Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
He gives many toys away on Christmas Eve to needy families. Turkeys with all the fixin’s. Oodles of expensive dolls to the girls, puzzles for the brainy kids, the latest electronics like iPads, cellphones, you name it. He even gives away brand new cars.
His house turns into a winter wonderland covered in millions of lights that twinkle to the beat of cheerful Christmas songs. On Christmas day, the downstairs rooms are filled with hot homemade pies, soft cakes and buttery cookies from top notch Texan bakers that cater his shindigs. There’s always warm cozy fires lit, roaring in almost every room of his big mansion on fourteen acres of private land. The Christmas trees inside the house, all with different themes, have a crapload of presents beneath them, all for his smaller great-grandchildren. Dad says Grandpa picks out all the presents himself. Despite all of this, please don’t misunderstand. He’s not jolly, and he ain’t Santa by a long shot.
He’s one of the most feared men in all of Houston. Hell, all of Texas. Possibly the entire country.
My grandfather, Cyrus ‘Longhorn’ Wilde, is the head of the Wilde Empire. Some call it the Wilde, Wilde West. Some call him, ‘Bull in the China Shop.’ That’s because he walks into a place, strikes fear, and destroys men’s egos and pride within seconds, if he sees fit.
When you work for Mr. Longhorn, The Bull, he expects complete devotion.
He doesn’t care if you are blood, or a stranger on the street—if you cross him, you will pay, but not with money. No, he wants to eat your heart and soul.
When you’re born into the Wilde family, you are expected to answer your calling, fulfill your destiny. That means helping run the family business. Grandpa is generous with both pleasure and pain. Some try to toe the line. As soon as he feels like we’d make a good addition to the family business, we’re under contract.
Everyone’s contract is different, and rarely is it available for negotiation. Grandpa revises it as we age and mature. Mine is probably being revised as we speak. Like I said, I’m only seventeen—too young to have seen it just yet.
Speaking of contracts, right now all hell is about to break loose. I’m watching some of my older male cousins arriving at Grandpa’s compound in big black trucks. I imagine it’s to review their agreements. Matter of fact, I’m pretty certain of it. These particular cousins have been, I guess you could say, problems…
They’ve been resistant. Causing difficulties. They’re rebellious and have suffered for it, but it appears that Grandpa has called a meeting, and wants them to come to some sort of agreement. I only know this because I listen in on discussions that I’m not supposed to, and have done so for years. I know what closets and rooms have the best acoustics for hearing conversations throughout the house, if you figure out just where to stand. I know what rooms have landline phones that are bugged, and which have hidden cameras. I am also familiar with my grandfather’s routine, and I’m aware he will change it on a dime, anytime he sees fit. Since I was a little child, people have whispered about my grandfather. Some see him as an angel. Others, well, the opposite.
I’ve heard people curse his name, then never see that person again. I have pressed my ear close to vents in this enormous palace and overheard crying, screaming, and pleas for mercy. I have been held in his arms as a baby, felt him kiss me on my forehead, then he’d tuck in my bed, only to hear screams of agony from another chamber in his house moments later, followed by his calm, muffled voice. As if nothing had happened. Now, if you look out this window over here, you can see my uncles stepping out of the black trucks. Seven of them.
Yeah, that’s them. Now, the guy with the gun is Jasper. He’s one of my grandfather’s bodyguards…The head bodyguard, actually, and friend of the family. Yeah, he’s pattin’ them down before they come inside. That’s routine for anyone who comes in. Oh, you don’t have to be afraid. Just stay out of everyone’s way. Everything is set up and ready to go. The half-naked maids have already poured alcoholic potions in fancy white and black wine glasses for a luncheon Grandpa is having after this meeting. They also laid out impressive appetizers that Grandpa’s personal chef made, and provided expensive, gold-wrapped cigars on a silver tray. I doubt the food is for my cousins. Maybe the cigars. Grandpa asked Alexa to turn on some Crystal Gayle’s, ‘Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue.’ I heard him do it, and it’s been playing on repeat for over an hour. One of his favorite songs.