Chapter 12 - The Auction of the Golden Child’s Pride
In November, thirteen months after the fateful birthday party, the final public chapter of the old Sterling regime came to a close.
The commercial real estate housing The End Zone Lounge was officially sold at a municipal tax auction to an independent craft brewery developer.
I drove past the property on a Tuesday afternoon on my way to an engineering site visit.
The old, tacky neon sign bearing Jeff’s name had been torn down and thrown into a rusted industrial dumpster in the alley. The windows had been stripped of their dark tint, replaced by wide, open glass panes that let the sunlight flood into the dining room.
Standing on the sidewalk across the street was Uncle Jeff.
He was wearing a worn nylon windbreaker, holding a clipboard for his auto-parts delivery route, watching the construction crew rip out the remnants of his failed kingdom.
He looked small. He looked tired.
He turned his head and saw my SUV idling at the traffic light.
Our eyes met across thirty yards of asphalt.
There was no arrogance left in his gaze. No mocking smirk. No toasts to irrelevance.
There was only the hollow, silent acknowledgment of a man who had gambled his entire family’s loyalty for a handful of dust—and lost.
May you like
The traffic light turned green.
I pressed the accelerator and drove forward into the sunshine, leaving the past in my rearview mirror where it belonged.
