Tyler Adam Decker was a simple man, really. He enjoyed good booze, beautiful men, the company of his few friends, and antagonizing the shit out of exactly two people.
Since he and Jack were still working on the long con for Daniel, it felt like a good time to let Alexander Yao know his endlessly deep pockets didn’t impress everyone in this town. Usually he did his best to poke at Alex once a week just to make sure the status quo didn’t really set in. Usually he just sent Alex snide letters or performed mild acts of vandalism. It wasn’t as though Alex ever pressed charges. Probably thought he was looking out for Ty’s wrap sheet or something earnest and well-meaning like that.
It was late enough now that Alex’s delightful grandmother wouldn’t come outside and make him feel bad when Tyler dropped down his painters stool and cracked open the can of white paint. Honestly, this shed of theirs could totally use a touch-up anyways. He was doing them a favor.
Someone coughed off to his right.
“You know,” Tyler said casually as he dipped his brush in primer, “For a rich bastard your security really is horrible. Do you even have a do-not-let-in list? Am I even on it? I’m beginning to think you’re not trying.”