Chapter 3 Ben
Ben
Henry and Beverly Donovan had recently moved into a sprawling estate on seven acres of land in the Queensridge area of Las Vegas.
To call it a home sometimes seemed an understatement with seven bedrooms, ten baths, four oversized garages, elevator, home spa, and basketball court.
Not to mention the glorious views of the Strip and luxurious golf courses, it was more like a resort.
As Ben drove through the east-side gate he circled his BMW convertible around the stoned driveway and pulled into the garage behind a black Navigator he knew belonged to his brother. All the family should be here today, at least all of the Las Vegas Donovans.
Uncle Henry was the second oldest of the six Donovan brothers—whom the family affectionately called the Seniors—born to Dorethea and Isaiah Donovan.
Together with Aunt Beverly, Uncle Henry had three children, Linc, Trent and Adam.
Ben’s father was Everette. His mother was Alma and she was Ben’s favorite person.
The Seniors were born and raised in Texas where their grandfather and great-uncle started Donovan Oilwell, the seed to the family’s billion-dollar empire.
Three of the Seniors—Albert, Henry and Everette—remained in the family oil business, expanding the company and building their families.
Henry and Everette in Vegas and Albert, the oldest Senior, in Texas.
While the two youngest brothers, Bruce and Reginald used the Donovan name, their strong work ethics and good business acumen to branch out into the media industry and were based in Miami.
Then there was Bernard who’d shifted his interests toward marketing and advertising and had his own firm in Seattle.
There were more cousins, his great-uncle’s family, who lived on the east coast as well, and some Donovans as far away as the UK. And even though their family was spread across the world they tried to get together for a reunion at least once a year on the private island they owned.
“I see you decided to join us this time,” Camille said, stepping out of her husband Adam’s SUV and smiling at Ben.
He quickly moved to her leaning in to kiss her offered cheek. “I’ve missed a few gatherings, I admit. Don’t shoot me.”
“Not me, but Ms. Beverly might.” She talked while opening the back door and reaching inside to undo the car seat where Josiah, their four-month-old son, sat.
Adam came around the truck, offering a hand for a shake. “You know we were about to come out to Agosta Luna to get you.”
Ben took Adam’s hand and then pulled his cousin in for a hug. He laughed at the threat to come out to the development where he lived, but Ben knew it was no joke. His cousins, with his brother leading the pack, would have done just that.
“No need. I’m here now,” he told him.
“He’s getting big,” Ben said when they all walked toward the house.
He was looking down at the baby seat that Adam now carried.
Josiah was the best of his parents, with Camille’s creamy mocha complexion and Adam’s deep brown eyes.
When he lifted one chubby hand and swiped at one of the toys hanging from the handle of the seat, Ben couldn’t help but smile.
Babies did that to him. They made him want, to yearn, to think about something he was beginning to realize might never happen for him.
“Whoa, the gang’s all here,” Trent said when the three of them walked through the house, coming out onto a covered patio filled with people.
The sun had just begun to set and warm golden light bathed the entire area, pouring through the columns, out onto the lush green grass. A few feet away was an enormous pool and just beyond that was Uncle Henry’s private golf course.
Ben walked onto the patio. He instantly found his mother and kissed her on the cheek. “See, I’m still alive,” he told her.
Alma hugged her son tight. “Good thing. I didn’t want to have to come down to that office and grab you up.”
Ben laughed.
“I told you she was looking for you.” That was Max speaking as he wrapped an arm around his wife, pulling her close.
Deena Lakefield had swept Max off his feet more than a year ago, bringing the man out of his dark past and giving him a bright future. Sophia cooed in the walker just beside the lounge chair they both sat in.
Another family, he thought with an inner sigh.
“I heard there was a mistrial,” Everette said coming up from behind and slapping Ben on the shoulder.
“Hey, Dad. Yeah, mistrial was declared on Tuesday. By Thursday morning the DA had a slew of motions delivered,” Ben said taking a seat and the bottled beer Trent—who had joined them in their corner of the patio—offered him.
“Wow, they didn’t waste any time,” Trent said. “What were the grounds for the mistrial?”
Trent wasn’t a lawyer, but he was a professional private investigator and an ex-Navy SEAL. He knew his way around the criminal element of the world just as Ben did.
“Jury couldn’t make up their mind especially after one of the jurors suddenly became pro-defense.
The judge didn’t think sending them back to deliberate another day or so was going to help, especially since the DA was making some sounds about jury tampering,” he said, not thrilled to be discussing work at a family function.
But if there was anyone he could talk to with the hopes of him understanding, it would be Trent.
His cousin nodded, rubbing a hand over the growing goatee he was cultivating. “Vega’s got a reputation,”
Ben nodded. “I know.”
“So how are you going to get him off this time?” Max asked.
“Why would you try to get him off this time?” That question came from Tia, Trent’s wife.
Tia was an ex-supermodel, but she still looked like a very current supermodel to Ben. Long legs, gorgeously toned body and a face that should be classified as a lethal weapon. She was madly in love with Trent and their son Trevor, hence the reason she was now only a part-time model.
“It’s my job,” he said with a shrug knowing instinctively it would spark more conversation.
His family was very supportive of his career choice. Now, the direction in which he’d decided to study law had come as a surprise to some, but Ben didn’t want to sit behind a desk all day reading boring contracts or negotiating corporate legalities. He wanted to make a difference.
“Vega’s not a good guy,” Tia said solemnly.
“You may be right,” Ben stated. “But everybody deserves a defense.”
Trent rubbed his wife’s shoulders, more in an attempt to tell her not to push the issue than to comfort. “And he’s going to get an excellent defense with Ben on his side. I came down to the Justice Center a couple days of the trial and caught you in action. Pretty good, little cuz.”
The words filled Ben with pride. Affirmation that he was doing a good thing was always welcomed. Even though he had no intention of representing Vega again. Somehow, Ben knew if he’d said that the door to even more questions would open.
“Enough talk about business,” Alma said. “I want to talk about the upcoming family reunion.”
And so the conversation shifted with the women making plans and the men trying to keep their mouths shut for fear of suggesting the wrong thing.
When they figured they were no longer needed a few of the cousins moved into the den where the pool table was located. Linc took the liberty of racking the balls while Adam went to the bar and began pouring himself a drink.
“FYI,” Max said coming into the room and giving Ben a playful slap on the back of his head. “Mom’s got some woman she wants you to meet.”
Ben groaned while the others laughed.
“The only remedy is to find your own woman,” Linc offered.
Linc had been the first of the Triple Threat Donovans to cave into marriage with the lovely Jade. They now had twin daughters, Torian and Tamala, and lived in their own lavish home a few miles from the Strip where Linc’s Gramercy Casino was located.
“I don’t want to be set up,” Ben said grabbing a stick and moving to the end of the table.
“But it’s been too long since she’s seen you with a date. You know how she gets,” Max told him.
“It’s your fault, getting married and having a baby,” Ben replied to Max. Then he lifted his stick and pointed around the room. “It’s actually all you guys’ fault. Getting married is like an epidemic in this family now.”
“Nobody’s getting any younger,” Adam added with a chuckle.
“Donovans don’t fall easily, but when they do, they fall hard,” Linc said with confidence.
Trent leaned over the pool table, lined up his shot. “He’s right. Once you get a taste of the right woman, you’re not gonna want to let her go. Marriage keeps her there forever.”
Ben was already shaking his head. “Have you checked the divorce rate lately? Marriages aren’t lasting as long as they used to.”
“That’s because people are rushing in with blinders on instead of marrying for love,” Adam told him.
Of the bunch gathered here, Adam would be the one talking about love. Even though Ben had no doubt all of his cousins loved their wives explicitly, because Donovans were just loyal like that. But the others weren’t the wearing-feelings-on-their-sleeves type of men.
Offhand Ben wondered what type of man he would be, or what type of woman he would possibly fall in love with.
As he took a sip of his rum and Coke, a picture of a woman flashed before his eyes.
Icy gray eyes, luminous skin, and a smile—which she never directed at him—that stopped his breath and hardened his body each time he’d been blessed enough to see it.
He immediately began to choke.
“Can’t handle your liquor, little bro?” Max asked clapping him on the back.
Ben covered his mouth and tried to catch his breath. Visualizing Victoria Lashley when he was thinking about the woman of his dreams, was not a good thing.
Hours later, after they’d eaten their share of barbeque and grilled corn—Ben’s favorite—the Donovan family all sat on the back terrace still talking, kids falling off to sleep or just enjoying each other’s company.