“There’s something I never told anyone else...another part to the story.” His Grandfather said then darkly. "Something about Wes and Jackson I've kept to myself all these years."

Wes sat right back down. He, like all those descended from Jackson Castor, were huge drama whores. They’d get a whiff of something juicy and they’d go to it like a moth to a flame.

Wes was not proud of that.

Yet he still leaned in toward his grandfather, completely drawn in with an eager smile as his Grandfather looked off with a misty look in his eye.

“I was outside of my father and uncle and their relationship.” His grandfather said quietly. “The world saw the great General Hawthrone and his Key, but I…” He shook his head and lowered his gaze. “My entire life, Uncle Wes was like...a puppet that had been hung on the wall to be left alone while the puppeteer danced with his wife. Dad - Keys like yourself - they don’t depend on Locks, Wes. Locks, however, can not function without their Key. Wes always waited to be picked up again by Dad...a toy waiting to be played with, watching his owner from behind a glass door on a shelf, just...waiting for the rest of his life. Hoping to be of use, hoping to be paid attention to. It was very sad.”

Wes squirmed, uncomfortable. He knew Locks were basically useless without their Key’s but putting it like that kind of made it...sad. Less cool. He always imagined them as loaded guns in their Key’s hands, waiting to be shot. This wasn’t so inspiring. In fact, it was deeply depressing. “And did your Dad, uh, ever give him attention?”

“Dad was...well.” His grandfather frowned. “He was a lot like your brother, Portland.” He said finally.

“Porty’s a bag of dicks.” Wes said flatly.

“Yup. God bless him and his beautiful, silly children,” He said, the sound of the very same children squealing with delight outside, “But that boy is indeed a bag of dicks.” His grandfather said with a nod. “So was Dad. He used Wes when he needed him, but otherwise...Uncle Wes just waited around on the couch. Waiting. Rotting. I would hate to think the grandson I helped raise would allow another human being to suffer like my beloved Uncle Wes did, especially the grandson named for him.”

Wes’s jaw dropped open. Did he just-?! He snapped it shut and fixed his grandfather with a blank look. “This is emotional blackmail.”

The older man didn’t look the least bit bothered. “It’s the only way to get a man in this family to do anything productive.” His Grandfather said simply. “Blackmail.” He paused, “Or, you know...wet his dick.” His grandfather said sagely.

“Well don’t be afraid to hire me a hooker to get the point across, Grandpa!” Wes snapped irritably.

“Poor Uncle Wes.” His grandfather said, louder this time. “Poor, poor Uncle Wes, who only wanted to be of use-” He said, his voice rising as he spoke. “My poor sweet Wes!”

“Okay, thanks!” Wes growled as he stood, “I’m going now!”

“Hate to think you’d be a bag of dicks as well, WES.” His grandfather called after him. “MY SWEET GRANDCHILD, MY SWEET GRANDCHILD NAMED FOR MY POOR, SWEET UNCLE.”

“BYE, GRANDPA.” Wes called as he stomped out of the room, waving to his grandma in passing as she came in the backdoor, a trail of her tiny great grandchildren behind her as they all nosily made their demands for lunch known.

Wes stomped over to his brother’s trailer and pounded on the door before he threw it open and waltzed in. Porty sat on his couch, on hand hooked into the top of his pants while the other poked a toothpick around his teeth.

“I’m going to the station now.” Wes said plainly.

“M'kay, bye.” Portland said, not looking away from the tv.

Wes’s temper flared instantly. “You better drive me down to the station or I’m going to to tell your wife what happened to her Aunt’s recipe box!” Wes hissed, his brother’s mouth dropping open as he looked to Wes, aghast. “Or maybe I’ll just tell her how you’ve been craving her family’s special roast beef jelly dish!”

“You whore!” Portland hissed in return, leaping up from his seat to grab his keys.

“Why I gotta threaten you every damn time, Porty!” Wes cried out angrily as his brother stomped past him and down the steps of his trailer, “Why can’t I just ask for a lift and you just do it!” He said, throwing open his arms.

“Because I ain’t a taxi service, Wes!” Portland snapped back as he went over to his truck, quickly checking to make sure there were no kids hiding underneath or behind the back wheels.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you insisted on being the only one of us to get our license!” Wes snapped right back.

“YA CAN’T DRIVE, WES! You have no depth perception!” Portland shouted angrily as he climbed into his car, Wes climbing into the passenger seat.

“I have depth perception, asshole, I just don’t have very good depth perception!” Wes stressed. "And I had a jeep, remember!"

"A jeep you wrecked!"

"A jeep I wrecked avoiding YOU IN THE ROAD, ASSHOLE!"

Portland screwed up his face and made a bratty noise as he turned his head to look out the back window to the mirror tapped crudely to the tree outside, making sure no one scurried behind his car as he pulled out of the driveway very slowly.

“The fuck are you coming home for an hour for?” Portland growled then. “You should have at least stayed the night?”

“I got shit to do, alright?” Wes snapped.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You always got shit to do.” Portland mocked as he waved to the children gathering on his grandparents front porch, each holding a paper plate with a sandwich in one hand and a fist full of napkins in the other.

“Shut the fuck up.” Wes growled. “This time I do have shit.”

“What shit you gotta do?” Portland asked, throwing him a suspicious look as they started down the road.

Wes clicked his tongue and scowled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest before he glared out the window. “I got some Lock that’s been on my ass and I got to find a way to shake him off.”

His brother grunted. “You know, some fuckers will pay through the teeth to get keyed, you know- sexually.” His brother said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at him before he looked back to the road. “I heard that’s what Yuriy is up to these days.”

“Yuriy. My Yuriy?” Wes said, taken aback. His brother nodded slowly. “Where’d you hear that?”

“His sister came into Aunty Mallory’s shop the other day and they got to talking - Yuriy finished his apprenticeship and I heard he’s making fucking bank doing underground shit. Sexually.” His brother said, finishing in his slow, suggestive tone. “I can get his number if you’d be interested in that. Maybe then you can finally afford to buy the kids Christmas gifts instead of handing out fucking handmade cupon books to kids that can’t even read yet.”

Wes clicked his tongue. “Sounds complicated.” He said lowly, narrowing his eyes as he watched their little town go by outside. “I couldn’t poke into people’s heads like that, but I can totally see Yuriy doing it...he was always messing with people.” Wes said in a distracted tone, looking toward the direction of the dirt path he and Yuriy used to walk back toward Yuriy’s family home.

“Well, now he’s doing it and making a shit ton of money.” His brother said firmly. "He just bought his Mama a new car and all he had to do was key some lock. Sexually."

“I’m not going to whore out my brain, Porty!” Wes growled, glaring at his brother. “I’m not going to Key up ANYONE, let alone a whole bunch of people! I’m not that kind of guy!”

“Alright, stop being so sensitive, God!” Porty said with wide eyes, like he was amazed at being argued with. “I was just suggesting a way you could make some cash! Sorry for helping!”

“You should be!” Wes snapped.

“Well maybe if you had some more fucking ambition than being pizza bitch, I wouldn’t have to try and help.” Porty said snottily.

“I’m a pizza bitch?!” Wes gasped, laughing, “Pot and kettle, fucker!”

“I MANAGE MY ENTIRE LAKESIDE PIZZA, FUCKWAD!” Porty shouted, “YOU JUST PUT ON THE FUCKING CHEESE ON SOME FUCKING CHAIN STORE!”

“I WORK THE REGISTER!” Wes screamed back. “THAT'S A FUCKING TRANSFERABLE SKILL!”

“AIN’T NOONE GONNA HIRE A FUCKING KEY ANY TIME SOON, WES!” Porty screamed as they came to a sudden stop at a stoplight. Wes stilled, his brother’s red face slowly draining of its color as he stared forward. He was quiet for a minute. “They’re tightening the leash, kid, heard this register thing is just the start.” Porty said, quieter this time. “We’re all worried ‘bout it. Worried…” He frowned as the light turned green. “Worried that you won’t be able to provide for yourself.”

Wes clicked his tongue and looked back out the window. “I’ll land on my feet.”

“No shit, man.” Porty said with a little laugh, “We’re all just hoping it’s something...legal.”

Wes’s face screwed up. “Didn’t you just suggest I work at an underground sex club?”

“We all know the sort of illegal work you would probably find yourself mixed up in wouldn’t be as lucrative as what Yuriy does, that’s a fucking matter of fact.” Porty said, pointing to Wes. “If you going to go illegal, at least make bank doing it so you can afford a good lawyer.”

“Thank’s Mom!” Wes said sarcastically. “God, you sound just like her.” He said, scowling as he looked back to the window. “Save up to afford a lawyer, Wes! Always know where all the exit’s are, Wes! God!”

"Fact is it's time to grow up Wes," Porty said, pursing his lips. "time to start acting like a man and not some spoiled little shitbird." Porty said as he pulled up to the train station, slowing down as he approached the sidewalk, "Life is 'bout to get real real for Keys, and no matter how much you try to deny what you- OI! LET ME STOP THE CAR FIRST!"

Wes stumbled as he hit the pavement, just barely catching himself before he fell into a parked car. He flipped off his brother then and walked briskly up to the sidewalk, going toward the small building nearby. His brother cussed him out and told him to call their Mom, which Wes angrily screamed he would when he got home.

God, Wes missed his hometown.