EMMETT:

    The few weeks after the death of my father went by in a blur. The day after Christmas, my dad Reggie was found fatally shot at his diner. The place was supposed to be closed for the day, but Pops had made the unfortunate mistake of going there to check up on something. His body was discovered by a woman who tried to go in and have dinner that evening, thinking the diner was open because the lights were on.

    Since my husband Vince was a police officer, I got daily updates on the investigation, but so far they hadn't come up with any suspects. Nothing was taken, including whatever cash was in the register. The security cameras were destroyed so no footage could be recovered. I'd been nagging Pops to get digital cameras for years now, and I tried not to get mad over the fact that he never took my advice. 

    With my only brother in prison, I was left solely in charge of organizing the funeral. The community mourned the loss of a beloved member; Pops's diner was popular with everyone in town. I was the one who inherited the restaurant, which I had no intention of operating in the long run. Still, for now, I didn't want to leave all of the employees without an income, so I agreed to manage the place until it could be sold to a new owner.

    "You know what I keep thinking of?" my best friend Henry asked me as we sat at the diner one cold January evening. With Pops gone, the place was much quieter than usual. "I keep thinking of that woman at the Halloween fair."

    "What woman?" I asked.

    "You know, the… psychic," Henry whispered as if it were a dirty word. "Remember what she told me? Everything will turn upside down; secrets will be revealed. The powerful will fall from grace; and before the end of the year, somebody at the fair will die at the hands of another. And then your dad was shot right after Christmas. Isn't that a crazy coincidence?"

    "Yes, that's precisely what it is, a crazy coincidence," I said firmly.

    "I've been looking for her ever since, but it's like she turned to smoke," Henry continued. "None of the organizers knew how she got to the fair, she was never issued a permit to be there."

    "All the more proof that she is a hack and a grifter," I said.

    "I'm sorry, I don't want to upset you even further," my friend apologized. "It's just… it's been driving me crazy ever since this happened. I mean, she made it sound like the murderer was also at the fair. Doesn't it sound that way to you? 'Someone at this very fair will die at the hands of another here'?"

    "Henry, the entire town was at that fair, so it doesn't really narrow it down," I said, beginning to get impatient with my friend for carrying on with the topic. 

    "She was so cryptic," Henry said. "The only person I can think of… when she was talking about the powerful falling from grace… I thought of Douglas Whitfield. He's gotta be the most powerful person we know. I mean, he's a senator, for god's sake."

    Senator Whitfield was Henry's next-door neighbor, who spent most of his time in D.C. but always came home for the holidays.

    "So what, you think he killed my dad and that's gonna be his fall from grace?" I asked Henry sarcastically.

    "No… I'm sorry, ignore me. Like I said, I just can't get this out my mind."

—

    Shortly after our father's death, my brother Daryl was released from prison. Before his nine-month stint in the clink for battery, my brother lived in Philadelphia, and I had no expectations of seeing him on Stag Meadow Lane. Daryl never liked the suburban life and much preferred to be in the city, doing all sorts of crap that I didn't even wanna know about, especially since I was married to a cop.

    However, one afternoon, I drove back home to find a man sitting on the driveway to Pops's house. Pops owned #6 Stag Meadow Lane – the house Daryl and I grew up in. My husband Vince and I had recently purchased #8, which is where we lived. I got out of the car to check what the person on Dad's driveway wanted… and I realized it was my brother.

    "Daryl?! What're you doing here?" I asked, somewhat tactlessly considering everything that's happened recently.

    "Good to see you too," my brother replied as he got up off the concrete. "Sorry to hear about Pops."

    "Yeah," I muttered, not sure what else to say. This was the part when another set of siblings would probably hug, but Daryl and I weren't like that. Growing up, I was always jealous of my best friend Rory and the relationship he had with his older brother Taylor (made even worse by the fact that I had a crush on Taylor back then). My brother and I were never close, especially since I came out. Daryl never said anything to me, but I knew he and his homies with weren't "down with that gay shit." Still, he was my brother, and he'd also just lost a parent. I decided to be nice so I invited him over to my house, to get away from the cold.

    "Nice crib," Daryl said, looking around my home. Vince was still at work, so my brother and I were alone.

    "Thanks. Can I get you anything?" I offered, expecting him to pick a drink.

    "Some food if you got some, man. I'm starved."

    Thankfully, I'd brought some food home from the diner, so I gave my brother a burger and watched him wolf it down in less than two minutes. He still wore his big puffer jacket, which looked like something an unemployed 35-year-old like my brother should not be able to afford.

    "When did you get out?" I asked.

    "Yesterday," Daryl replied with his mouth full. "Spent the night with this chick I know in the city and I came straight here."

    "I'm sure you wanna visit Pops's grave. He's buried next to Ma, like he wanted to…"

    "Yes," he interrupted. "And I was also thinking I can stick around for a while. At Pops's house, since it's empty and all."

    "You wanna stick around here, on Stag Meadow Lane?" I asked in disbelief.

    "Yeah, man. I'm tryna clean up my act and shit. And I think this'd be a good place for that," Daryl said, pointing out the window at our idyllic street.

    "Daryl, you've tried that before and you always leave. You hate the suburbs," I reminded him.

    "It's different this time. I'm tryna reconnect with the boys," my brother said, and I knew which boys he had in mind: his two teenage sons, both from different baby mamas. Ashton and his mother had moved to Pittsburgh years ago. I assumed Malik and his mom still lived in Philly, but I was soon corrected on that.

    "Tanya and Malik just moved to the area, they're just two towns over," Daryl said. "So I figured if I stay here at least I can be close to one of my sons."

    "Well, Pops left the house to both of us," I revealed to my brother. "So I can't stop you from staying there. Well, maybe I could, but I'm not going to. If you want it, it's yours for now."

    "Thanks, bro," Daryl got up and smiled. Then, he did something very unusual: he walked up to me and gave me a brief hug. And then he added, "You think you could pick me tomorrow and help me move?"

—

    The following day, I drove to Philly to pick up my brother and all his stuff, which amounted to two duffel bags and a bunch or trash bags full of clothes. When we got to Pops's house, Daryl unpacked in his old bedroom, which didn't look all that different from when he was in high school.

    "Listen, d'you ever use your old room?" my brother asked me.

    "Not really. Why?"

    "I was just thinking, when the boys get here, if it's alright for them to sleep in your room?"

    "The boys are coming here?" I asked incredulously. Daryl's sons had never visited; they always stayed with their moms. I myself had never even met them.

    "I ain't got nothing scheduled for now," my brother explained. "But I will invite them to come stay. I just figured they might not wanna sleep in Pops's room."

    "Yeah, sure, they can have my old room. I'm just… surprised you're thinking of having them over after all this time," I admitted.

    "I told ya, man, I'm turning over a new leaf. I did nine months and I had plenty of time to reflect and shit. I don't wanna die one day just like Pops and my sons never even knew me."

    Daryl sounded uncharacteristically passionate as he said that. He was clearly getting heated, cuz he took off the hoodie he was wearing. For the first time now, I was seeing my brother in a tight white T-shirt that clung to his body. Normally he wore baggy clothes, but his current shirt revealed just how much he'd buffed up.

    "You've been doing more than just reflecting in prison. Did you work out while you were there?" I asked, impressed by Daryl's physique.

    "Yeah. Not much else to do anyway," he laughed. I helped him unpack and when we were done he said, "Thanks man, I appreciate it. Lemme treat you to something now," and he pulled out a bottle of Hennessy.

    "I don't really drink much, Daryl," I said. It was only four in the afternoon, even though it was pitch dark out already.

    "C'mon, I'm tryna say thank you here. Have a sip," he insisted and he poured us two glasses.

    "So weird being here without Pops," I said as we drank.

    "I know, right?" Daryl looked around the house, as if expecting our father to walk in through the door any moment now.

    Even though I wasn't much of a drinker, I found the alcohol helped with all the things that had been bothering me for a while now. One glass turned to two, turned to three… until we were nearly done with the bottle. Daryl had football playing on the TV and even though I wasn't paying attention to the game, I was grateful for the background noise. This… this almost felt normal.

    "Listen, man, not to kick you out or nothing, but I'm bout to go take a shower," my brother announced as soon as the game was over. "I ain't had a good shower since I got out, and not to sound like a woman, but FUCK I'm looking forward to it."

    "Yeah, cool," I said, finding it a bit hard to get up off the sofa. "I'm gonna go. Vince's working late again tonight, but I'll order some stuff for dinner."

    "Hey if you want you can stay here and order," my brother suggested.

    "Are you just mooching for a free meal?" I laughed, seeing right through him.

    "You just drank half my Henny. You owe me," said Daryl, taking off his shoes.

    "I thought that was a thank you for helping you move?!" I protested.

    "The first glass was a thank you, not the rest of the bottle," he kept fooling around. I pretended to have a problem with that, but I was actually happy not to dine by myself yet another evening. Vince had been working late more and more lately, and especially in the wintertime, the nights felt lonely when I was by myself at the house.

    Daryl left to go to the bathroom, and I tried to decide what to get for dinner. I didn't want to pick my brother's food for him, so I waited for him to get out of the shower and tell me what he wants. After about 20 minutes, he still hadn't come back, but I figured he must be done, especially since I couldn't hear the shower running.

    "Daryl, you done? What d'you want for dinner?" I asked, walking up to the bathroom. The door was wide open and the room was steamy, but there was no one in it.

    "Daryl?" I said, knocking on his bedroom door. There was no response, and since I didn't know what to do, I pushed the door open a little bit.

    The sight that awaited me took me by surprise. My older brother was lying stark naked on the bed, with his big, hard dick in his right hand. His other hand was holding his phone, playing porn. Daryl wore a pair of headphones over his head, which is probably why he couldn't hear me. In awe, I couldn't stop staring at my brother's body. He was always athletic, playing sports in high school and all, but he had taken things to the next level lately! The ridges between his abs looked inches deep now. I realized he'd also gotten a few more tattoos since I last saw him; not that I EVER got to see this much of him! As much as I knew that I needed to turn away, I couldn't help but analyze my brother's muscular body, not to mention his precum-oozing dick. I'd seen bigger dicks in porn; but never in real life. Other than my husband, I'd only ever hooked up with a few guys in my life. The last time I remembered being this impressed by someone's dick size was when I first started jacking off with my Rory back in middle school, who was surprisingly well hung.

    Since I knew my time was limited and that I had to leave soon before I got caught, I instinctively reached for my phone and pulled it out of my pocket. Making sure it's on silent, I pointed the camera at my brother's naked body and snapped a few pics.

    "I can always delete them tomorrow. I'm sure I'll delete them tomorrow. Just in case," I thought, trying to convince myself that I'm not such a bad person.

    What happened next was so fast that I barely had time to wrap my mind around it. My brother's dick exploded, shooting out white cum that landed squarely all over his naked torso. While he bust his nut, Daryl closed his eyes and flexed his abs, making them look even more impressive. Without thinking, I switched my camera to video mode and quickly recorded the cumshot, including the moans my brother was exuding. He was clearly trying to hold back from being too loud, but he just couldn't help himself from getting lost in the moment. 

    Just like him, I was getting carried away. I was tempted to get down to my knees, crawl to Daryl's bed, and suck up every bit of jizz that was on his body. Shaking that deviant thought from my head, I put my phone away and I quickly backed away from the door before I got caught. As silently as I could, I rushed to the kitchen and waited for my brother and his dinner order. The entire time while we ate, I had to hide a throbbing boner under the table from Daryl. My dick simply refused to go down until I returned home (hiding my crotch behind my jacket) and I got a chance to rub out a load on my marital bed, all the while watching the video of my brother cumming.

    "He really has changed," I pondered, thinking about Daryl's new body as well as his new attitude. And now he wanted to bring his two sons over to Stag Meadow Lane as well… "This oughta be interesting."​