Chapter Twenty-Four
“f*****g c******n. f*****g movie contract,” Orin Fairchild hissed.
If it hadn’t been for that sneaky bastard, Fitzhugh Aloysius Wellington—f*****g Sand— he thought, the c******n wouldn’t have shown up a week after his granddaughter arrived, offering a deal he couldn’t refuse, and he’d have that little b***h on her knees right now, sucking his pecker like Sharon had munched his pecker when she was young.
“f*****g Aloysius Sand and his money!”
Orin Fairchild paced the room, turned out the lights, and closed the blinds to early evening. He sat down in his favorite easy chair before the television, sucked air, picked up the remote, hit the power button, selected the DVD option, and engaged the disk.
“Get in here, sweetie. The movie is coming on,” he called toward the
