what was savannah's idea of a perfect evening? being off work and spending it with the best company - herself. stopping at the store to fetch two bottles of her favorite, cheap wine, her plans were to throw on some stupid show and unwind. the girl was on her way back to her place, deciding to take another street for a potential short cut that she'd deeply regret. hearing a loud thud, blue orbs roll as she pulls her car over to the side to inspect the damage. yup, her front tire was flat as a pancake.
while in the midst of getting her old tire off, she hears another vechicle approach her's. turning around, she sends them a sarcastic look. "nothing to see here besides the result of a fight between myself and a pot hole, can you guess who won?"
she's on her way to work but she so wishes she wasn't—the weather's so nice tonight, the last thing lori wants is to be stuck behind the bar and deal with middle-aged men hitting on her for the millionth time this week. maybe she should get a new job, something back of the house, less possibility of punching a customer in the face. she doesn't need the threat of pressing charges. again.
she pulls over when she spots savannah, anything to push the start of her shift off. she gets out of her car and walks up to the other woman. " glad to know that someone is having a worse day than me. no offense, " lori chuckles and crouches next to savannah. " need help with that? haven't changed a tire in ... a very long time but—four hands better than two, i guess? "
The bartender doesn't question it when Santiago orders a club soda with lime, used to the variety of non-alcoholic alternatives the man rotates through every few months. He sips on it as if it's some expensive cocktail, and hears Gene rant on and on about the things they usually complain about, laughing into his glass so as not to give the man the satisfaction of knowing he is entertaining.
"Crowds, drinks and dancing? How could I ever miss it," Santiago replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He glances over at his cane that is left leaning against their table and can already feel it tangling in around the legs of a hundred strangers under flashing lights. "Sounds like a nightmare, but my cousin Soraya is adamant that we should go. Something about me needing to have a little fun, or whatever."
" i know, exactly your scene, " gene replies, laughs a little, even though the idea of the aforementioned crowds, drinks and dancing is far from amusing, considering how it's very possible, probable even, that gene will have to show up. nadia will do her thing of catching anyone with their lips too loose from alcohol and gene will just—be there, make the perfect small talk and pretend he'd rather not be anywhere else in the world. if santiago were also going, the whole thing could be a little less insufferable. maybe.
gene's phone buzzes a couple of times, he checks it quickly. it's his wife and the dreaded confirmation. something about his suit and the cleaners. let the driver know. " looks like i just got sentenced, " he says, puts his phone away, suddenly too appalled to look at it anymore. " i am going. " and gene looks far from happy about it.
he snorts, can't help the smile. " well, maybe she's right. you've been awful tense lately, have you noticed that? " their conversations have suffered as well, not as fun, lost a little bit of their edge. " what is it this time? drowning in bullshit work? " if it's that, gene can sympathize. " anything i can help with? "
THIS WASN'T LUCIA'S FIRST NIGHT DEDICATING spare time [that she didn't have] to her own personal inquiries into the Decker family. It was an inquiry decided of her own volition, one she wasn't being billed for, and one she presently possessed little to no evidence to prove. Lucia knew better than stirring up shit without the means to back it up... but she also knew her gut to rarely be wrong— possessing a near perfect track record.
At the sound of her father's voice, her eyes flickered upward, surprise temporarily clouding her visage. Her expression softens, a tired smile forming on her lips. The lie comes just as easily. "Just wrapping up the final details of an estate dispute," she offers, followed with a weary sigh. "Mundane stuff, but necessary." Eugene always said good bye when she stayed late like this. Since grade school student, Lucia was prone to exceptionally late nights, Eugene often discovering her mid-study session or immersed in a book she just couldn't put down. On occasion, he'd join her. The memory warms her, a stark difference from the guilt accompanying her easy lies. "You heading out?"
he can tell she's lying—not that she has obvious tells, he's just had her entire life to learn when she's covering something up. gene chooses not to ask now, though, he's tired and it's way too late to start anything, it can wait until the morning. but he will ask—if it's got anything to do with the firm, gene needs to find out one way or another.
he does trust his daughter. he does.
" need another pair of eyes on that? " and yet. so perhaps it's not that late, sick curiosity wins and who knows, maybe gene will be able to coax something out of her. best case scenario, it really is some bullshit case she doesn't want to admit is dragging on for longer than necessary. " i don't mind looking, even if it's boring, " he shrugs, like he's not trying to pry. part of him tells him he shouldn't.
" yeah, i'm out of here. i've been stuck at the desk for far too long, " gene sighs, feels the tiredness pulling at his eyelids, the hours of looking at his screen because a company they're representing keeps digging a deeper grave for itself. " if you feel like wrapping up, maybe you'd like to get a quick bite together? " he still offers, promises to himself that once they step out, he'll stop thinking and talking shop. " we could swing by the diner. i'm starving. "
it takes every ounce of self restraint nadia has to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her skull the second her husband comes into her office, despite his good intentions. "believe it or not, i just spoke to joanne — which is why we're going." every word is laced with blatantly obvious sarcasm, but it's not malicious — she simply knows gene is well aware of her inherent need to keep her finger on the pulse, so the fact that he even needs to ask about her intentions is baffling. "she called to let me know it was all just a big misunderstanding, and they're happier than ever so they'd love it if we could make it over to celebrate. like i couldn't smell that bullshit right through the fuckin' phone." there is no world in which nadia would miss going to this sham of an 'anniversary dinner' or whatever they were calling it — not when it's the perfect opportunity for her to dig deeper into joanne mcnair's insecurities and get the dirt on what exactly had led both of them to threats of divorce.
at the end of the day, her inclination to go is just a very telltale sign of a very scary truth — she's bored. and that, unfortunately, is a dangerous thing for nadia callahan to be. "of course, baby." they both know dinner and one drink isn't happening — not when nadia's got an ulterior motive and when the near-divorcée in question likes to hit the bottle and yammer on to anyone who'll listen — but over the years nadia has come to learn that it's easier to placate gene than to argue, and she'll just end up doing whatever the fuck she wants to anyway. "you could learn a thing or two, you know. those shotguns in the den aren't just for decoration."
he can definitely tell she's not exactly thrilled to see him—well, tough luck. he knows that sometimes it's for the best to leave her alone when she's ready to bite like this and even though gene's not looking for a fight tonight, he's still choosing to walk into moving traffic. he might regret it, he might not. " big misunderstanding my ass. he's got a mistress in dallas. bought her a house and everything. bragged about it the last few times we were at the country club. " gene's not sure if he's mentioned it to his wife before—if he hasn't, well, then he's just caused jeremy mcnair some serious grief because god only knows what nadia's going to do with this piece of information. but to be fair, it's not like he cares. mcnair has always been a pain in the ass. gene only keeps him around because of his ties in oil—you never know who you're gonna need to call, that sort of thing.
he knows full well why nadia's so interested in showing up to the dinner and he figures he'll have to suffer through it, if he wants to keep her happy. still, he should be grateful—his wife's hobby of being in everyone's business often comes quite useful. some idiot boring the shit out of him is a small price to pay for potential leverage. " oh, come on, i know how to use one. " well. too well, actually—like riding a bike, gene's never lost it. doesn't like to think about the times he had to exercise the skill. another lifetime. " doesn't mean i like it. especially if we're talking hunting. i never understood the appeal. and jeremy's—really weird about it. that hunting club he's in sounds like a cult. if i ever even think about joining something like this, feel free to shoot me yourself. "
LINH KNEW SHE HAD A BIT OF A REPUTATION AROUND TOWN. People often stayed out of her way--- afraid to see what she and her crew would do to those who got on her bad side. It was a helpful reputation to have. She could avoid salespeople, the weakhearted, and those who only befriend someone in an effort to take them down. Still, her unapproachable nature made it so parties like this one were spent watching more than participating.
That is, until she heard a voice. Her eyes glanced over to the woman, and a hint of a smirk formed on her lips. Brave girl, or stupid-- she wasn't quite sure yet. Either way, she played along with the woman. "I never say no to a free drink." She had never really been offered one either, but she didn't need to say that out loud. "Just don't put shit in it."
" jesus christ, who do you think i am? " lori tilts her head, laughs a little, mostly just taken aback by the reaction. she likes it, though, the straightforwardness of it, the firmness. she could neve be like this. " being a weird creep spiking people's drink is not really my thing, promise, " she says and downs her severely overpriced drink in two, quick gulps. pushes the empty glass away. " which is probably exactly what a weird creep spiking people's drinks would say. probably," she jokes, trying to figure out if the woman even has a sense of humor she can tackle.
lori orders another vodka soda, takes a mental note to not go anywhere past four tonight, then turns to the woman. " just get whatever you want. hands to myself, no tampering, " she smiles, keeps her tone light. she even lifts her hands for a second, palms up. " having fun tonight? what do you think of this—thing? "
it's kind of overwhelming but it does give her a rush she hasn't felt in months. lori's never stepped foot in the guilded room before, when in redford, she's more of a dirty dive bar kind of girl but, sue her, she's feeling a bit homesick for her other life—the staying out all night, the dancing, the fun. lori feels like she hasn't had a night like that since being back, not even once. she's still a little unsure if a party in the morettis' den is the best way to go about it but beggars can't be choosers. so she goes in, finds a spot at the bar, orders a vodka soda and puts her best smile on.
there's a split second when she regrets not bringing any company along, just for the comfort of a friendly face to run to—but she shakes it off. she needs to make new friends, anyway.
" can i buy you a drink? " she offers when they're close enough to hear. " no strings attached, promise. well. —ish. "
closed to : santiago rivera ( @heavcnsfall ) / southern strand saloon ; late afternoon
he drags himself out of the office a little earlier than usual, to even out all these late nights from this past week for once. an hour and a couple texts later, he and santiago are sat in a booth at the saloon. gene's just finished another round of complaining about the last judge he's been having to deal with lately, when he remembers.
" are you going to the moretti thing tonight ? " gene asks as he sets his drink down on the table. if he were asked the same question, he's still not entirely sure what the answer would be. no, if this decision was his and only his to make. but he knows damn well it's not. " it's a bit too— " trashy, he wants to say but tries to search for another word, nothing he likes comes to him, though " —well, not my kind of thing. but nadia might have some business in it so i'm not sure how my night's going to look like. "
closed to : lucia callahan ( @cactuskids ) / callahan law, late night
gene's on his way out when he notices that the lights are still on in lucia's office. whenever she happens to stay behind even later than him, he usually doesn't say anything, just a quick goodbye and he lets her be—he used to be the same, after all. no matter the time, he wouldn't leave until he was completely and truly finished with everything. but he's noticed an uptick in his daughter's late nights spent working, at least he thinks so, and figures it wouldn't hurt to ask. he knocks softly, walks in.
" wrapping up anytime soon? " he asks, pointedly looking at his watch. " what are you working on this hard? "
⸻around redford, names don’t stay clean for long. LORI DECKER is no exception. they are THIRTY-TWO, born and raised or just passing through the town. when the sun rises, they work as a BARTENDER AT SOUTHERN STRAND SALOON, but around here, that rarely tells the whole story. their name has been heard in connection to THE DECKER FAMILY ( child 2 — clinton's child ) and like most in this town, they carry their weight in quiet ways. some say they can be NAIVE and SELFLESS, depending on who’s asking and what’s at stake. they’ve laid claim to BRIAR RIDGE, though ownership in redford is never as simple as it looks. land shifts, loyalties change, and nothing stays untouched for long. lately, their name has been circling for being PRO PRESERVATION. in a town where legacy matters and progress threatens, the only question that ever really lingers is this: will they hold their ground or lose everything trying?
𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗌.
𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 ... lorraine ' lori ' decker 𝖺𝗀𝖾 ... 32 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 ... feb 28th 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 ... trans woman 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗌 ... she&her 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 ... bisexual 𝗈𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ... bartender at southern strand saloon 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ... the decker family 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 ... tba. 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 ... jesse james keitel 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 ... selfless, creative, social, compassionate; weak-willed, escapist, naive, insecure
ever since she was a little girl, lori's biggest dream was to leave redford and to never, never look back.
her childhood is just one, huge blurry memory of not belonging, of trying to meet other people's—her father's especially—expectations and always failing, of never doing or being enough. she tries, she really does, keeps her head down at school, makes sure her grades are okay, has a couple of normal friends she can show off at home, does some work at the ranch whenever she's asked to, just so she can prove that yeah, she can stuck it out in a life like that.
she tries. she really does but none of it works and the more time passes, the more miserable she becomes—this life is not hers and if she's gonna save herself, she has to leave.
it's a huge, loud blow out, the night lori packs up her car and leaves. a couple weeks after her high school graduation she announces that she's not staying and she's never before been cursed out this hard by her father. she knew he wasn't going to be happy about her decision but this is something else. but then she drives—with some new clothes and bare necessitates, a little bit of money saved from tutoring and past summer jobs and just a rough idea of where she's going—and it's the first time in her life she truly feels like herself.
there's a friend waiting for lori in california, a penpal she hoped to god was not some weirdo or a serial killer, someone who promised her shelter and a place to stay so she can find her feet and become herself. san francisco is like a different world and she fits right in. she gets her first, proper job as a server, changes her name and finds her people. the girl who helped lori set herself up in the city becomes the best friend she's always needed. once she saves up some money, she begins her medical transition and things finally start falling into place. never, not even once, does she try contacting her family. they don't either. and if they do—the word never reaches her.
she's finally got the life—an apartment shared with two other girls just like her, a string of jobs that pay the bills, some better than others, a couple of relationships; some people she falls head over heels for, some who hurt her, some who become her friends after. lori's happy—for the most part. it's fine, as long as she doesn't think about what she's missing. and when she does think about it, she goes out, she's got a special group of friends for this kind of going out, the type where she parties so hard she forgets why she was miserable in the first place. booze, other things, hot strangers—anything that will make her forget.
she manages it, for the most part. and then it gets bad. and then she gets the message that her dad died and she seems to hit rock bottom. should she go back? it's an impulsive decision but one she feels like she has to make.
lori finds out after the funeral so she comes back to redford when the wreaths on clinton's grave are already drying out. it's rough, being herself in this place, after all this time. seeing her family, trying to build something again, it's difficult. the guilt she feels overwhelms her.
and she wasn't going to stay. lori figured she'll stick around for a couple of days, see what's changed, try to talk to her siblings, check if there's a way they can have a relationship again, now that the biggest shadow of lori's life—clinton—is gone. but then she realizes that if she goes back, she'll spiral again. coming back to redford has dug up years of unprocessed memories and trauma, which lori has no idea what to do with. going back means she'll just squash it, ignore it and before she knows it, it'll come back to bite her in the ass.
she could stay. sit with it for a while. after all—she's different now. this place is different. her father's dead, her siblings are all adults. maybe there's something here, the thing she's been missing all this time?
lori bites the bullet, lets her girls know that she's not coming back for a little while, tells them to sublet her room back in san francisco, no idea for how long, until she figures her shit out, is what she tells them. she finds a place here, begs for a job at the saloon and starts putting different puzzle pieces together. she can do this.
closed to : nadia callahan ( @dutybled ) ; late night, the callahans house
it's late so the knock on nadia's office door is soft and quiet. gene was just about to finish with work for the day—much too late as per usual—when the notification pops up on his phone. he could leave it until tomorrow or just text but, sue him, he feels like talking to his wife.
" what's up with that mcnairs invite in our calendar? " gene asks standing in the doorway, reading glasses on so he can see what's on his screen, the fresh addition to his schedule coming as a surprise. " i thought they split up. and now they're throwing an anniversary dinner ? have you talked to joanne lately ? " he walks into the room, sits in one of the empty chairs, might as well. the mcnairs are family friends in a sense that they say hello when they see each other out and about, they invite each other to dinner a couple times a year but only make it happen once and usually when they got some business to talk about, when there's money on the table. but isn't it always with them, even when it comes to so-called friends.
" can't believe that six months ago they were asking me for divorce lawyers. both of them, " gene says and then laughs a little. maybe he shouldn't be that surprised. pot, kettle and all that. " if we go, we're just doing dinner and one drink. only one. jeremy's too obsessed with hunting rifles these days. i'm not gonna survive talking to that man for longer than fifteen minutes. "
⸻around redford, names don’t stay clean for long. EUGENE CALLAHAN is no exception. they are SIXTY, born and raised or just passing through the town. when the sun rises, they work as THE CALLAHAN LAW FIRM FOUNDER/SENIOR PARTNER, but around here, that rarely tells the whole story. their name has been heard in connection to THE CALLAHAN FAMILY ( patriarch ) and like most in this town, they carry their weight in quiet ways. some say they can be SECRETIVE and CHARISMATIC, depending on who’s asking and what’s at stake. they’ve laid claim to FOUNDERS ROW, though ownership in redford is never as simple as it looks. land shifts, loyalties change, and nothing stays untouched for long. lately, their name has been circling for being PRO MODERNIZATION. in a town where legacy matters and progress threatens, the only question that ever really lingers is this: will they hold their ground or lose everything trying?
𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗌.
𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 ... eugene 'gene' callahan 𝖺𝗀𝖾 ... 60 𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖽𝖺𝗒 ... june 8th 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 ... cis man 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗌 ... he&him 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 ... unlabeled, sort of / gay and mostly closeted / it's complicated<3 𝗈𝖼𝖼𝗎𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ...founder & senior partner of the callahan law firm 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 ... the callahan family 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 ... tba. 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 ...danny sapani 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒 ...ambitious, charismatic, charming, level-headed; secretive, brutal, opportunistic, deceitful
eugene's backstory is a carefully curated lie he's been stringing together ever since he had been left to fend for himself as a kid.
he grows up rough, in southern louisiana, without a father and a mother who's not around much either; there are three other kids at the house, half-siblings, he thinks, but he was never sure. still—they're family, so he takes care of them, as well as a ten year old kid himself can. they're dirt poor, any money his mother brings home is spent on things a lot more important than a stocked fridge so at thirteen he starts doing small, odd jobs a kid like him can; he asks around the neighborhood, walks dogs, helps with groceries, tutors, anything so he can get a couple of bucks to feed himself and his siblings.
and then he gets a bit older, meets a certain kind of people, the small, odd jobs turn into odd jobs that aren't exactly all that legal but at this point he'd do anything for money, the more of it the better—he'll be eighteen before he knows it and he needs to get out. anywhere but here. the jobs start with minor security things but quickly turn into drug runs, extortion. he has a couple near-brushes with the law but always manages to land on his feet. he keeps a shoebox full of money in the corner of his closet and starts counting the days until he can leave.
the time finally comes when a college acceptance letter lands in his mailbox, the only way out for a kid like him here. he leaves some cash with his siblings but doesn't tell them where he's going, they're old enough to fend for themselves, he tells himself to feel less guilty.
he puts himself through college and it's difficult; he works a couple jobs, studies whenever he can, sometimes has to sleep really rough. sometimes he does things for money he'd rather didn't but he's got a goal and he's going after it.
a couple months before graduation he changes his name so he can cut himself off from his past and start fresh. his diploma says euegene mcknight and it takes a bit of time getting used to. none of his friends have to do that, though—he's got an internship in texas lined up, a couple days after graduation and he's already gone. all ties cut.
when he gets into law school, things are a little better. he makes a friend who lets him take his spare bedroom for free, he's got the internship, which pays a little, so he's not always struggling but old habits die hard so he makes a couple connections, earns the extra buck in a less than conventional way. does some things that are going to haunt him forever. never gets caught, though.
he finishes law school and his plan is underway. he cons his way into rooms full of important people, drinks expensive whiskey like it's something he's been doing for years now, chats old, important men up and makes sure to slip then an idea and his card because if he plays it right, a door somewhere will open. and eventually it does; men with more money than gene has ever seen start treating him like one of their own because gene told the right lie. the way he carries himself, the way he talks, what he says about himself—you'd never believe that he came from nothing. and eugene is doing his damn best to make sure that nobody ever finds out.
all the networking pays off. gene gets hired at an exclusive, corporate firm and the first full paycheck is more money than what he knows what to do with. soon enough he gets a proper taste of the life he's been working towards—expensive suits, dinners with people who shook hands with the president, an apartment with a view, never having to worry about whether you'll have somewhere to sleep or something to eat the next day, no longer feeling embarrassed about who you are and when you come from. anyone asks—gene grew up georgia, middle-class, only child, loving parents but they passed just after he went off to college, nasty accident.
to hit jackpot, he needs to start a family. it's not really something he wants but he knows that it's better for his optics. if he wants people to take him seriously, he needs to paint the right picture, a family man with values. he meets his wife in redford and settles here with her. he takes her name, callahan, and with that, becomes part of a clan with power and influence, everything he's always wanted. their family grows. then he goes about making another dream of his come true—his own law firm. he sees potential around, with all the land and the investor traffic coming through it, he knows he can make bank here. and he's not wrong.
decades later, eugene callahan has solidified himself as a force within the town, someone you should definitely not be fucking with. with the talent of being able to swing decisions with a couple of charming words and enough money to do wonders, he's always out for blood; more power, more money, more respect.
with his past buried so deep, sometimes gene even forgets what he came from. and there better not be anyone here wanting to remind him.
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