Chapter 1

                On the second level of the underground parking lot, a gentle breeze floated over spot 201, reserved for Richard Brothers. The dimly lit corridor emitted musty air tinged with the smell of a desert breeze from the cool morning. There was a gentle hum of a Mercedes as the motor quietly shut down. The shiny black car reflected the overhead lamps, illuminating the stunted height of the ceiling. Cracking open the car door, a black loafer stepped onto the recently swept floor. Standing straight up, Richard collected his brief case and listened for the arrival of his siblings, John and Paul Brothers.

                The oldest of the three brothers, Richard had greedily grabbed the best looks from his parents. Standing six feet tall, from his thick black wavy hair, to his piercing blue eyes, strong chin, and perfectly symmetric physique, he was the most handsome of the brothers. His demeanor was marked with unabashed confidence and enduring perseverance. Being the oldest brother, always at the mercy of his envious siblings, was the burden he had to bear. Richard had known he was blessed from birth, and never made excuses for all of his lustrous assets. Single at thirty-four, he was still in pursuit of the perfect mate. It was not that he was so self-absorbed, but rather that a sudden spurt of heart-throbbing, heart-stopping love had yet to occur. He had always thought he would see her and he would know—that an anvil would strike, and his eyes would partially fall out of his head. He was still waiting.

                Pulling back the navy gabardine sleeve on his Basile suit, he double checked the time on his Piaget. It was Friday, eight o’clock in the morning. Smiling, he heard the loud roar of John’s five year old Chevrolet swerving into spot 202. Brother number two had arrived.

                Emerging from the sedan, John, one year younger than Richard, pushed back his light brown hair, rearranged his pin dot tie, and grabbed his wrinkled khaki poplin jacket. He was the shortest of his brothers, stretching to five feet nine inches, but that was when he was wearing his black patent Florsheims. His body was lean, and his cheekbones were high; his brown eyes were set closely together, as if he was always intensively studying a legal document. He felt cheated. He was the second born, and should have been at least an inch or two taller. Maybe his mother forgot to eat when she was pregnant. In spite of his undistinguished appearance, he always sported a wide smile. What he didn’t receive in good looks, he had received in brains and the blessing of a beautiful wife, who had given him four healthy, lively children.

                “For goodness’ sakes, fix your tie,” laughed Richard, observing the remnants of jelly donut drizzle. “You look like you just walked out of a dryer. Your suit is so rumpled, the judge might ask the clerk to have it pressed. Or, I know, you think this will help you get sympathy from the judge and make our clients think you don’t earn much money.”

                “Give me a break,” answered John. “It’s Friday, and I had to drop off the twins at school. Just as they were getting out of the car, they leaned over to kiss me; poof, there went the contents of the jelly donut, right down the front of my favorite tie. I licked most of it off at the first traffic light. This is my lucky tie, and I can’t go to court without it.”

                Further scrutinizing his younger brother, Richard noticed a hole in John’s shoe and a dark brown spot on the back of his pants.

                “What else happened this morning?”

                “You have no idea how hard it is to get out of my house. What with my four kids, two golden retrievers, and a most beautiful wife, my hands are full. So, Maria needed a little help with the pooper scooper. I grabbed it, and it seemed to have a mind of its own. It scooped a hole in my shoe while fully loaded, went flying into the air, landed behind me, and ricocheted off the ground and into the back of my pants.” Shrugging his shoulders, he explained that he was in a hurry to leave, it was too late to change and besides, the rest of his suits had been sent to the cleaners.

                “Get the receptionist to spray Lysol on you before you enter the court room,” advised Richard.

                A slight gush of stale air rose, and they heard the roar of Paul’s Land Rover arriving. Gently maneuvering his SUV into spot 203, he grabbed a pile of cases and shoved open the car door with his leg. Standing up and smiling at his brothers, he quickly bent over and retrieved several cases that had slipped out of his arms.

                “Good morning, guys,” he smiled. “Looks like I am the last to arrive. Did you have a great evening? Well, all I can say is having wife number four surely keeps my juices flowing. We didn’t even get to dessert, at least the gooey kind, if you know what I mean. Yes, we did have a type of dessert, but it sure wasn’t fattening. I just took her right there at the table and…”

                “Yes, we get the picture,” said John, looking a bit miffed.

                Paul, aged thirty-two, was the youngest of the brothers, first in line when they handed out the brains, but last when it came to personal relationships. Just under six feet, his handsome face was shaped just like Richard’s. They could have almost been twins, except Paul had another thirty pounds added to his frame. It’s not that he appeared fat, just heartier, which could be attributed to a steady stream of wives, each trying to outdo the last, both in the bedroom and at the dinner table. His large car reflected the results of his previous three marriages, with one child from each wife; now wife number four had been hinting that she wanted a child. Every night, just as he was about to fall asleep, Veronica began a low, seductive clicking sound—tick, tick, tick. Perhaps this was her subliminal way of reminding her spouse that, at thirty years of age, her time to have a child was running out. The oversized Land Rover, with three rows of seating, should be able to handle whatever came his way. Paul was just thankful that Veronica was allergic to dogs; one less mouth to contend with.

                Unable to erase his smile, he joined his brothers as they briskly walked through the corridor and into the waiting elevator. Joining several other passengers, they were whisked to their tenth floor space at the Summerlin Office Suites. One of the most prestigious and few skyscrapers in Las Vegas, their father, Ted, had taken a lease the day the building opened. Yes, the three brothers did not fall far from tree; they were all apples on the same attorney tree, and Ted Brothers, their father, was the top limb.

                The broad, double oak doors touted the sign “Brothers Attorneys-At-Law”. At the top of the list was Ted Brothers, Esq., followed by Richard, John, and Paul.

                “Just because my name is the last on the list, doesn’t mean my sign should look like this,” Paul grumbled, pointing to the Esq. that had become slightly ajar, dangling precariously from the door.

                “I will have Monica fix it, I promise,” said Richard, as he opened up the door to their law office. The waiting room was filled with clients. Unable to tolerate Paul’s sour disposition, Richard grabbed him and kissed him right on the lips. That woke him out of his sulking mood and certainly made for great entertainment in the waiting room.

                Monica, the office receptionist and manager, promptly stood up and smiled broadly. “Bravo,” she said to her three bosses, “This is a great way to start our Friday. Now gentlemen, before you get comfy in our offices, your father called and has requested you adjourn to the conference room. He said he wanted to talk to you, and that you should all be in the same room.”

                Like three little puppy dogs obeying their trainer, they walked to the conference room. It’s not that they were intimidated by Monica’s statement, but rather that they trusted and respected her commands, especially when they came from their father. Standing five feet seven inches, she had taken charge of the office for the last five years. Smart, but lacking the funds to complete law school, she did the next best thing and took a job running a law office. Over the years, as raises added to her bank account, she had begun classes and promised herself she would one day get that law degree. For today, at age twenty-six, she was satisfied running the office for the three brothers and studying in the evenings. Her dark skin and Amazon queen stature were arresting to both men and women. On several occasions, her mere prescience had stopped office brawls and soothed the most bruised egos while clients waited for their appointments. Monica took her position seriously, and spent every moment devouring the law. Whatever information came her way, she stored in her well-equipped brain, knowing that one day all of this knowledge would make her a successful attorney. In terms of money, her goals were a bit loftier than her bosses; she would put her degree to use helping the poor black communities, where excellent legal advice came at a price too high for many to afford