The apartment smelled of mildew and stale cigarettes but success was on Devon’s face. He had pulled off his plan and Carson would have egg on his face, like he had planned for so long.
Let’s see him explain his way out of this one, thought Devon as he opened his breakfast beer and poured it over his cereal. Those bids were rigged and Carson knew it, hell everyone in the whole damn city knew it! Now he was going to have some explaining to do.
Devon took his breakfast out onto the rickety fire escape of the second floor and watched his dingy little corner of the world wake up. Not that there was much to watch at this hour. He was surrounded by night people. People who had no morning routine but to sleep in and collect themselves for the next round of night.
A stray dog followed behind the garbage truck, hoping he would drop a morsel. A beer can flew out a third floor window toward the truck in a protest of the noise it made. This is where Devon belonged, where he had always lived, since he’d left Carson’s den. It’s where he was comfortable, home.
A smile crept across Devon’s face, thinking of what his father must be going through right now. Especially once the cops checked out the senator’s pockets. Trumped up or not, the bids were there, sealed and unsealed. Wrapped up in a neat little package, with a copy of a check for a recent campaign donation from Carson. All a stinking trail, leading back to Carson and his damn company. There was a reason the senator finally approved the project after fighting so long against it and that check was the reason. Devon was taking Carson down, he sure as hell would see to that. Carson deserved to be taken down. Carson, business man, family man, and general ass.
The world would know now that Carson had another side. More than competitive, more than business like, downright mean. Devon had seen it more than once. Carson’s other kids, they were just like him. Nice to his face and ready to do anything behind his back to get what they want, especially Destiny who wanted to own that company at any cost. Which of course was Devon’s bargaining chip, since no one else could stand Destiny, bossy, overly efficient and demanding, just like the old man.
Not me, thought Devon, I was the thorn in his side. Once mother was committed, for her own good, Carson said, I was still there. Mouthing right back and telling him off. He looked at me and saw her. A ghost to remind him of his evil deed. A deed that he would one day expose, once Carson’s business was sold at auction from under him.
Devon smashed his after breakfast cigarette out into the ashtray. Revenge was sweet indeed. He grabbed his coat and slammed the ill fitting door behind him. Carson would never find him.
But Carson would know he’d been there. The red carnation in the lapel would tell him, the same type of carnation his mother adored. The old Ford Fairlawn backfired as Devon pulled onto the highway toward the Rest View Insane Asylum.