Sedona Law 6 by Dave Daren (ebook pdf reader for pc .TXT) 📕

one point, Phoenix had decided grass was bad for the environment, and had requested the family’s lawn be replaced with a more environmentally friendly choice. I never did get the reasoning behind that.

We walked the drive and were greeted by a milieu of various acquaintances, every last one of them asking to see Vicki’s ring. It took us fifteen minutes just to get through the yard and in the front door.

As soon as we opened the door, the blast of live music hit us full in the face. My family believed in the sort of original boho chic method of decorating, pastel colored walls, with murals by my sister, along with do it yourself furniture restoration projects. But, it was hard to pick this out among the throngs of partygoers that filled the house.

Everywhere we looked, people milled around, drinking home brewed kombucha from paper cups and eating vegan hor d’ourvres on disposable plates. My family wasn’t vegan, per se, but they did believe in natural food.

Right now, the going soundtrack was the Beatles song, Penny Lane. Although this version was curiously improvised with distorted guitar, likely courtesy of some screamo band guy that I had gone to high school with.

My sister Harmony gushed when she saw us. Her near prison stint had done something to her. She had always been friendly, but it had given her a zest for life she hadn’t had before.

More recently, Vicki and I had had dinner with her, and she explained that while she of course didn’t kill the art critic at the center of her legal case, his death in itself had been difficult on her sensitive artist’s soul. In the months following the case, she had read a lot of self help books centering around the whole finding the silver lining theme. It had helped her reconcile her own near prison experience and live life to the fullest. Now, she was this constant burst of energy and zest.

“Vicki,” Harmony hugged Vicki and Vicki just laughed.

My sister had always been a physically affectionate person, even when we were growing up. Vicki wasn’t particularly like that, but she had gotten used to it being around Harmony.

“So good to see you,” Vicki greeted her back. She gestured toward Harmony’s skirt. It was a cotton flared, with Pollock type paint splatters.

“Is that yours?” Vicki asked.

Harmony worked as an art teacher at a private school, but had a side gig designing and selling clothes on Etsy.

“It is,” she laughed. “What do you think?”

“Love, love, love,” Vicki enthused.

I held back a smirk. My fiancee and sister were an interesting combination when they got together. Vicki was an intelligent, ambitious well spoken, serious career woman. But when she got around my sister, she suddenly turned into a Kardashian. Their relationship confused me. Vicki and Harmony descended into the land of fashion in hyperbole, and I gave Vicki a quick wink and dismissive pat on the shoulder and disappeared into the rest of the party.

I had almost made it to the living room, the beating heart of the party, which was now live broadcasting U2’s Walk On, and Phoenix found me.

“Hey,” he shouted above someone’s emotional Bono imitation, “I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” I shouted back.

I knew what this was about.

“Come outside,” he yelled.

He carried an unmarked brown beer bottle, that I knew came from an unlicensed brewery somewhere around here. My dad bought from one. I got the impression then as I did now, that said unlicensed brewery was actually a client of mine that was officially known to sell kombucha. But unofficially, well… the less I knew, the better.

My brother took a long sip of the bottle as we tried to make it through the throngs to the backyard. We finally found a semi quiet space on a wooden bench overlooking my dad’s new garden.

“So,” Phoenix rubbed his hands together. “I’ve been thinking about your investment offer.”

“Yeah,” I said. ”It’s not a bad deal. I’ve done it with another company, just not my own money.”

“Whose?” he asked.

“A very affluent zebra,” I replied. “So, clearly, I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s the thing. I’m in.”

“You’re in?” I felt the side of my lips rise in a grin.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re not going to tell me what to do and shit, right?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” I said.

“Cool,” he held up his hands in a fist bump. “Let’s make movies.”

I bumped his fist and nodded. “Let’s make some movies. You have a business plan?”

“I’m writing it now,” he said. “I talked to AJ and Leila like you suggested. They’re a little skeptical, but they’re in.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know Leila too well, but AJ’s a very practical, organized person. She’s probably skeptical because the plan’s disorganized. Get it organized, she’ll be in.”

“Good tip,” he nodded.

“How much you need?” I asked.

“I...I haven’t figured that out yet,” he smiled ruefully and ruffled his hair.

“Come up with a budget,” I said. “Get it to me. I’ll look it over, suggest any changes. Once we’re on the same page, I’ll write a check. I’ll also get the small business paperwork started.”

He sighed. “Yeah. That’s a good thing, because I don’t know how to do all of that.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “What’s your first project?”

“That’s the other thing,” he said. “AJ is working on a screenplay draft of Harmony’s story.”

“The art critic who was murdered by the mob?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s a sexy story. Change a few details so that the people around here aren’t too bored with it.”

“What’s Harmony think about that?” I asked.

“She’s into it,” his tone was qualified. “She thinks it’s a cool idea, but I think she wants to see the final script to make sure it’s not embarrassing or