"Hey, wheres Mom's picture?"

Erika's auburn head broke through the calm waters of the Felix outdoor pool, so broad that it hung above the rocky cliff the house loomed over like a deep spring. The Felix backyard patio resembled an exotic tropical resort with its highly expensive fake palm trees, egyptian terrace chairs and end tables, along with the large pool that seemed to change colors with the moon light.

However, Damon rarely ever spent time out on the terrace. He needed some kind of release after the tiring day and had been on his way to the indoor gym - until he noticed their mother's mozaic painting was missing from the staircase walls.

Erika rested her palms on the edge of the pool and shrugged. "Father ordered Griselda to take it down yesterday thank god. I was tired of seeing that bitch anyway."

"She's our mom."

"And a former gold digger," Erika said matter of factly. "Did you know the family she came from was poor? Thats why we don't ever see mom's side of the family."

"Thats not true, Dad said they died a long time ago." Or at least thats what Matthew was saying everytime the subject came up.

"No, she dumped them so she could go live with Dad and spend up all his money."

Damon scowled but didn't bother to say anything else. He figured the only reason Erika regarded their mother with disdain was because he had been the favorite with both parents.

"So you're dating Veronica Con-slut now, huh?" Erika snickered, heaving herself up on to the edge of the pool.

Damon was going to cut things off with Veronica but as soon as he spoke a word, she had started a tremendous crying fest that he couldn't handle. "Is Jac seeing someone?" He asked Erika although he really hated to.

Erika cocked her head to the side pensively. "Why would you want to know?"

Damon shrugged. "Nevermind, forget I asked."

"She is," Erika said evenly. "And I have to say, he's the best guy she's ever dated."

"You're lying."

"Believe what you want." She said dismissively, standing up then and sauntering over to one of the patio chairs, picking up her Louis Vuitton handbag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Oh, I almost forgot," She dug through her purse until she produced a stack of Polariod pictures and handed it to him.

Damon wasn't prepared for a picture of boobs and he nearly dropped them in the pool. "Is that Paisely?"

"No, its Freddy Kuger" Erika snapped. "Of course, its Paisely."

Damon only glanced at it for a moment, deciding that Paisely didn't get enough credit for her chest and flipped to the next picture. He didn't expect to see a mugshot of the super - and annoyingly - jolly Mr. Mont Vernon. "How did you get this?"

Erika snatched the photos away from him then.  " You can see the rest tomorrow, when its on the online school bulletin board and front page of Huffington Post."

Griselda came outside then, her usual grumpy frown on as she stood in the french doorway. "Damon, theres someone here to see you. He's waiting for you in your father's office."

"He?" Damon deprecated.

Griselda sighed, nearly rolling her eyes. "A Mr. Dubois to be exact."

Damon relucantly followed the Costa Rican maid to his father's study, Erika giggling evily behind him. If Erika was so happy about a Mr. Dubois needing to see Damon, then he knew what was about to take place couldn't be good.

Matthew Felix sat at his usual spinning chair, glasses on and his organized paper work moved to the sides of his tidy desk. As usual, he wore a punctual Armani suit, swindling his thumbs. The man opposite him, sitting in one of the chairs of death - that were usually reserved for Damon and Erika - was an African American man with a Mario Brothers mustache and a bald head, wearing a suit that was nowhere near as expensive as Mr. Felix's.

The two men both turned to Damon at his arrival, Griselda quickly backing out of the room.

"How was Lacrosse practice?" Matthew asked calmly although Damon could still detect some irritation in his voice.

Damon gulped but matched his father's tone. "It was fine. Well, not really," Then he lowered his head sheepishly because he knew his father wasn't going to like what he had to say next. "Coach replaced me as captain."

There was a frown tugging at Matthew's lips but he maintained his composure, sighing deeply then. "We'll have to discuss it later," He gestured to the man in front of him. "This is Mr. Dubois, your parole officer."

The man stood up, outstretching his hand to Damon. "Pleasure to be working with you." He said stonily and Damon knew immediately he had already been brainwashed by his father.

Damon didn't move to shake his hand. However, Mr. Felix - with his eyes - bid him to so Damon reluctantly did, before taking his own seat in front of his father. Once everyone was seated, Mr. Dubois cleared his throat. "Well, I like to get down to the nitty gritty," He turned to Damon. "You're going to have to plead guilty to the charges of underage drinking and damage of city property, its the logical thing to do."

"Logical?" Damon detested. With all the wealth they had, money was the only logical answer in his opinion.

"I told you, Damon," Matthew snarled. "I'm not bailing you out of this one. In fact, I should have let you spend your days in jail, waiting for a sentence."

"Can't you just pay it off?" Damon asked, not even caring that he was practically begging his father. "I've already learned my lesson."

"Really?" Matthew gave him a steely gaze as if he were challenging him to speak again.

Damon decided he wasn't taking his father's crap at that moment. He was already going to jail and his Ivy League letters were on the way to a fire pit as they speak. He had nothing left. Not even Jac or the Lacrosse spot he had prided himself in. "Can you tell me why Mom's picture isn't on the wall anymore? Did you throw it away? "

Matthew's blank face quickly contorted into a nasty snarl.

"I know why you threw it away," Damon said loudly. "She only reminds you of how much of an asshole you are. You killed Mom. And people say I need to be locked up."

"I didn't kill that woman, she killed herself," Mr. Felix stated dismissively, maintaining a low, calm voice compared to Damon's. "She was weak and I see she's passed that on to you as well."

'And Erika just had to get all of your traits,' Damon thought angrily but didn't dare voice his opinion aloud.

Mr. Dubois straightened up even further up in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "Should I schedule another appointment?"

"No, we're going to do this now." Matthew stated, glaring at his son.

Damon tried his hardest not to break his father's gaze - but in the end, he lost. It was as if his father had the power to drill holes into your soul, something Erika seemed to possess too.

"Well, if you plead guilty to these charges," Mr. Dubois said. "Then you'll be looking at minimum time in Juvenile Hall."

"Which is...."

"Three months along with alcohol therapy."

Damon's jaw nearly dropped. "Three months?" Then he looked to his father. "Dad, you can't agree to this. I'll  be missing games. How will I get my position back if I'm not even here?" He exclaimed desperately.

In Beverly Hills, a lot of things could happen in three months. Damon could imagine that by the time he came back - if the disgusting peasants didn't kill him first - Jac would be married to this guy she had a "good feeling" about, Chris would probably be the next all star player, and Erika would have destroyed the whole human race.

Matthew clasped his hands together thoughtfully but didn't say a word.

"And don't you care about your reputation?" Damon cried. "Everyone went ape-shit when Erika shoplifted. Imagine what they'll say when they find out-"

"We'll say you went to a boarding school for the last part of the semester," Matthew said fairly. "I'll pay off anyone else who wants to say otherwise."

"But I got letters!" Damon tried again and almost let out a sigh of relief when Matthew hesitated.

"Letters?"

"From Princeton and Yale," Damon went on eagerly. "The scouts want me, Dad."

"Princeton and Yale, thats very impressive," Mr. Dubois commented and Damon decided he officially liked the guy despite the fact he was probably worth as much as the snack storage room in the kitchen.

Mr. Felix actually looked torn then - for only a second, of course. "Do you have these letters to confirm this?"

'Damn Erika to the deepest pits of Hell,' Damon scowled to himself. Although he hated to admit it, Erika was one smart bitch. "No, I don't. Erika threw them away."

"And why would she do that?" Matthew asked reminding Damon he was completely oblivious to his daughter's evil ways.

Damon tried to think of a way to convince his father of the truth but of course, he came up with nothing. He didn't have any proof that Erika had thrown the letters away except for a catty confession that only he heard. It was as if no matter what he did, his demon sister still found a way to win.

"So there are no letters." Matthew decided sternly. "When is the court date?"

"Two more weeks." He replied.

"Hmm...just in time for Spring Break." Damon hated how pleased his father was with this fact. He was starting to think everyone wanted to see him fall hard.

Once Mr.Dubois was escorted out of the house by a crabby Griselda - who was making it far too obvious that she hated her job - Damon was forced to stay in the office once more with his father. Matthew standing up then ruefully. "We will not be having any more outbursts, am I making myself clear?"

Damon stood up too because he wasn't about to get jabbed off guard. His father's nostrils were flaring and all he could see was red in his eyes. It was the look he got when he wanted someone to throw around and it hadn't changed from the time of his mother.

He thought of what he could say, 'Fuck you and your reputation,' but the truth was, his family wasn't the Lexingtons. His family was cruel and far more dysfunctional. He couldn't go around throwing 'Fuck you's like Jac unfourtanetly and even more pathetic than that, no matter what his father did, his respect for him never wavered.  "I understand."

Matthew nodded his head then in approval of his answer. "Good. I need you to start spreading this story around. You're going to St. Larks in Eastport. We need to make people believe beforehand that you're moving."

"Just be honest, Dad. You think once I'm gone all the rumors will die down about 'disrespectful' Felix children, right?" Damon asked.

Mr. Felix smiled, an expression odd on his firm features. "Thank you for stating my reasons in a nutshell." With that he dismissed him, moving to settle back down in his office.

'Three months, three months, three fucking months,' Damon just couldn't wrap his head around it.  

"Well, I enjoyed that." Erika said as Damon stepped out into the victorian-styled hallway outside of Matthew's office. She was beaming as if Harry Styles had descended from Hollywood just to tell her she's pretty - which actually happened when they flew first class to Paris for freshman year.

"Well I don't give a fuck." Damon retorted, making his way towards the long staircase that lead to the second floor.

"Aw, where are you going, big brother?" Erika called, following after him. "Going to cry over bottles of champagne again?"

Damon went down the last flight of steps that lead to the living room. At this moment, a bottle of liqour didn't seem so bad. Opening the front door, Damon stepped out on the grand porch, closing the door in Erika's face. There, he pulled out his lighter and a pack of Imperial Insignia cigarettes, glad that he'd picked up on this bad habit.

Taking a drag from the ridiculously expensive cigarette, Damon looked beyond the circular driveway and the broad Lion engraved gates that lead to the silent streets of the wealthy gated community.  Just a few blocks down would the Lexington estate, the one mansion he'd practically spent two full summers in because it was better than being at home.

So, Damon took his favorite - one year old - Rolls Royce and drove there because if he didn't, he was going to do something stupid. He would repeat the game all over again and do something that would get him into deeper trouble, not even fixing the anxiety.

Once at the Lexington Victorian-clashes-with-Modern styled mansion, Damon rung the large french engraved door, hoping Jac would open the door and not her evil mother.

Unfortunately, his luck wasn't in today.

Jeffrey Lexington opened the door, dressed in a dorky red flannel shirt and jeans so tight they looked as if it hurt wearing them. His hair was untidy and his usual boyish smile was lopsided, his eyes nothing but dark circles. "Oh, hello, Damon."

"Hi Mr. Lexington, is Jac home?" Damon forced himself to sound formal although the man in front of him was anything but. 'Shit really hit the fan here,' He thought.

"Uh, yes, she is," Jeffrey said wearily. "Just one second." He cracked the door and Damon could hear him yell, "Jac, Damon is here for you!"

"Tell him I died!" was what Damon could vaguely hear as a reply.

Jeffrey opened the door again. "Um, apparently, she died so her body is here but, um, not her soul."

"Right, of course." Damon sighed.

"Well, have a good night, Damon." Jeffrey said before quickly shutting the door.

Damon stood on the porch for a moment longer, slightly hoping Jac would stop being stubborn and come outside. Then, he left because there was only one other way to deal. There was only one other option.

'Time to do something stupid,'

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A/N:  Just a reminder, that this is PART 2 of the last chapter which is why Erika and Jac don't have a POV.

His part sucked! I'm sorry *cries* But really I'm sorry. This isn't my best writing :/

So this was kind of serious and not really humorous but I wanted to explore things with Damon and their Dad a little. 

Make sure to comment your thoughts and vote! Thank you those who support! <3