Royal Digs Read Free Page A

the
family.
    Even now, after all these years, with my
wealth and power at its greatest heights ever, I stood to be taken
down...by my own son. I’d survived his attempt on my life when he
was only five, but he wouldn’t survive my attempt on his.
    Allowing my mind to refocus on the task at
hand, I took stock of my royal transformation. From Mob King to
Drag Queen. Not bad for an old guy.
    I’d already caked on the foundation and
powder, just as I’d learned from YouTube. My fake lashes were
secured. Fake tits in place and other parts held in place beneath a
very uncomfortable thong.
    Tonight, I would debut as Star Fish, The
Duval Street Cabaret’s newest Queen. But underneath the glamour and
gogo boots, I was about to play and win a very dangerous game.
    Checking one last time to make sure the key
was securely hidden in the fake bottom of my wig box, I puckered up
for the mirror, like I soon would be for my new fans, and waited
for my nephew Clitopatra to give me my cue.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
     
     
    Q ueens like
Clitopatra sleep till way past noon. And hanging in their world,
meant I was sleeping in later too. We’d gotten home from her show
sometime after 3 AM, and by lunch, it was still only Bunny and I
awake in the Bellesconi Key West mansion.
    Well, let me correct that. Roman and R had
been up at their usual daybreak, had their breakfast and had then
gone to R’s lab to do who knew what. Fact was, I probably didn’t
want to know till I had to.
    But I had learned this morning that,
apparently, The Bellesconis had a more than keen interest in
presidential politics. At first, I thought it was just one of
Bunny’s quirks. Actually more like an obsession.
    She read absolutely everything on this year’s
presidential race. But from what I’d seen, it appeared that the
Republican Candidate, Governor Rett Crumley, of Massachusetts, was
her primary concern.
    Not a day went by as far as where he was
concerned that, she didn’t mutter a few stern expletives. Whether
the word of the moment was Bastard, Fuck Cluster or Son of a Bitch,
I got the impression she was after.
    And all this time, I thought it was Cluster
Fuck. Although I much prefer the ring of the Bunny-speak version -
Fuck Cluster.
    Whichever term she used, Governor Crumley was
a schmuck. A dark and very evil schmuck.
    “If it’s not Central American Coffee Cartels,
it’s Vegas Casino Kings and the Chinese government,” Bunny said,
slamming down the Wall Street Journal on top of her laptop.
    The fact the laptop was closed meant she’d
already read the morning edition of her favorite news source, the
Huffington Post. Apparently, she wasn’t too happy with those
stories either.
    I’d already read both papers online, so I
knew she’d be whooped up by the time we had brunch.
    “I don’t understand what our family has to do
with all of this,” I said, fairly certain I didn’t want to know,
but also certain I needed to know.
    Bunny took a large swig of her Bloody Mary
then bit off a large piece of the beef stick the butler had added
in with the celery stalk.
    “As you’re learning, my dear, in today’s
world, most everything and everyone can be bought. And
nothing...Nothing...is as it seems.”
    “Take this cup of coffee for instance. The
beans ground for this very cup more than likely come from fields of
Salvadoran oligarchs who use their coffee fortunes to fund the
right-wing death squads who’ve killed tens of thousands of people
for decades,” she said, then pushed away her cup as if the thought
of drinking it disgusted her.
    Suddenly, coffee didn’t have quite the allure
it usually has for me either.
    “So what about Casino Kings and Presidential
Races? Where do they fit into the mix?”
    “For starters, it’s Casino Magnate Ben
Adelyang, one of the wealthiest men in the world, due to his
ownership of The Sandelsohn Casino Corporation, who’s one of
Governor Crumley’s largest donors. The Coffee Cartel families are
next on the major donor