Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit: That Which Destroys Me with The Alternate Ending Read Free Page A

that I run five miles a day help calm my demons, help soothe the hate that I’ve always had to keep reined in and in all honesty it isn’t working anymore.
    After my scholarship was pulled because of the injury, my father brought me to the Dallas area a nd tried to get me enrolled in several bitch ass schools. But when you come from playing quarterback for LSU, your square shape doesn’t fit in everyone else’s peg holes—well not those holes anyway.
    We agreed on Texas A&M where I threw myself into every damn socialite and sorority girl’s pussy within a seventy-five mile radius. That and my studies, acing shit left and right until I’d graduated first in my class with a bachelors in Science of English, then my masters in communication.
    With my father nearing his seventies, he eagerly handed over the power of our prestigious, and highly recognized family publishing business—to me, his single living heir.
    In less than a year, I’d handed almost every one of the authors my dad represented over to the very capable hands of a very different publishing firm than the one I had Jacobs headed towards becoming.
    I kept two authors that pops had kept hidden in the basement. One, a very cutting edge and no-holds barred writer that, quite frankly, didn’t give a flying fuck if you liked his work or not. Scott’s books were out of this fucking world. His shit was raw. It was pure. It was fucking real. I kept him.
    The other was an erotica author, but Melanie’s shit was much darker than the Fifty Shades books. Again, raw, gritty, erotic talent.
    Melanie, Scott, and I packed up the whole fucking Dallas building and moved to NYC. The three of us slapped Jacobs on Madison Ave. Between the three of us, we brought in fifteen new upcoming erotica or cutting edge authors—no cookie cutter bullshit, no happily ever afters. Fuck that. Those were a dime a dozen. And I wanted Jacobs Publishing to be one of a kind!
    That was almost ten years ago. Now I have more than two hundred authors, every fucking one of them think outside the box and more than bend the rules in the writing world. Seventy-eight percent of them have been at one time or another on bestseller lists.
    Victor was once a millionaire. Now he was a fucking billionaire, many times over. Did he and Josephine spend that money like it there was no goddamn tomorrow? Fuck. Yes.
    Did they approve of the direction I took their prominent publishing business that had been in the family for over a hundred years?
    Fuck. No.
    “Pops,” I nod, “Josephine…” I kiss her weathered cheek, “You’ve aged like shit, my love. Glad to see it.”
    “Wesley.” My father chastises. “Do not speak to her that way. We’re here to discuss business, not squabble like children. Keep your petty childish behavior to …”
    “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I glare into his eyes. “There is no goddamn business for us to discuss, old man. You’re over eighty years old.” I glance at his crotch, then look over at Josephine, “Speaking of shit -  Josephine, is he in adult pampers, yet?”
    In a flurry of mink, diamonds and curses, she stands quickly moving to exit my office. Before slamming the doors, she calls over her shoulder, “Victor I’ll be in the car, dear. I refuse to be treated this way by the son of one of your whores.”
    The doors slam behind her as I move around to sit behind my massive mahogany desk, steeple my fingers and commence glaring at my father.
    After I’m finished with our glaring contest, I jerk my head towards the double wood doors, “Leave. Now.”
    “Son, acquiring an intern is the last business request I will make. JPH has always participated in, and been recognized in the Publishing Intern Accreditation Society. My grandfather, your grandfather and I helped not only make PIAS the respectable organization it is; Wesley, we built it. It’s important to at least continue, even if you do have them proofreading smut.”
    The sinister laughter that rumbles from me