Page 189 of Rhet

“Let’s begin shall we,” I state. Passing through four arches we enter Carson’s sitting room.

The gold and crystal pendant chandelier creates a soft glow against the cream-colored walls. There is a piano sitting on a dais. I walk to it looking at the pictures of Carson’s family. Carelessly I tinkle the keys. Above the fireplace there is an abstract picture of women in green

Carson walks to the bar. My dad paces.

“Every time some shit goes down in my family, your name always pops up. Why is that Carson?” My rage for Carson makes my body tremble.

“You can go to hell, Banner. I have nothing to say,” Carson replies.

“You know, everyone wants to send me to hell, but no one has the guts to kill me. Maybe that might change today,” I run my finger over the keys going left to right. The acoustics in this room are beautiful.

“Your brother had everything I wanted,” Carson replies smugly.

Carson turns and sips his drink. As if he has no care we’re here.

“Do you want to tell him, Henry or should I?” Carson winks at my dad.

I look to Dad; he has stopped pacing. “Carson.”

“I want to destroy the Banner Empire because you all destroyed me,” Carson cries.

Part of me wants to put a bullet through his skull but the other part of me wants to know the why’s and how’s. There must be a reason behind all of this.

“How did we destroy you?” I ask.

He walks to his glass door, looking out at his back yard, swirling the ice in his cup. All these dramatics are a complete bore. It’s time for me to get his attention.

I raise my gun and shot near his head, shattering the glass in front of him. He ducks and scrambles on the floor.

“Next time, I won’t miss. Someone told me to listen. So here I fucking am. Listening, so talk, Carson.

He gets up and dusts the glass shards off his clothes. His guard the one that I just threatened comes in with his gun drawn. With the mood I’m in, I don’t care if I go to jail for killing a guard or not. As long as I take Carson with me, I’m great.

“It’s nothing. Step back outside,” Carson says.

The guard still has his gun pointed at us.

“I said to step outside,” he shouts. The man turns away and was out of the room.

“Let me tell you a story. About two young boys in love.”

My mind reels as I take a seat on a leather ottoman. The gun still in my hand, now rests on my lap.

Carson ignores me. “There were once two best friends. They were inseparable. Both great at football. Both of them frat brothers, future Lakeshore board members. Both of them hoping to be scouted so they could continue to play the game they so loved.”

My father paces slowly, his head is bent, and his hands are behind his back. Carson watches his every move.

“One of the boys fell in love with the other and one cold evening the best friends made love for the first time ever with each other,” Carson snickers.

Something about this story is making my senses tingle. Who the hell are these boys? I’m curious so I listen to more about what Carson has to say.

“When one boy told the other, he loved him. The other rejected him, he even said they were never friends.”

What the hell does this fucking story have to do with Trent? Why have my brother killed over this?

“Instead of accepting he loved the boy. The friend had the other football players beat him, damaging him. The injuries he sustained were so bad the boy had to give up his dream of ever playing football.”

This can’t be fucking happening right now. It’s all beginning to fall into place in my mind.

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