Free Chasing the Son by Bob Mayer

dressed casually in expensive jeans, and a button-down shirt, layered under a sweater. He was a page in Esquire come to life with his brown hair, sculpted cheekbones, and overall model looks. Those pages where they showed other men how they were supposed to dress and look, although most could only do the dress since looks had something to do with genetics.
    Preston Holland Gregory was the son of the senior Senator from South Carolina and chairman of the Select Committee on Intelligence. While Chad might fit in at a toga party chugging beer, and Jerrod in a library perusing literature, Preston would fit perfectly in the halls of power, which is what all twenty-two years of his life had been directed toward and his future portended.
    “Gentlemen,” Preston said, not calling his friends by their names, since he actually didn’t consider them his friends, although they didn’t know that. “My father’s aide informed me that this Dillon fellow comes from Mrs. Jenrette and—“
    “Shit,” Chad muttered. “When is that old witch going to let it go?”
    “I do not believe,” Preston said, “she will let it go as long as she breathes. Hopefully, that won’t be very much longer. Nevertheless, we are to cooperate with this Dillon chap.” He said that with the slightest of English accents, an affectation he’d started at the Institute and was growing stronger each month, since no one pointed it out to him. It might have been too much Downton Abbey ; or the fact he was heading off to Oxford for graduate school in a few months and his subconscious was preparing him. Or he might simply be one of those dicks who need affectations like a fake English accent.
    “I don’t like it,” Jerrod said, looking nervously around the bar. “We told the investigators everything they needed.”
    “There are deeper forces at play,” Preston said. “People are coming after our parents. Our parents, who are finalizing a deal with Mrs. Jenrette concerning Sea Drift on Saturday.” He nodded at Jerrod. “I know your father has a lot of capital tied up in the Sea Drift proposal.”
    “My father doesn’t exactly fill me in,” Jerrod said.
    Chad snorted in derision. “My family gave up too much on the island, but they still have a slice. An important one.”
    “Yes,” Preston said. “And your family will be well paid for that slice.” He looked at one, then the other. “We are the future. We can do much better than our parents have.”
    “Your father is a United States Senator,” Jerrod noted. “What more do you want?”
    Preston simply smiled back at him, without saying anything.
    Chad downed his drink in one quick swallow. “You two might. My family squandered almost everything.”
    Preston graced both of them with a smile. “Don’t worry old chaps. I’ve got both your interests in mind despite what our parents do. We’re the next generation of the Ring. But we’re going to be bigger than our fathers. We’re going to own everything of importance from here to Savannah. And then we move on to Atlanta and Washington.”
    “You sound like Sherman,” Jerrod muttered.
    “Fucking Brannigan,” Chad cursed. “Why did he have to show up in the Sinks?”
    “It really—“ Preston paused as a figure loomed up to their table. Dillon was wearing a long black overcoat, jeans and a black T-shirt.
    “How y’all doing?” Dillon asked, a bit heavy on his own southern accent. He didn’t wait to be invited, but slid in next to Preston, who could not hide his irritation at the close proximity of another human being and scooted away, until he was trapped against the wall.
    Dillon pointed. “Jarrod Fabrou, right? Chad Mongin? And you must be Preston Holland Gregory. Your pappy is the Senator, is he not?”
    “Did you check our yearbook photos?” Preston said, trying to reclaim some ground. “Or Google us?”
    Dillon ignored the question. “I’ve been watching y’all for a little bit. Habit of mine. In Afghanistan, I’d have