Sky's the Limit

1
This is La Alegria

IMAGINE IF YOU WILL, the boardwalk next to Coast Road in sunny La Alegria’s Old Town. You’re enjoying your favorite seven-dollar coffee in a fully recyclable cup. Fresh ocean breezes gently riffle through your hair. The early morning fog has dispersed and the first beachgoers are staking out their places with huge umbrellas to keep the nasty sunlight from striking their skin.

Coming toward you is a vision: twin angels with golden hair streaming to their waists, white flowing skirts and blouses that you imagine might conceal only matching bikinis for after work. They walk arm-in-arm, chatting and laughing with each other as their day is just beginning.

They are identical in every way, but different as night and day. Pearl is all light and innocence, an angel of the divine. Ruby is darkness and guilt, an angel of the damned. Yet, to all appearances, identical.

And I love them both.

I’m Sky. That’s a name my parents got off some old TV show, not a description. I’ve been at work for an hour already, unboxing and displaying our latest release, The Spring that Never Came. The books arrived just before I left the previous evening. I breathed a sigh of relief since we have the grand release party scheduled for this evening. The author, Dee Wayne, will be here for the signing and reception at six. The twins won’t make it to the beach after work today.

Outside our shop, TBR Books, a suitor with more enthusiasm than good sense met them as I watched through the glass door. He immediately presented a rose to Ruby, who looked at him askance.

“Pearl, I’m so in love with you I can’t eat. I want to hold you in my arms and protect you for all our lives together. Please say you’ll go to the Firehouse Club for the release party of our new author, Leonard Smith. It will be a grand event. I just can’t go unless I know you will be on my arm,” Brent pled.

The girls walked into our store and waved to me before stopping at the display of Dee’s new books.

“Look! A whole new TBR pile for us! Thank you, Sky!” Pearl said to me, picking up one of Dee’s books. She smirked a little and nodded back at Brent, still pestering Ruby to date him.

“Brent, there are three little problems with your proposal. You really need to hire a good editor,” Ruby said to him. “First, as you can see, we are preparing for the release of Dee Wayne’s newest book tonight. I can hardly leave our signing to go to your party. Second, I really don’t like you that much. I’ll leave the flower on the desk for Sky to find a vase and present it to Dee. And third, I’m Ruby, not Pearl. If you can’t tell the difference, how could either of us possibly trust you to be faithful?”

“But wait…” Brent started as the girls set foot on the stairs to the offices above. “It doesn’t make a difference. I love you both! Please let me see you tonight.”

He started to follow them up the stairs, but I stepped between him and the girls, shaking my head.

“Employees only beyond this point,” I said, nodding toward a sign on the newel post.

“But I…” He shook his head and turned his attention to me. “How do you think your paltry little opening will fare when compared to our gala affair this evening? You might live in the same house as Pearl and Ruby, but you can’t even schedule events without stepping on your own dick. I’ll put your little shop out of business in six months. Then the twins will come running to me. Just wait and see.”

“I’m waiting,” I said. “Please leave the store if you aren’t planning to buy a book.”

“Just wait!”

Brent stormed out and I went back to arranging the display.

“He’s right, you know,” Pearl sighed. Her parents had also joined us for a quick lunch break. “We don’t have a ghost of a chance of attracting a crowd this evening when Argosy Books chose to hold a huge event at the same time.”

“Brent only scheduled his event after we’d announced ours,” Pat said.

Pat and Marge had been second parents to me ever since my parents—their business partners—had been killed in a car accident while on a ski trip in Colorado. I’d been twelve years old—almost thirteen. I owed my upbringing to the twins’ parents and I loved them dearly.

“We couldn’t attract a crowd if Pearl and I stood outside in our bikinis, offering free wine and kisses,” Ruby groused. “I’d be willing to try, though.”

“Ruby!” Pearl said. “You’d be willing to parade around in your bikini for anything. Don’t include me in your perverted ideas.”

“What do you think, Sky? Is there anything we can do at the last minute to attract more people this evening?” Marge asked. “Anything that still preserves the girls’ modesty,” she added glaring at Ruby.

“I wouldn’t risk Ruby and Pearl’s modesty for any kind of promotion,” I answered. Not that I ever objected to watching the twins in their bikinis. But this was business. “What does Argosy have for their promotion we don’t? I read Leonard Smith’s last book and he’s nothing special as an author when compared to Dee. We’ll be serving wine and cheese. I suppose Brent will have a full cocktail bar and buffet.”

“He even has a band scheduled, so people can dance,” Pearl sighed.

“Isn’t Leonard going to do a reading?” Marge asked.

“It’s more like an exhibition,” Ruby said. “He’ll stand and shake hands with people who want to meet a celebrity. He’ll sign books and take selfies next to the customers.”

“Yuck!” Pearl gave her opinion.

“We could do a two-for-one deal,” I said. “Buy Dee’s new book and get an autograph plus her prequel at half price. We have enough stock of The Winter in My Heart to fulfill the deal.”

“That’s more like two for one-and-a-half. It might do the trick, though. Can we make the numbers work?” Pat asked.

“I don’t think we’ll take a loss on the deal,” I said. “We know from experience that once a customer buys one book at TBR Books, they’re likely to buy more. If nothing else, we can consider it a loss leader. You can bet Argosy won’t make any money on their event, even if they attract a crowd. Holding it at the Firehouse Club means Leonard’s is the only book that will be for sale.”

Pat looked around at the other four of us. Pearl, Ruby, and Marge all nodded.

“We don’t have as deep of pockets as Argosy does,” Pat said. “Brent’s father is just raking in cash from his software company. He’s made premium offers for every property on this block. Argosy Books is a way for him to spend money on his son and drive the value of our bookstore down. I’ll agree to the promotion, but I’m not holding out any great expectations. Let’s figure out what we need.”

TBR Books is more than a bookstore. Pat, Marge, and my parents started out before either the twins or I was born. They had an idea for a boutique publishing house based on a constant flow of new books pulling sales of older titles along with them. They quickly realized they couldn’t publish books fast enough to drive the long tail of the curve along with them, so they used every asset they owned or could borrow to open the shop here on Coast Road to build up our stock.

It was a great location and attracted a lot of people who came out to walk along the beach or the eight-block boardwalk across the street from us. We were on a one-way street with parking on the business side. On the other hand, Argosy Books had opened its location three blocks inland on Pacific Highway, the main artery through town. It was a flashy glass and chrome shop that specialized in best sellers. You could tell Brent wasn’t raised in the book business.

You’d think that would be all the distinction needed to make both bookstores successful. In addition to the books we published—four to six a year—we also carried a lot of regional titles and books put out by other small and independent publishers. To fill out the shelves, we acquired good quality used books of the same sort almost daily.

The twins and I started working in the company when we were in high school, though we’d often hung out there for years. We just loved books—loved them as much as Pat, Marge, and my parents had. We all went to college together at a state university about eighty miles away. It was close enough to go home whenever we wanted, and far enough away that we couldn’t commute daily and had to live on campus. We all majored in literature and business-related courses, but we selected a variety of classes, ensuring we weren’t simply duplicating each other.

When we graduated five years ago, we each had a role at the company. Even though we can all edit books, Pearl specialized in contemporary editorial practices. She was sharp. Editing for a publishing house today isn’t just proofreading and stamping it done. An editor has to completely evaluate the quality of writing and marketability of a manuscript. She has to know the audience and that we can reach it, both in our little store and online.

Ruby could do editorial work as well. Her real love, though, was the design and look of books. She could make an ordinary book look like a market best seller. She knew book design, layout, print, electronic design, and the entire process of bringing a finished manuscript into the store as a book. She was a computer and software wizard!

Me? Yeah. I studied editing and literary criticism, just like the girls had. I loved to read and studied how to market and sell books. When we got home from college, I moved directly into store management and revamped how our books were displayed and organized. That bled over into our online store and I worked with Ruby to redesign how our store worked.

But my real passion was writing. I’d taken all the creative writing classes offered by our school. And I’d written countless manuscripts that lay hidden on my computer where no one could see them. One day, I’d submit them someplace to publish them. Someday.

Under any other circumstances, we’d have considered our release party with Dee Wayne a massive success. We had about fifty people come in to listen to Dee read and talk about her writing. We made thirty sales and Dee autographed them all. The girls poured white wine and made sure the cheese trays were tended. Marge took care of Dee. Pat and I ran the cash registers and made suggestions of other books the customer might enjoy. When we ended the event at eight, we were even profitable. We’d sold over a hundred books in two hours, including the half-price sales of Dee’s first book with the purchase of the new one.

We all had a toast to our author and cleaned up the store for the morning. We still had about twenty copies of The Spring That Never Came and Dee signed all of them so we could tie an “Autographed First Edition” ribbon around them. It was nearly ten by the time we locked up and left the store.

We could still hear the music playing when we passed The Firehouse Club as we walked home. Argosy had over 200 people at their event. It included a live band and buffet with a hosted bar. There was no way they could have turned a profit on the event, but it looked incredibly impressive. People would remember the massive party and forget all about the simple but profitable signing at TBR.

There were all kinds of things wrong with their event. People had no opportunity to buy anything except Leonard’s book. It was too noisy to hear Leonard make a presentation, so conversations were shouted over the music. It was expensive to host a bar and hire a band and a venue.

But Brent wasn’t producing the show to make a profit. He was producing it to undercut TBR Books. He’d never made a secret about his intent to put us out of business. When he first opened his store a year before the twins and I returned from college, we all welcomed a new bookstore to the community. Their market was very different from ours. We believed that when people bought books, they encouraged more book sales, no matter what store they were in.

Brent believed his should be the only store.

Pat and Marge went home to bed. Pearl, Ruby, and I bought a carry-out pizza on the way home. Once there, we changed into our pajamas and took the pizza to our reading nook. We curled up to lick our wounds, eat the pizza, and eventually fall asleep on top of each other.

2
Tough Break

I WAS ALMOST THIRTEEN years old when my parents were killed. I stayed with Pat and Marge and the twins while my parents went on a fifteenth anniversary ski trip to Colorado. Icy roads and a sheer cliff drop-off had claimed them.

I was devastated. My entire world ended. I couldn’t even speak. Every time I opened my mouth, I sobbed. I discovered a nook above the staircase at the Larsons’ house and hid there, just crying.

Pearl and Ruby found me there. Pearl gave me a hug that made me incredibly aware of how our bodies were changing. Ruby slugged me in the arm hard enough to knock me back. Then she hugged my arm to her and whispered, “It will only hurt for a while.” They both cried with me.

I spent a lot of time in that nook, staring out the window at the ocean. Most of the time the girls were there with me. I gradually moved my belongings out of my home and into theirs. It was one of the huge houses that a minor movie star built as a retreat back in the forties. Pat and Marge bought it for a song in the nineties during some kind of estate dispute.

My house had been my grandparents’ home just a couple of doors up the street. Granddad died in the seventies and left Grandma to raise her son in a big house by herself. She just let Mom and Dad live there when they got married and Grandma went off to tour the world.

She came back for my parents’ funeral and to put things in order. Once she had the house cleared of personal items, she said it would one day be mine, when I was ready for it. Until then, she’d get an agent to rent the place and take care of maintenance. Grandma helped me decide where I wanted to live and signed custody over to Pat and Marge. I remember the last time I left the old house and locked the door behind me. I think that marked where I truly turned the page and started a new chapter in my life.

Pat and Marge didn’t actually adopt me. They said I’d always be my parents’ son and they weren’t going to try to replace them. They’d just take care of me to the best of their ability. I grew to love them and to love the twins.

The reading nook with Pearl and Ruby became a focal point for our lives. We were all kind of bookish and already spent every spare minute at TBR. But the reading nook was a where we started reading to each other. Pearl started it. She brought a book to the nook one night after we were all in our pajamas and just opened it and started reading aloud.

Sometimes we only read a chapter and sometimes, we read late into the night. When Pearl’s teen romance book was finished, Ruby brought an intense literary thriller to the nook and we cuddled close together as we read each night before bed. When it was finished, Pearl turned to me and said, “Tomorrow night, you bring a book to read to us.”

Me? I knew what kind of books the girls liked. Pearl had chosen a romance and Ruby a thriller. I was usually into fantasy, but I’d enjoyed the girls’ choices. I’d really enjoyed just being cuddled with them each night. I spent a long time in the store the next day and finally selected an independently published teen crossover fantasy titled Jackie the Beanstalk. Normal everyday teen girl—I figured my angels would appreciate a girl protagonist—who takes off on an adventure with her Aunt Misty and her dog Roadkill right after graduation. Somehow, they cross into a fantasy world where their old sports car never runs out of gas. They encounter monsters, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, an ogre, a giant, and about any other kind of fantasy creature you can imagine. All this while they try to find and rescue a young prince. Cool.

It all went well until I turned the page and saw Jackie’s commentary about her nickname, ‘Beanstalk.’ She looked up the definition in an urban dictionary to see if it meant anything other than a tall skinny kid. The third definition she found was ‘a clitoral erection, as in lick my beanstalk.’

The girls giggled and blushed. I was going to slam the book shut and apologize, but Ruby stuck her hand between the pages and looked at me evilly.

“Do you know what that is and means?” she whispered.

She giggled all the way through her detailed explanation. I almost passed out from hyperventilating before Pearl came to my rescue. Her face was bright red.

“Okay, we all know what’s what now, Ruby. Thank you very much! Sky, just keep reading!”

I did, and fortunately there wasn’t that much more that was too embarrassing. I even attempted different girl-voices for Jackie and Misty. That got a lot of laughs. And while I read, the girls leaned against me from either side. They were so sweet. I just had to be careful to keep my lap covered so any unintended responses weren’t obvious.

We went through a couple of dozen books, reading aloud for an hour or so each night after we were ready for bed. I slowly came out of my depression—at least most of the time—and life became almost normal living with my adopted family. I realized I’d fallen in love with my two childhood friends who had cared for me when I was at my lowest.

“Roll for potion strength,” Elixia Brewster, our game’s potion master called out.

In real life, she was Denise, the barista for TBR Bookstore’s coffee bar. Everyone agreed, she was a master at brewing. On Wednesday evenings, she was a cornerstone of our D&D game.

It wasn’t required, but if a customer chose to roll for strength, they paid a tip according to the posted numbers at the counter. There was a chance that you’d roll a one and only tip one percent. There was a chance you’d roll a twenty and tip twenty percent. Denise came up with the system and even non-gamers got into playing. She made good money.

It was part of the atmosphere of TBR Books. I’d added activities like this when I got out of college and started taking over the bookstore. I changed a lot of things as I focused on competing with Argosy Books, the ultra-modern glass and steel bookstore a few blocks east of us. But I was determined not to lose the general funky vibe that made our store unique. We were in Old Town La Alegria across the Coast Road from the boardwalk and the beach. People were as likely to stop into the store in board shorts or bikinis for a cup of Denise’s coffee as they were to buy a book. A lot of coffee customers walked out with books, too.

We’d always carried some used books, but I wanted a wider range of books in the store, so I started buying used books from customers and going to library and estate sales, focusing on books from independent publishers and by regional authors. I only bought books that were in excellent condition. They were clearly marked on the cover as “1/2 Price.” Other than that, I shelved them along with the new books in the same genre or category.

We had a few tables in the store so people could sit with their beverages. A lot of younger people came in to use our free WiFi. A customer could also choose a used book to read while they lounged in one of the comfy chairs we had scattered around the store. A lot of people stopped at the cash register on the way out to buy a book they’d started while drinking coffee in the cool store.

“Sky, don’t you think this turns the store into more of a library than a bookstore?” Pat asked me when I started making the changes.

“I think it’s what sets us apart from other stores,” I said, referring to the shiny Argosy Books a couple of blocks away. “We want to be a focal point of the Waterfront. The longer people stay in the store, the more they will buy. When we have a signing, it should be natural to have people stop in to meet the author.”

“I guess. Folks have always stopped in just to browse around and see what’s new. Or old, as the case may be,” Pat said. “Your folks would be proud of you, Sky. It was always part of the business plan to sell books retail and not just the ones we publish. We kept the store going, even though it was rough after they passed. We were stretched too thin to manage the store effectively. Hiring to cover it seemed impossible.”

“Thank you for keeping it going,” I said. “I’m not as good at the editing and publishing as the girls are. Coming into the store to work after Mom and Dad died was part of what helped me survive. The store and the twins.”

“Just keep it going. And let me know when you need anything.”

I took advantage of Pat’s faith in me. Even when I was in high school, I started acquiring used books. I established a policy of paying ten percent of the cover price for used books. I’d sell them at half price. Somewhere in there, we made a profit. Of course, the main business of the store was new books from small and independent publishers.

Like most bookstores, we received review copies of new books and if they were any good at all, we’d order a copy or two for the shelves. How did we determine whether they were any good? That was a family task. All five of us were avid readers.

We extended our read-alouds to the public on Thursday evenings, with each of us reading a favorite passage aloud from one of the books we’d read. We’d include a review of the book and a discount on any of the titles we featured that night. Sometimes, we had twenty or more people at the Thursday night readings. Sometimes, we just read to each other. And sometimes, we’d have one of our authors in for a reading and signing.

We were reading a new YA from one of the local authors on Thursday evening when Brent Drake came strolling in with Debbie on his arm. There was no question that Brent was there to try to pick up one or both of the twins before we closed. I couldn’t understand why Debbie put up with his nonsense.

Debbie. That was another chapter from my past. She’d been my girlfriend my senior year in college until I brought her home to see our little store and town. She’d immediately mistaken flashy Argosy Books on Pacific Highway for our store and was excited about how pretty it was. I had to correct her and walk over to Coast Road to show her our two-story frame bookstore and publishing company. We no more than walked in the door when I got pressed into operating the cash register because no one else was available. While the three of us ‘kids’ were away in college, Pat and Marge operated the whole store and publishing operations with just a couple of employees.

While I was ringing up a customer, Brent came in, checking even back then to see if the twins were around. Before I finished with the customer I was ringing up, Brent had latched onto my blonde girlfriend Debbie and promised her a real treat at Argosy. How could a used bookstore clerk compare to the owner of the new best seller store? I’d just lost an extremely shallow girlfriend.

No great loss. I wasn’t in love with her. But I knew I couldn’t have the girls I loved.

“Evening, Brent and Debbie,” I said as we straightened the meeting area of the store. “We still have ten minutes until closing. Sorry to rush you. Can I help you find something?”

“What would a stupid store clerk be able to help with?” Debbie snorted, latching possessively onto Brent’s arm.

“You don’t need to cling so closely,” I laughed. “Pearl and Ruby already left with Pat and Marge. They won’t distract Brent.”

“Brent treats me like a queen,” Debbie said.

“You should read our new book about Henry VIII,” I said. “Most of his queens ended up dead.”

“You think you’re clever,” Brent sniffed. “Won’t amount to much when we take over. Dad’s putting out an offer for the entire block to redevelop into a high-rise resort and retail center. It will drive billions in revenue into the city. What do you have that can compete with it? A hundred dollars?”

“Rezoning has to be approved by the voting public. I don’t think your dad can pay off every voter. A high-rise here would block the ocean view of a quarter of the city’s population and drive their property values into the ground. You think they’ll approve it?”

“Just sell out, already,” Brent scoffed. “Go take your used bookstore inland.”

“Ignore him, Brent,” Debbie said. “He doesn’t have any say-so. He doesn’t own this shabby place like you own Argosy.”

Brent looked at the display near the checkout counter.

“What are you doing with so many of Leonard Smith’s books here? How can you sell them at half price?” he asked indignantly.

“I might have to cut the price further in order to get rid of them,” I said. “Most of them have only had the first chapter read, but people brought them in after your big signing event and gladly took two bucks off Dee Wayne’s signed release. I had to quit buying used copies of Smith’s book because they can’t be sold. Even selling them for five dollars would give me three as profit.”

“That’s not fair competition,” Brent stormed.

“Since when have you been concerned about fair competition?” I asked. “I don’t mind making a few bucks off your author. Too bad Leonard doesn’t get a royalty on resales.”

“Three dollars on a book sale?” Debbie sniffed. “Is that all you have to live on? You are so worthless. Come on Brent, baby. I have a treat for you when we get home.”

They stormed out of the store and I locked the door.

3
Skeletons in the Closet

“HELP! AN OLD CREEPER! Save me!” Debbie screamed, pelting down the hall to Brent’s room.

She’d only been living in the Drake mansion a couple of days. It had taken years for her to convince Brent she should live with him. She’d intended to make this a little celebration for the two of them and had crept down the hall toward Brent’s room to celebrate with him. She was only wearing a sheer negligee and slippers. She threw herself against Brent’s door.

From her room to his room. It wasn’t exactly cohabiting. She’d moved into the mansion, but not into his room. That was okay. She liked her independence and now that she lived in the mansion, she had servants and meals and even a nice allowance Brent was giving her.

And an old creeper! She’d been quietly slipping down the hall when she saw him near the stairs. She’d met Brent’s father, David, and this wasn’t him. He was around the same age, though, and just wearing a bathrobe, carrying a glass of milk and plate of cookies. He stared right at her, his gaze sweeping up and down over her nearly naked body. She’d screamed and run to Brent’s door, pushing it open and rushing inside.

Her boyfriend was wearing only a pair of boxers as he stood beside his bed, naked from the waist up, showing a slight paunch already, even though he wasn’t yet thirty. She quickly turned her back to him as she shut his door.

“Debbie? What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was… I was just… coming to give you a little late-night snack,” she panted. “But… But there was…”

“This is a house, not a cheap motel,” Brent growled grabbing her shoulders. “You can’t run around dressed like this. People live here!”

“I wasn’t… There was a creepy old man who stared at me. He was going to rape me,” Debbie said.

“Nonsense!” Brent said.

He opened his door and a man dressed in a bathrobe, with a glass of milk and plate of cookies, was standing there, staring at his door.

“Pretty girl!” he said, gesturing toward Debbie. “Nice.”

Debbie tried to hide herself behind Brent.

“Uncle Matt, this is my girlfriend, Debbie. I thought I’d get a chance to introduce her at breakfast.” He pulled Debbie up beside him, negligent of how exposed she was in her filmy nightie. “She won’t run around like this anymore.”

“Okay. Nice. Run around like this all the time,” Matt chuckled, waving with the glass of milk, then taking a drink from it, leaving a milky mustache on his lip.

“Debbie, Uncle Matt lives here. Say hello and don’t upset him,” Brent instructed.

“Hello… um… Uncle Matt,” she croaked out. “Brent, you have to protect me.”

“There’s nothing to protect you from. Just don’t try to touch my uncle. He doesn’t like people to touch him,” Brent instructed. “Goodnight, Uncle Matt. We’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Night-night,” the older man said. “Nice to see you.”

He nodded toward Debbie, making her even more self-conscious, then continued down the hall. Brent pulled her back into his room and closed the door.

“Why does he live here?” Debbie demanded. “He scared me half to death and leered at me.”

Brent held her at arm’s length and looked her up and down. The translucent nightie really didn’t cover much. He chuckled.

“Well, if you run around like this, even my father and the staff will stare at you,” he said. “I’m certainly going to stare at you.”

Debbie tried unsuccessfully to cover herself with her hands. Oh well. She came here to have sex with him. She was just weirded out by the old man.

“He’s really your uncle?” she asked.

“Yes. Technically, he owns this place. Dad bought it in his name so no one could claim Uncle Matt was being abused. There are full-time staff here to take care of him. Half a dozen people besides Dad, Uncle Matt, and us live here. You need to get used to it. If you want to run around undressed, everyone will want a peek. Uncle Matt looked like he got quite a thrill.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He has savant syndrome, according to professionals. Or maybe he’s just severely autistic. He’s a brilliant computer software developer, but he doesn’t really function well in any other capacity. Drake Assistive Technology was founded by Dad and based on the developmental work of Uncle Matt. But Uncle Matt can’t stand to be around more than one or two people at a time and you heard him speak as much as any of us ever have,” Brent said.

“He developed Drake Assistive Technology?” Debbie asked to confirm. Maybe she would need to be especially nice to the old man.

“Yes. Dad’s his official guardian and he’s hired expert caretakers for him. But our family’s wealth is all based on Uncle Matt’s computer code. Point him at a problem and he’ll develop an AI app that will take care of it. Most of the staff at DAT works on user interface, code review, and marketing.”

“How old is he?” she asked.

“He’s fifty-six,” Brent answered. “Three years older than Dad. He isn’t dangerous, so you don’t need to worry about that. But don’t blame him for staring at you. He has normal male urges but doesn’t like to touch or be touched by anyone. He’s probably in his room drinking his milk with one hand and stroking his meat with the other.”

“I didn’t know. I’ll be more careful,” Debbie said. Careful to make sure he gets little peeks. It couldn’t hurt to have a member of the rich older generation being nice to her.

“Now, about why you were sneaking down the hall to my room dressed like a call girl. Were you making a room visit?” Brent asked, stroking his girlfriend’s waist and hips as he drew her to him.

“I just thought you might want to have a little snack yourself,” she giggled, kissing him. She’d rather establish the control of visiting him rather than having him coming to her room. She could manipulate him better this way.

Debbie slipped out of Brent’s bed and returned to her own room about three in the morning. If there was one thing she hated more than anything else, it was waking up next to a man she’d just had sex with. They always felt like they owned her.

Her own room was spacious and had a private bath. She had a computer, a television, and all the clothes Brent had purchased her. That was her personal space. Of course, she pretty much had the run of the mansion. She just needed to learn where everything was and win the staff over to her. Then she’d start working on Brent’s father.

Brent had lost track of the real purpose of having Argosy Books and putting TBR Books out of business. He really was an ass who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. So, when his father had laid out the plan for the waterfront resort and business center, Brent had enthusiastically filled Debbie in on the whole plan. But somewhere along the line, Brent had fallen for those Nordic blonde twins and lost focus on why he was supposed to seduce them. He just wanted them. He was a sucker for blondes, and Debbie was careful to keep her roots bleached out.

Debbie didn’t care about his fascination with the twins. As long as her spot in the mansion was secure, he could sleep with anyone he wanted to. The blondes were as stupid as Sky. So, they thought they could edit books. None of them would ever be best sellers. Eventually, the hippie book shop and the whole publishing operation would go belly-up. Debbie wanted to make sure David Drake, Brent’s father, was standing by to mop up the mess and take over the entire Old Town area.

She’d be sure to figure out a way to use Uncle Matthew as well. Then let Sky come crawling to her. She wanted to see the terminally poor game nerd beg her to take him back.

In the morning, she met David and Matthew at the breakfast table with Brent. She shook off a shudder as the mentally deficient uncle leered at her.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbled, then went back to eating his oatmeal.

“Matthew, this is Brent’s girlfriend. Be nice to her,” David said.

“Nice.”

“I’ve got a new application concept for you to play with today.”

“Fun?” Matthew asked.

“Just imagine having everything in the house working automatically because you just told the application what to do. Your bath is ready at the right temperature exactly when you want it at 8:00. Your favorite toys are waiting for you. You could have your milk and cookies delivered to your room by a robot and never worry about having to touch someone,” David said. “Just look over the concept and tell me what you need.”

“Fun!” Matthew affirmed.

“I heard some of the other developers talking about a new drone the other day, so I ordered one for you. You put on a pair of goggles and feel like you’re flying. You can operate it from the roof of the house here and it has a five-mile range, and two-hour flight time. You’ll love it.”

“Like to fly!” Matthew said. He wiped his mouth and left the table to return to his room and his computers.

“I’m heading to the mayor’s office this morning,” David told Brent.

“What’s the plan, Dad?”

“We have everything in place now for the planning commission to approve our rezoning. As soon as that’s in place, we can start collecting on the purchase offers we have out. If we move the meeting up twenty-four hours, no one will come to oppose it, it’s a done deal.”

“That’s great! Does it include tearing out Coast Road and moving the resort closer to the boardwalk? That will be so cool to be able to walk out the door and onto the beach!”

Debbie silently wondered if Brent was touched in the head the way his uncle was. A resort with beach access was far more than cool. Even the businesses that didn’t want to sell would soon realize that blocking that end of the Coast Road would cut traffic to Old Town and everything else would tumble after it. Buying the first