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“Texas, you say?” I hear the older Preston ask Rex curiously when I reach them. “You wouldn’t, by chance, have any relation to the Du Bois family?”
“Hell no.” Rex laughs from his gut. “Though my great grand mamaw did work as a housemaid for them back in the day.”
I pull my hands behind my back to hide my fists when I see the interest in the old fart’s eyes die a quick death, his nostrils flaring in disgust.
“How fortunate for yourgrand mamaw,“ he adds with that snobbish taint on his voice, the same one that is starting to get on my last nerve.
“Don’t be rude, Father. Mr. Jones has come a long way from his humble beginnings,” Lawrence is quick to defend.
“And if you buy his silly little club, he’ll go even farther,” his father snarls in distaste. “What was the ballpark figure you mentioned to me earlier? 1.5 billion? Yes, I do believe Mr. Jones has come alongway in his life if he’s going to effortlessly con my son into paying such an extortionist amount.”
“Con? Extortion?” Rex parrots, offended. “I’m no conman, Mr. Preston. I’m a businessman. And a proud Texan at that. One that doesn’t take too lightly when such words are used to define his character.”
“Apologies, Rex. I’m sure my father meant no offense,” Lawrence tries to do damage control before Rex ends up punching his prick of a father. “And I can guarantee that Mr. Jones is a respectable entrepreneur, Father. In fact, it’s a wonder you two haven’t met before tonight since you have so much in common in regards to building a conglomerate empire.”
“Please.” His father scoffs. “Digging a hole in the ground does not make a man an entrepreneur. It just makes him lucky. I thought I taught you better than that.”
This fucker.
“Yes, it’s true that I made my money from oil,” Rex interjects proudly. “And though many might think it’s a dirty job, I’m proud to say that my hands are clean of any bloodshed, at least. The illustrious Du Bois family that you are so fond of made their fortune selling gunpowder to both sides in the Civil War and weapons in both World Wars. I would rather be known for my luck than to have made my fortune out of the blood of the innocent.”
“Thank you, son,” the prick mumbles, gnashing his teeth at his son. “You have managed to ruin one of the few pleasures I have in life by invitingthese peopletomybox. I hope you’re satisfied.”
“One thing you have taught me, Father, is that satisfaction is something we Prestons aren’t entitled to,” Lawrence counters, with the same smile he’s been using all night.
I’m not sure what to make about the dynamic between father and son.
But one thing I can be sure of is that getting into bed with such people will not bode well for my team.
Luckily, the intermission comes to an end, and the second act ofLa Bohèmecommences. I don’t say anything when I see Lawrence excuse himself from the box and return half an hour later. If I had a father like his, I’d probably need a few minutes to myself, too, just to keep from pushing his wheelchair off the balcony.
When the second intermission arrives, Rex is the first out of his seat.
“I need to catch some air. It’s a bit too stuffy in here. Trent, will you accompany me?”
“Of course.” I nod, swiftly following him out of the booth.
Once we are outside in the corridor, away from both Prestons’ earshot, Rex lets out a frustrated growl.
“If I had to spend another second with that pompous prick, I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions. I was this close to punching the pretentious jackass in the face. And I’d hate to be known as being the kind of man who would punch someone bound to a wheelchair.”
“Wheelchair or not, I don’t think anyone would fault you for it. I think his own son was seconds away from doing just that.” I laugh.
“Yes. I caught that, too.” Rex exhales loudly as we walk down the long flight of stairs leading to a large lobby on the first floor with the rest of the opera crowd. “I guess I should be happy that it’s the son who is interested in buying the club and not the old bag.”
“About that,” I interject with my own concerns. “If you’re really set on selling, I think you’ll have to go with your original plan of casting a wider net. I’m not convinced that Preston can even make you such an offer if it’s his father still in charge of the purse strings.”
“You got that feeling too, huh?” Rex frowns.
I nod.
“I think you’re right. That jerk might have irked me to no end, but what troubled me more was seeing how his son was so submissive in his presence. I want to leave the Guardians in strong, capable hands. I’m not sure Preston has the stomach for it if he can’t even stand up to his own father.”
“Agreed,” I chime in.
“I’ll make some calls,” Rex says steadfastly. “I have a list back at the office of a few investors that might be interested.”
“Good. If I were you, I’d invite them to our first game next week. Put them all in one room together so they know who their competition is.”
