He was an eye of the hurricane, drifting in the middle of both his parents arguing. They were both in the kitchen, yelling at each other, while Denny sat a couple of yards away from the ranch, near the riverbank. With his legs and arms folded, he relapsed to the horrific events that went on today, the darkness of the night enveloping his fears.

"Please, Louis, try to understand," he heard his mother say from the window. "This will shock Dennis for the rest of his life! Why should we care about money right now?"

"Because it's our life he's fucked over!" Louis shouted back, as Denny could hear the disappointment in his voice. "How are we supposed ta compensate this man's rehab that insurance an' the company won't cover? Now we've got to pay for the ranch, the marina, an' now this?"

It was overwhelming for his pa. Denny knew this beforehand, still making sure he caused trouble even now. How could he have done something so stupid and unsafe to Mister David, who was now probably in the hospital. Thankfully, they heard the news that he hadn't died from blood loss, but needed extensive surgery from doctors and nurses.

The bad news was...Mister David filed a lawsuit against Denny for workplace negligence. Denny also lost his job at Blazen Materials, with a report that it'd be unsafe for the plant if he kept working there with little experience. This accident caused Denny not only to lose his influx of money to the family but also to make them pay more than they already should.

All in all, things had turned for the worse.

"I've got to sell it," Louis continued, talking about the marina. "It's already damaged to shit, so what's the point of tryin' to keep it running?"

Denny tried covering his ears as best he could, but the echoes of Louis's disapproval kept drilling into them. He lay on the ranch hill, eyes facing the moon as it reflected off the Mississippi. The river water was serene tonight, opposite to what was going on inside the ranch. It tempted Denny to jump in and keep swimming.

Yet, that would mean he'd be running away from everything. He'd be dodging the problems he caused, the damage he dealt with, and the anxieties he thought of for the future.

On the other hand, would running away solve the problem? If he didn't exist along with family and friends, there'd be no way of him screwing them over.

My life is cursed, Denny realized, digging his fingernails in the dirt. No, it's not the world, it's me. I've been given a great life, but purposely choose the wrong decisions every time. It's my fault that I'm cursed.

So, what should he do now? He couldn't go back inside, since Aurelia and Louis were still quarreling with each other in the kitchen. Maybe it was best if he slept outside tonight, as the skies above advised Denny that it'd be clear and quiet. He could listen to the Mississippi, and life across it in New Orleans.

Speaking of New Orleans, Denny's idea came back for the moment. Thinking on it more, he figured that there weren't many other options he could take. To be honest, he couldn't think at all about everything that had happened today. All Denny could understand was that he was tired right now.

He rested his head on a dirt mound, noticing it formed from the hurricane and the rising river water. It was surprisingly comfortable, easing Denny's racing emotions and thoughts. Tomorrow he would apologize to Mister David and his family, and start looking for a new job. It would be tough, but it was what Louis would tell him to do in this situation.

That was...until the grass rustled.

Why was he hearing it rustle? Of course, the grass rustled, as winds always picked up more because they were near the Mississippi. But the rustling came from the west, which differed from Denny's observation of the wind from the east.

This was a different noise...unnatural.

Denny got up, seeing a tall figure wearing a dark-blue hoodie and black shorts. He looked about Denny's age, wearing a ski mask and backpack. The figure was also surprised, not noticing Denny before he walked up near the ranch.

It's a robber! Denny thought, anticipating his next move. And he's armed!

"Shit," the robber muttered, raising his switchblade at Denny. "Shit, shit, shit. Don't move or scream now, awrite?"

"And what?" Denny retorted, unafraid for some reason, "You'll stab me? If ya didn't see me before, you must be stupid enough wit' that knife."

The robber gasped, waving his switchblade at Denny even more than before.

"You're Denny Martin!" the robber declared, "The fucker who injured my pa! Knew I had the right house!"

Is this guy Mister David's son? Denny thought, startled by the discovery. And how did he find our ranch? I only met the man today!

"That means yer here to rob us, aren't ya?" Denny responded, taking a fighting stance. "Get back at Denny, huh? Didn't think you'd meet me outside, huh?"

"What about it?" the robber son exclaimed. "Of course I binlookin' for ya, but I ain't here to rob ya. I'm only here to teach ya a lesson, and I didn't even hafta sneak inside the house."

Flinching, Denny got ready for an attack from the robber. But it didn't happen, as he kept standing near the bottom of the hill, watching Denny.

"Well den, get down here!" he declared. "Can't have a fair fight when ya got the advantage!"

"Fair fight?" said Denny, holding in a laugh. "Says the dude who came wit' a knife to a fistfight. Pretty stupid, huh?"

His continuous taunts angered the son even more, who threw the switchblade on the ground. Whoever he was, Denny could tell he loved his father Horace. Doing things this way was foolish, but somehow, Denny could understand the reasons why. After all, he was the cause of their family problems now.

"Let's talk some more, awrite?" Denny tried to say, raising his hands up in conceding fashion. "Listen, I never meant to hurt Mister David. I lost my head, which made him lose his hand. But why do we gotta resolve this wit' violence?"

"Fuck you mean?" the son stated. "My pa loved workin' at Blazen, an' now he can't without an extra hand! Besides, we were already screwed with Ida, and now you've screwed us even more! Why shouldn't I beat yer face in?"

He's a lot like me, Denny thought. Tryin' to make his dad proud, being hurt from the hurricane. I can see now that I've hurt other people besides my family.

But...it doesn't feel right. I don't feel anythin' for this guy now, even though I hurt his dad. He still came here to break into my house and hurt me. Why should I sympathize with him?

Unless...

"Where ya from, in New Orleans?" Denny asked, another cunning idea forming in his mind. "Downtown? Uptown? Lakeside? Riverside?"

"Downtown?" the son responded, a bit confused by Denny's question. "Wait, why do ya care?"

"You know Tulane?" Denny asked. "You go dere?"

"Hell nah!" the son answered. "Well, I do know some frat guys dere. Again, why the fuck do ya care, or I'm gonna stop talking!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," Denny quickly stated, thinking of what to say next. "You wanna make some money, rite, to help out yer dad? You weren't just gonna beat me up, you were gonna rob us too. Why else would ya bring the ski mask an' switchblade?"

The son stayed silent.

"I can help with that," Denny resumed. "Ya see, I gotta plan myself, since Ida screwed us over too. My plan involves selling alcohol to frats in Tulane since the school year is starting now. Since ya told me you know people there, I could use your help to tell them about it."

The son remained silent, ski mask facing the ground. It seemed like he was pondering the idea but later threw it away like it was nonsense.

"And I'm the stupid one," the son replied. "Isn't that illegal? Why the fuck would I get involved in a business like that?"

"That's obvious," said Denny, a smile creeping from his lips. "Of course ya wouldn't. But what if I told ya I was the one bringing the drinks there? All you'd have to do is advertise. There'd be no trouble, no risk involved."

The son scratched his chin, asking, "How?"

"Ever heard of Martin & Sons?" Denny questioned him. "It's a marina owned by my pa. I know how ta drive the tugboats, which is how the drinks will be brought to Tulane. In and out, that's how it'll go, to every party that needs 'em."

"Tugboats," the son repeated, chuckling to himself, "Ya know, it sounds all good, but won't there be an issue of trust? How do ya know the frats won't rat you out once the cops start askin' questions?"

That's a good point, Denny thought, realizing the guy was smarter than he originally thought. It'll have to be a frat we trust. Well, a frat that you trust, my friend.

Telling the son this, Denny also added a couple of other details that they'd share. They'd be buying the drinks themselves, distributing them to the frats in a form that would be suitable for their kegs. The money would go fifty-fifty, which seemed more in the son's favor because he was taking less risk. But this was Denny's strategy, all to try to appease the son of the deal and that the plan would be good enough for him to join in.

"So, what do ya say?" Denny asked bluntly. "Are ya in?"

Pondering this, the son looked at Denny, his ski mask still on. It bothered Denny that he was making a deal with a guy not even showing his face, as well as the one who was trying to hurt him and rob his family. In all oddities, it was fortunate that he came here, someone who Denny could use as a tool for his own desire. He didn't need to trust or make friends with him, as this would be a business relationship.

But the son was hesitant. Perhaps he thought the same of Denny, thinking of a way to screw him over with his own idea. All Denny needed to do was think a few steps ahead, always. He had to be alert, observing everything, noticing anything that could come in the way of the business. And this guy...he had to be the first obstacle.

"Well?" Denny asked again. "Say no, and I'll be happy to take ya on. This way, I can-"

"I get it, awrite?" the son interrupted, climbing up to Denny's position, taking off his ski mask. Now that Denny could see his face, the son had lighter colored skin than his father, along with sharpened facial features and a flat top hairstyle. He looked to be a bit younger than Denny, albeit taller and bigger-looking.

"I'm in," said the son, shaking hands with Denny to officially join the business. "Name's Freddie, but don't go thinkin' our beef is over yet. This is solely because of money."

"Of course," Denny replied, pleased with Freddie's decision. "I couldn't agree more."

With that, the business was established, even though Denny was worried about what would happen next. Yet, this was the first start, the way to either great success or great failure. Still, as he thought before, what did he have to lose now?

The spirits around Denny continued to laugh, as the tragedy was entering its first act. The Mississippi said nothing, resting in the night and relaxing under the moon.

Denny paid no attention to it. There was nothing good about looking back at the river now.