Wallstreet God (The House Of Creed Book 1)

by D. M. Burns

  “You’re going to push me to do things I’m never going to regret, Channing.” I deadpan. He stops and looks up at me briefly then smirks but goes back to reviewing his paperwork.

  “Baby brother, it’s rude to invite yourself into someone else’s home let alone make yourself comfortable on their couch.” He mumbles while staying focused on the forms in his hand. Channing rounds in front of the other couch across from me then drops down. He tosses the papers beside him and rests his ankle over his knee. “Please tell me… What do I owe the pleasure of Brogan Creed visiting me?” He smiles wide.

  “Figured I should come visit you; see how you live. The same as you did me. Just returning the same courtesy.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal.

  “Well in that case, would you like something to drink?” He stands and makes his way over to the bar.

  “Oh, I almost forgot…” I rub my hands together then continue, “Of course, I wanted to welcome you myself to The House of Creed. Now that Creed Capitals is a part of the family seeing how the deal closed out today. The new name is going up on the building tomorrow and my design crew should be crowding into the office space after the holidays.”

  Smirking through my confusing emotions is something that I find myself to be doing a lot of here lately. That entire deal didn’t bring me near the amount of joy I thought it would today. Getting vengeance for my dad was meant to calm me. I anticipated that deal to settle my soul but no. The only time I feel at peace is in the company of one blonde-haired southern belle.

  “Looks like you’re getting everything you ever wanted little brother, yeah?” His jaw ticks as the words roll from his tongue. There’s a slight twinge of aggravation in his voice. It was the inevitable and he knows it.

  “Do you have any Southern Comfort?” I ask. He chuckles and nods his head.

  “As a matter of fact, I do but I’m not sure I want to share it with you though. It’s becoming my go-to of choice. I ordered some after seeing your selection the other night. Turns out, I’m weirdly attracted to the texture. Addicted to it really.”

  He looks up at me and smiles wide as he pours two glasses then heads back in my direction. That hateful ball of rage in the pit of my stomach is turning a nasty, deeper shade of red. He extends the offered glass and I take it while he returns to his seat. I look down into the tumbler and swirl the brown liquid around.

  “Before you go making any other changes you might want to check with me though. After all, we’re fifty-fifty shared, interest owners. A partnership. But seeing how Creed is my last name, I have no objections to the name change.” He says.

  “Yeah, something like that. Anyway, there are changes being made and I strongly suggest you roll with them. As we’ve already established during your visit to my home the other night, I’m the better businessman. That’s not a popular opinion either but instead concrete facts.” I throw the brown liquid back downing it in one go.

  “I’ll give you that.” He says while staring out into his lavished living area. “I think my priorities have taken a sudden shift. So, you do you.” My eyes squint out at this idiot. There’s a punchline.

  “Is that so.? Care to share?” I ask. Let’s see how this chick flick starring this dick rolls out.

  “You’re not going to like the answer to that.” He shakes his head slowly on a sinister smirk. “But I’d like the opportunity to try and act civilized with my only baby brother plus it’s the holidays. What the hell, right?” He chuckles and I fight back the urge to punch him in the face. “I’m getting to the point in my life where I think it’s time to settle down. Time to think about a family. Hell, I’m financially set. I mean, I’m no Brogan Creed mind you, but I think my numbers are damn impressive.” He turns his glass up and hums in appreciation. “That’s some really good shit. The more I have of it the more I find myself craving it.”

  Channing’s meaning is ill-received but understood all the same. That admission has nothing to do with the whiskey, it’s Brealyn he’s talking about. That family bullshit revolves around her too. I stand and move back to his bar to get another refill.

  “Let me ask you something, Brogan.” I nod my head indicating for him to go on. In all my years, I’ve found that if you let people talk, nine times out of ten, they’ll tell you everything you need to know. Since I can’t read this bastard I might as well let him spew. “Now that you got the daddy closure you wanted and waited so long for do you feel complete?” He leans up and braces his elbows on his legs letting the glass dangle from his fingertips.

  “Honestly, no but I feel it ended as it should have.” I give him the solid truth.

  “Bad part about all of that is I warned you it wouldn’t soothe the soul, but you insisted anyway. Had you left things alone I would’ve never been a playing factor in your world or at least not in this capacity. It’s a decision that you’ll come to wish you could take back. Mark my words.” He smiles.

  “What’s the disparity, Channing? I mean, seriously. I don’t see what the difference is in making money with me or someone else except my flawless tactics leave no room for failure. And with the way that god damn place was left blowing in the wind with its financial fuckery on a crutch, the clock was ticking down on someone else swooping in and buying it out. With it being me, you’ll only prosper. So, what’s the big fucking deal?” I really want to know what he comes up with.

  “It’s a lot like the fuel that kept you going for Vick. CC Capitals was supposed to be my company, Brogan. Something I could pass down. A legacy of sorts but you did to me what Vick did to your old man, stole it out from under me. I had nothing to do with what happened to Grant but I did bust my ass keeping it afloat through your temper tantrums. You didn’t even take the time to get to know me, but you knew I was your brother.” He stands from his seated position. I never really thought about it like that but then again fuck him. “Honestly, I’m not all that upset about it after tonight. Which I find unsettling but calming in the same right. Had you not made those choices for the both of us, I’d be none the wiser about the bigger picture here. So, I guess I should really be thanking you.” I step out from behind his bar and sip from the refresher I made myself.

  “She’s not a fucking acquisition, Channing. Business is one thing. Messing with someone’s emotions is another level of fuckery that even I don’t embark upon. I want you to stay far the fuck away from her.” I grate out.

  “That’s no longer your call now is it, little brother?” His silver slits glare out at me for the first time. “The man of one-night stands is lecturing me. The revolving closet of cunt-coats. Are you a mental motherfucker?” His face is turning a tad bit red. I silently wonder if he’s had his blood work check recently. Then I remember that I don’t give a fuck.

  “You don’t give a shit about integrity or loyalty, but you do care for her. I warned you in that boardroom to walk away but no. Now, I’ve had a small sample of her. And much like that Southern Comfort you’re so fond of, she’s a sweet-savory flavor. A small taste is just never enough. I see the peach appeal and that’s on you. It’s not my fault and it damn sure isn’t going to be hers as to how things will turn out. It’s your doings, remember that you little prick.” He points his index finger at me for an added effect.

  “So, this is your play to get me back, her?” I toss back the rest of my drink then set the glass down and measure my slow descent in his direction. “Fucking typical rebellious blowback, but she’ll never entertain your futuristic plans for a family, Channing.” I chuckle.

  “Baby brother, she’s not a play; not by a long shot. Are you listening, you asshole? Do you ever take in the overall picture? You know, like think outside the box of Creed? You opened the door and let me in never once knowing that Vick wasn’t the big bad wolf. It was me all along. I’ve sat back and surveyed you for years. Shining like the Wallstreet God that you believe yourself to be. I waited for your greedy ass to fuck up.” He laughs out loud.

  “You’re talking in riddles. Honestly, you sound
a lot like dad right now.” He does. Hands down. Dad used to talk in circles and by the time he was done, you’d be dizzy from trying to keep up.

  “You’ll figure it out sooner or later. Listen, I’ll be working from home until Creed Capitals is up and running under the new design. So, if you need me, feel free to catch me on my cell. This was fun. Let’s do it again, soon. If you don’t mind, please show yourself out, yeah?” He turns to excuse himself.

  “Question… It’s completely irrelevant but shit big bro… I’ve got to know.” I say. He turns back around, and I fling my hands out at all the candles lining the enormous room. “What the fuck is up with the wax shop? You have candles everywhere. It’s disturbing.” I ask.

  When he smirks, it’s laced with devious inclinations and all the candles simultaneously blare to life with fire. I quirk my brows at him. I didn’t see that shit coming. Well, that explains it, huh? He’s a flaming fucking bastard. His smile grows into one of pure wickedness and the radiance from all the candles causes him to look like the devil himself. It helps the visual a great deal when his retinas turn to a molten lava tent too.

  “Pretty fucking cool. If I weren’t me, I’d be jealous.” I nod giving him the props he deserves for that one.

  “Anything else, little brother?” He asks.

  “If you take this path you won’t be able to control the outcome.” My voice is composed but my insides can feel the threat of a Lone Walker war rising within.

  I allow my eyes to ignite in what I know resembles LED lasers leering out from a lighthouse distance scouring the seas. My blindingly bright ice whites are spotlighting my focus for the fucker in front of me in a circular show. The room around us glows out like a fresh layer of snow outlined by the red sun.

  “Funny, that’s the same thing I told you last week. You chose to ignore me just like I’m damn sure going to do the same with respect to your request. Merry Christmas to you, Brogan.” He turns and walks out.

  chapter 21

  Brealyn

  “Please pass me the creamer.” I point across the table and Tam pushes it my way. “Jesus, this coffee needs to be stronger. Now I remember why I stopped hanging out with you guys. I can’t take the day after hangovers anymore.”

  I pour a generous amount of creamer into my get up and go juice then prop my chin in my hand while stirring vigorously. The sunglasses are firmly in place on my face to keep the sun out of my grouchy eyes. But it does nothing to calm that pounding drummer boy in my head that’s doing one helluva solo routine.

  “Stop yelling at me, geese,” Tam whispers while clutching her head in her hands. She doesn’t seem to be doing much better than I am as she nurses her cup. Her look mirrors mine, regret.

  “I’m not yelling,” I say.

  “Sounds like it.” She mumbles.

  “Why did we drink so much?” I grumble and she looks up at me with those big framed sunglasses hiding her gorgeous eyes too, but I know she’s giving me the suck it up buttercup look. Like my current state of suffering isn’t reason enough to allow my whining. “I need to recuperate,” I whisper, and she nods.

  “That second suit of sin left right after you did last night.” She rasps out. My head anchors up and my eyebrows crease in question. “Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about. Brogan’s brother. He left right after you.”

  “Yelp, I know. He walked me home.” I turn my coffee up and her mouth hangs open.

  “No fair.” She grumbles. “So, your tagging both brothers, huh? I’d be shocked if I weren’t so proud. My influence on you is finally taking shape.” Tam giggles and I shake my head.

  “It’s not like that at all and you know it,” I say. “Channing was just seeing me home,” I explain.

  “Listen ho-bag, I know men and that guy wasn’t being a good Samaritan. Nope… auhh-nah.” She clucks her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “He showed up at that bar for you, period. This is going to be fun to watch. A brother brothel of pending dome.” Tam leans back in her chair crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Uhhh, not everyone is out for booty, Tam.” I turn my cup up and she pulls her sunglasses off tossing them on the table squinting through the sunrays blaring through our favorite coffee shop window.

  “Listen, Brea-bee… That man’s entire act last night was no accident and I’m angry that things are a little fuzzy in here.” She points to her head then continues, “But if I’m recalling correctly that man was yum. Like an older more experienced in life kinda Creed of hotness. What is going on with that?”

  “Seriously, Tam… I have no idea. I’m not in the loop with their family history but I know that Channing and Brogan don’t really get along all that well. Brogan just learned about Channing last week. It bothers me that their brothers and act like mortal enemies, ya know. I don’t think either of them has anyone else. Uhhhh, crap….” I sigh.

  “Wow, this is really bothering you, huh?” She covers her hand over mine.

  “Yeah. I think they need each other more than either of them is willing to admit.”

  “Brea, you can’t fix people. They’re going to have to want to fix themselves.” I know she’s right, but I can’t help but want to try and superglue them back together somehow.

  “I know that-really I do. But what’s the worst that could happen from inching those two together?” I smile.

  “Girl, it could get really ugly especially if both are trying to compete for you. Which is what it looks like is taking place. Now, which one do you favor?” She wiggles her brows and smiles wide. “No, don’t tell me. I know you… It’s Brogan.” It looks like her coffee is kicking in.

  “You’d be right, but I’ve got to go. I think I need a nap then I’m going to try doing this day all over again. It’s safe to say that I’m over the bar scene, Tam. I can’t keep up with you and Max anymore.” I stand and push my chair under, and she follows suit linking her arm through mine.

  “Is it you and me plus the Christmas tree again this year?” I ask. “Christmas is next week, you know?”

  “Ahhh, crap. Do you remember that runway show and fashion shoot in Miami I told ya about?” I nod. “I leave tomorrow afternoon.” She says.

  Even though it hurts my heart that I’ll be without my BFF again this year, I suck it up. I want my best friend to succeed far past all her dreams.

  “I’ll record Charlie Brown again and we’ll celebrate when you get back then. No big deal.” I push the front doors open and we trudge out of the coffee shop.

  “You’re so bad at lying. You do know that, right?” She smirks. “Don’t forget that Max will steal you away on Christmas day. You tell his parents I said I love them.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, well it’s selfish for me to want you for myself. You go and make me proud out in Miami and don’t worry with little ole me.” I smile.

  “Pick a brother and claim the D as an early Christmas present.” She giggles. “When I get back you, me, and Charlie Brown, yeah? It’s going down.”

  “Okay, sure. Love ya and almost Merry Christmas, Tam.” I reach out and hug my bestie tight.

  “Love you too, Brea-bee. Merry Christmas. I’ll call you.” She waves out over her shoulder then disappears in the bodies milling about.

  With my butt to my rusty fire escape, legs swinging over the edge, I pull my blanket tighter around my body. Even though I’m in my favorite lounging sweats and cutoff sweatshirt from Victoria Secrets the frigid New York weather requires a bundle up effect of multiple layers. I know I look just like ET’s sidekick with the hooded blanket wrapped around my face, but I don’t care.

  I’m enjoying the tiny snowflake show while devouring a bag of hot boiled Cajun peanuts. I love this country girl indulgent and when I caught a whiff the other day, I followed the smell to the store around the corner. It was like a stocking stuffer full of Cajun nuts from good old Santa.

  Popping another in my mouth, I bite into the shell just right popping it open and tonguing the nuts loose while sucking
out the spicy juices. My nose scrunches up as I replay those words over again in my mind’s loudspeaker. Tonging the nuts loose and sucking out the spicy juices, huh? My lips tip up and my laughter is uncontrollable.

  My phone starts to ring, and I realize I left it back in my loft. I pull myself to stand and crawl my way back through my window entry then scamper my way over to my bed where I set my peanuts down on the nightstand. When I place my knee on the mattress and lean over to grab my phone up it goes silent. The number isn’t one I recognized either, I drop the phone and launch myself across the bed.

  I grab the controller point and go in search of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Anything Christmas themed will do at this point. My eyes land on my twinkling tree with those timed lights that fade in and out in a pattern. It’s beautiful and festive, much like the presents I spent so much time wrapping to perfection.

  As I continue my search of channel surfing a knock sounds out filling my apartment with commanding authority. Rolling over, I push off the bed and move to the door. Just as I’m about to turn the lock a louder bang strikes out scaring the crap out of me. It’s the type of inspired panic that causes you to grip your chest and momentarily makes you angry. I blow out a breath of air causing the flyaway strands to fan-out from around my face. It reminds me that my messy bun was aggravated after the ET fire escape blanket burial I adorned.

  Twisting the deadbolts and unlatching the last chain, I pull the door open, and see a familiar set of ice blue beams staring at me. Brogan’s onyx black hair is without the gel today but looks like it’s been trained to follow protocol away. His stonewashed blue jeans are hugging his lower body and his charcoal grey dress shirt is untucked but casually perfect. The presentation is beautiful.