

The new Investments Counselor was doing a hell of a job; in just two months, he'd managed to increase Francis Gimmeli's personal accounts by thirty percent. Paul Gimmeli had, at first, resented the acquisition of the slightly older man, but his own accounts had likewise swelled, a fact that made his wife very happy. And anything that made Nellie happy, made Paul happy.

Neither Francis nor Paul thought anything of reducing their share of stock in DeGarde National Bank when Stan Bertrand approached them with the idea of investing in Clark International. Again, their own coffers swelled and they readily agreed to transfer more of their personal stock into Clark International.

****

Francis and Paul stood together, father and son, greeting the board members. The lack of smiles from the normally affable group puzzled Francis; he was golf buddies with at least five of the eight men, and indulged himself in a little harmless flirtation with the one woman on the board that was present today. Kathy Villeaux, the Vice President of DeGarde National Bank was out on maternity leave. Finally, Francis called the meeting to order and the old business was dispensed with quickly.

"Now, if there is no new business," Francis intoned, hoping to get out of the meeting quickly; it had been an extremely uncomfortable and nearly silent meeting.

"There is a matter of new business," Melinda St. Romaine spoke up. "Why are we under investigation from the Federal Trade Commission and why is the IRS preparing to do an audit of our assets?"

"Yes, Francis, could you address those matters individually?" Brian Johnson, his oldest and dearest friend coldly asked.

Paul and Francis looked at each other, baffled. Francis regained his composure and buzzed Stan's office. There was no response. He then buzzed Cheryl Melancon's office. She was the Accounts Manager, recommended by Stan himself. Again, there was no answer. Finally (he could feel the sweat begin to trickle down his back, despite the cold air conditioning) he buzzed his Administrative Assistant.

"Terri, have you seen either Stan or Cheryl?" he asked, wincing as his voice cracked, showing his nervousness.

"Uh, yes, yes sir," Terri answered. "They both put their resignations on your desk this morning, sir."

Francis felt a cold sweat break out all over his body. It had been so easy for Stan and Cheryl to bury him and his son. He did not even object when the board voted, nine to two, to request his resignation. Paul tried to object bitterly when the board then appointed Tony Clark, the largest shareholder in DeGarde National Bank as the new CEO and President of DeGarde National Bank. Paul had expected the appointment to go to him upon his father's retirement.

"Please have your offices cleared out by five o'clock, Brian Johnson requested in a tone of voice that let both father and son know it was not a request.

"Come on, son," Francis tiredly said over his son's sputtering objections.

****

"So, what are you going to do?" Nellie asked Paul as she studiously applied her makeup. She would not leave the house unless she was perfect.

"Right now, there isn't much I can do; my assets are frozen until after the IRS finishes with their audit, and I'm sure I'll have to pay taxes on any capital gains, even if I did lose it all in..." he said dejectedly.

"Frozen?" she asked, eyes wide. "Even my credit cards?"

"Yes, Nellie, even you're fucking credit cards," Paul snapped. "Heaven forbid you miss a day of shopping for shit you don't need."

"She coldly finished applying her makeup, then stood up and faced her husband. She let the robe slip from her shoulders, baring her perfect thirty-six D breasts (he'd paid for them) and her diamond encrusted navel ring, along with her smoothly shaved crotch (he couldn't tell if her flawless light blonde hair was real or from a bottle) to his gaze. She seductively walked up to him and embraced him. She brought her lips close to his ear as she rubbed her body against his.

"When you asked me to marry you, I told you point blank that I was only marrying you for your money," she husked into his ear. "I told you, as long as you're bringing home the bacon, I'd make you one happy man, didn't I?"

"You God damned heartless cold fucking bitch," he snarled.

"Mm hmm," she agreed and walked to the dresser and began to pull out a pair of thong panties. "That's me. Cold and Heartless."

She dressed slowly, making sure to display her body and its supple and desirable shape as she did so.

"I've never made any secret of who and what I am, and what I expect from you," she finally said. "And if you can't give me what I want, I'll just have to find a man who can.

****

Paul sat glumly in the DeGarde Police Station/Jail. Nellie lay in the hospital bed, happily stoned from the pain medication. Her broken nose and smashed cheekbone would be fixed up to perfection, and Paul Gimmeli would pay dearly for it, too.

****

Francis Gimmeli looked with heavy heart at the computer screen. Yesterday, his accounts had totaled nearly three million. Today there was less than fifty thousand dollars in his accounts. And he couldn't touch any of it until the IRS was finished with their audit. He set his jaw firmly and contemplated doing something he swore he would never do; embezzle from the bank's reserves. He typed in the series of alphanumeric digits and waited.