THE HARBOUR [EDITING]

The Devil You Know - Edited

AUGUST 21ST 6 PM

The Prescott's luxury beach house, a modern architectural marvel, sits majestically on the ocean's edge. Its grandeur is amplified by a spacious balcony, which stretches along the back of the house, providing uninterrupted views of the sapphire sea and golden sands. The vast panorama of the coastline serves as a living artwork, making the balcony a coveted retreat for the residents.

Lucas Prescott stands on the balcony of his parents' beach house, looking down at the beach's captivating gold sands and over the attendees of his mother's fundraiser mingling with one another.

He hates that he has to attend these disingenuous events. Rich people don't give a shit about starving children. This bunch surely does not. They don't care about anything besides themselves and their reputations. He thinks back to the last charity event his mom had put together. That one was for children with cancer— leukaemia to be exact. He remembers Mrs. Westbrook donated $350k, which must've been pocket change for her. He'll never forget the look on everyone's faces. They all looked like they'd been slapped unexpectedly. You'd think they'd be happy about it considering— but they'd all been bitter. Wishing they'd been the ones to donate that much. He'd bitten the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh.

He recalls Mayor Strong— his girlfriend's father standing up quite abruptly, tapping his scotch glass with a spoon, signalling he had something to say. Everyone's eyes fell on him. He looked around the room for a moment before he spoke, making a show of it, like the ego-maniac he is.
“I'd like everyone's attention for a moment” he said. “I'd like to thank Mrs. Prescott for putting this together, everyone for coming, and making donations towards a good cause” he said, nodding towards Mrs. Westbrook, the one that'd donated the most. “This town— It's residents,” he turned about the room. “You're all like my family, and it's wonderful to see how much we all look out for each other and for the ones that have less.” If that were true, they'd look out for the people in Flint.

“It's our responsibility,” he paused to correct himself. “My responsibility. To look out for everyone, for the little guys,” he smirked. Lucas felt he might be sick if the speech dragged on any longer. He wished pretentious Mr. Strong would stop stroking his dick and get to the point.  “While we're all here, I'd like to announce that my wife Eleanor and I will be funding the construction of the entire west wing of John Caper's Memorial Hospital,” he grinned. Lucas looked over at Mrs. Strong, who looked just as surprised as everyone else. Clearly Mr. Strong did not tell her about that. Matter of fact, he bets he hadn't thought to fund the construct until he heard about Mrs. Westbrook's considerable donation. That fucking narcissist. Lucas wonders how his family can stand him at all. Not that his father is any better.

He finds himself thinking of Mr. Strong's daughter, Daisy, who like her father, can sometimes be narcissistic. The last conversation they'd had, she tried to break up with him. After what she did! He clenches his fists. He attempted to confront her. “I don't think I know what you mean,” she said. In all his twenty-three years, Lucas had never been so tempted to strangle a woman. Obviously, he did not expect her to come clean, but hearing her lie about it hurt even more. In the end blackmail was his last pathetic resort to keep her. Lucas wonders if that's what it means to truly love someone— doing whatever it takes to be with them.