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John Ross · **02-11-2015, 11:26 PM**

Dallas, Texas:

I lay naked in my bed, starin' up through the skylights at the stars above. It's after midnight and a beautiful brunette sleeps beside me. I have no fuckin' idea what her name is. Beth maybe. Brittany. Hell, it could be Susan. In my life, their names have never been important. All that does matter and all that ever will matter is that I've got what I needed. My father taught me a long time ago, women are on this Earth for the simple act of relievin' a mans stress. Nothin' more, nothin' less.

In my business, especially with it at a standstill the way it is right now, stress is at an all-time high. The Saudi's are pumpin' oil like there's no tomorrow and ain't no one buyin' oil from an independent. A week ago, a month, a year- I could rely on my father to help me decide what to do. I buried him last week. Now he lays stone cold dead and its all on me.

Oil is in my blood. It's all I've ever known. Jack, my grandfather, was a wildcatter in the 30's. He had a nose for oil. He drilled his fair share of dry holes too, but there ain't never been a wildcatter like Jack Ross. He founded the company I know run by myself. Ross Oil. When other independents sold out to Standard Oil and other large global companies, Jack stood firm. He refused to be bought. When he died back in '71 Ross Oil became split down the middle between my father and his brother.

John Ross, my father, was a hell of a business man. He could buy and sell any man three times over before the guy even realized what the hell was goin' on. He used to love to tell me, “J.R., blood may be thicker than water, but oil is thicker than both.” I never fully understood what the hell that meant until the day he told me the story of how he forced his own brother out of the company.

During the oil crisis in the 70's, Uncle Jim was determined to sell his half of the business to Standard Oil. My father knew that if that was allowed to happen, it was only a matter of time before he'd be forced to sell out too. It was the first of many schemes my father concocted. It was a brilliant scheme, if even a simple one, in my own opinion. He offered his services, pretendin' to support Jim's efforts to sell. He was the liaison between Ross Oil and Standard Oil. He'd bounce between the two companies (or so it would seem) negotiatin' this and that. Purchase prices, Jim's cut of particular leases, that sort of thing. After a few weeks, Uncle Jim decided he was ready to sign. Pops drew up some legal lookin' documents appearin' to be from Standard Oil attorneys. Jim signed page after page. He even read the first twenty or so pages of signed material. As time went on, he read less and less. All pages, signed, sealed and delivered. What Jim didn't know at the time, is that ole John Ross stuck a page deep within the others that was signed by Uncle Jim. The page basically stated that James Ross was forfeitin' his birth right- Ross Oil- to my father.

Uncle Jim was out while John Ross became the sole owner of Ross Oil. Oil rebounded, as it always does, in the late 70's and 80's. Pops took a small independent oil drillin' business global. That's when the real Ross Oil was born.

Now though, as I look out among the stars, I can't help but feel a terrible sense of dread. It makes me wonder if Pops ever felt this way. It makes me wonder how he kept it goin' when it seemed all hope seemed lost. What would John Ross do, if he were alive right now? The oil business came to a screechin' halt in Texas. Nobodies drillin', nobodies pumpin'. The Saudi's continue to flood the market with their oil and its squeezin' Ross Oil dry.

The woman beside me rolls over and places her arm on my bare chest. ”What ya thinkin' bout, JR?” she asks as I continue to stare into space. I can't help but wonder if, somewhere out there in the vastness of the universe, there wasn't another John Ross that just buried his father. Just slept with the eighth... or ninth... different woman this week that has his fathers oil company on the brink of collapse.

”My father,” I respond, not even sure why I answered.

”What was he like?” she asks.

I start to remember why I always kicked them out afterward. ”Darlin', we're done here. I got what I wanted. You ain't gotta go home, but you sure as shit ain't stayin' here.”

I roll away from her and walk to the bathroom to shower. After I'm done and dried off, clothed and scented, I head back out. The woman is gone. I grab my car keys and head down to the parking garage below my high-rise penthouse. I wasn't even sure where I was going or why. I don't even know how I ended up there. I pull my Corvette to a stop and stare at the mirrored facade of the Ross Oil building.

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[Image: 55a3c00b6adfc4c1c69e8f60b4225d24.jpg]

I park the car and stare up toward the offices. I don't know how long I stood there. It felt like hours but easily could have been seconds. The skyscraper towers over me like the ominous shadow of my father starin' down at me. Lookin' at it, is like lookin' directly at him. I walk toward the building and as I near the front entrance, I could almost swear I saw his reflection in its mirrored facade instead of mine.

Moments later, I exit the elevator into the offices of Ross Oil and I'm struck with a ping of heart wrenchin' pain. A large painted portrait of my father hangs in the lobby.

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I stop and stare at him, and swallow the lump in my throat. His memory hangs over me. The greatness that was John Ross threatens to crush me beneath its immense weight. I enter my office and grab a bottle of my fathers finest Bourbon. I then stare out the window at the dark city of Dallas, brightened by its lit up skyline. As I drink and stare out the windows, I ind myself fumblin' with my cell phone. For more than a year I kept this voice mail. I hit play, just to hear his voice, ”John, its your Daddy, I just signed the papers. Welcome to Big Oil. It's a proud day, son.” I choke back my own tears as I hit end. My father was my hero. Without him here to guide me, to seek advice from, I stare out these large glass windows and below me I see nothin' but an abyss of blackness. Ross Oil is on the brink. What would John Ross do?

About a year ago, he was sickly and could no longer run the company. Cancer. He chose to hand the keys to the Kingdom over to a young, as yet unproven man in his early 20's. A man born of his blood. A man raised by him. A man that was trained in the ways of a slick oil man. But, I'm not my father. I'm not as slick, not as connivin', not nearly as powerful as he was. These old Texas oil men have no reason to respect a 20 something still wet behind the ears.

That's when I remembered another of the many things Pops taught me: “Power isn't somethin' you're given. It's somethin' you take.”

|| Two Hours Later ||

I sit at a table. A card table. Once again, I have no idea how I'm here. I don't remember leavin' my office and I damn sure don't remember drivin' to wherever the hell I am now. I certainly don't remember pickin' up the bitch rubbin' on my cock as I play cards.

It's high stakes, that much I know. I have twenty grand worth of chips that I just shoved forward into the pot. I have 5 and 6, both spades. The flop is a good one for me. 8 and 9 of spades with a Queen of hearts. The turn is a bust. Nothin' that helps me but I increase my bet anyway. The man across from me, every bit the ladies man I am is busy laughin' and havin' himself a good ole time as he matches my bet.

”Honey, if you want to get in bed with 'Big Oil', you're gonna have to wait. I got a lot of money in front of me and not even you are more important than money.”

”Big Oil? Is that what you call it?” she asks as she continues to rub.

”Darlin', it wasn't me that named it.”

She finally walks out of my view, doin' who cares what. Time for the river card. Seven of spades. I'll be damned if I don't have a straight flush to the nine. Tough to beat in Hold 'Em. Of course my adversary may have the ten, yet I highly doubt out of nine cards, seven of them are all sequential spades.

”I'm goin' all in.”

I push the rest of my chips in. Equivalent to about 87 grand.

”We got ourselves a gambler, ladies! Get the man another Bourbon on the house!”

”That is why we're here right? To gamble.”

”What's your name?”

”John. John Ross.”

”You mean, Ross Oil, John Ross?”

”In the flesh.”

”What do you say we raise the stakes just a little bit?”

”Your name?”

”Dallas Zade.”

Seriously? A man named Dallas, in Dallas.

”What kind of stakes?”

”Half of Ross Oil.”

Truth be told, Ross Oil ain't worth the cost of the paper the deed is printed on.

”What makes you think I'd gamble the one thing that made my father famous in Dallas?”

”Because we both know its about as worthless right now as tits on a bull. You need the money to keep her afloat. I don't need shit.”

”Then why the hell...”

”Because I have the money to keep it runnin', Mr. Ross. Three months behind on your office leases. Literally no money comin' in. Your employees are all laid off. You need me, John Ross. I don't need you.”

”I'm puttin' up half my company, Mr. Zade. You don't have a damn thing equal to that.”

”I'm a generous guy, Mr. Ross. I'll throw in a million, to bolster your pride.”

That arrogant son of a bitch. Normally I like that sort of thing. But not the way he does it. I mean, it almost makes me...

”Deal.”

Who the hell just said that?

Shit.

I said that.

”I call.”

I lay my hand down. Straight flush to the nine. He does the same.

”Straight flush to the Jack, Mr. Ross. Looks like we're business partners.”

I sit there stunned. Confused. Tryin' to figure out how I just lost half of Ross Oil to this man that doesn't know shit about oil.

”Jenna, take good care of Mr. Ross. I have got to go since now I have work in the morning.

“Mr. Ross, I'll see you at... noon.”

In seconds, the place is empty. I sit alone with just this Jenna girl who seems afraid to say a fuckin' word. I can't really say I blame her. After a few minutes I stand up and start to leave. I fumble around in my pocket and retrieve my cell, then dial up my private detective.

”Digger, find me all you can on a man named Dallas Zade.

“Yeah, by noon tomorrow.

“No, meet me at the office.”

After replacin' the phone in my pocket, I turn to Jenna who walks behind me.

”Jenna right?”

She says nothin', only noddin' her head.

”You ever seen 'Big Oil' in action?”

It was a legitimate question. I never could remember all the bitches I've fucked.

”Naw, but I hear it can spray all over.”

”Oh, you heard right. It's a real gusher.”

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