Rob Lowe As Sodapop Curtis Novels & Stories

"Get what over with?" "The test. You said you'd quiz me." "Ah, yes. The test." He signaled her to sit down, and she said, "Where should we start?" Drake slid a cup of coffee her way. "Have some coffee first." Debra took the cup and downed it in one go. "Okay, now can we start?" "Alright, first question. Who's the Lowe family's biggest business partner?" "The Sharp family." "And which of their businesses in Orkgate is the most profitable?"

Then, he said, "Imelda, everything you took from me—I’ll take it all back one day." But I felt free. For the first time, I gave him a pleasant smile. "I’ll be waiting." Not long after, I heard that he had lost everything in a failed investment. Even his last home was repossessed. He was left with nothing. At that moment, I was hosting a press conference, announcing the company’s new name: Lowe Corporation. Ironically, Lucille’s livestream scandal had given the company an unexpected surge in popularity. Ever since the ownership transfer, public support for our business had skyrocketed, and now, under my leadership, Lowe Corporation had undergone a complete rebirth.

Cortney taps her pen against her notepad twice, then tears the sheet free and hands it to me. I look it over. “Soda—Coke, Sprite. Orange juice, cranberry juice, pineapple juice, lemon-lime soda. Potato chips, regular and flavored. Tortilla chips. Doritos. Popcorn. Red Solo cups…” I glance up, shaking the paper at her. “No alcohol?” “Don’t worry about that one. River is handling it.” I blink, taken aback. “Is he coming with us?” “No way.” She clears her throat. “You and Cleo go to Walmart. River gets the alcohol using his tricks. And I…” She trails off, suddenly very interested in her pen. “I’ll go get Vericaps.”

SHELBY POV I have been working both jobs for four weeks now, and the pay is excellent. All the tips I make go into my brand new savings account, and I already have $900. Nothing else has changed. Curt still comes in every night to buy beer. He does shoot me a smile every time now, but nothing else. He seems to be getting worse. He hasn't shaved in who knows how long, and he looks tired. So very tired. It breaks my heart to see a guy like him so broken.

He looked longingly at the smoldering butt, then at his interrogator. “You’re in deep shit, Jonesy,” said his old partner, Randy. Curtis smiled even broader. This was a game he knew only too well. “Brought you outta retirement for this, partner? How’s Dolores? Send her my best, will you?” Curtis’s voice sounded like gravel even to himself. No doubt due to his two-pack-a-day habit lubricated by bourbon.

To speed Curtis Autos along their path to the global market, Charlie was even planning to invest his Rejuvenation Pills once they established a firm foothold on the Oskian Market. He will have the Rothschilds secure US production and sales licenses, acquire a capable American car maker like GM or Ford, and then have Bernard handle the deal with other foreign brands like Peugeot. With all those pieces, he will then integrate all Curtis Autos production bases. He didn't know much about automotive production or sales. Still, he knew he had to go the extra mile when the entire company was named after his father, so that it would become the world's top automotive brand. On top of that, during the

“You shut the fuck up about her. Don’t you even say her name.” “She living with you, boy?” “None of your business.” “Sucking you dry, huh?” Lloyd watched as Curtis swelled with rage. “Spending your money, sitting on her fat ass and watching TV while you work to provide? I hope she sucks your dick good. Earns her keep that way.”

“C’mon, man. Do me a solid. Maybe extend the sale for one more Pepsi. Whaddya say?” Russ Givens frowned, shaking his head at the pile of change before him . . . And stopped. A soft look of surprise spread over his features. He glanced at Bobby, offered an oddly preoccupied smile and shrugged. “Sure. Why not? One more half-price sale.” A rare sense of well-being filled Bobby. Hell. Something was going his way for once. He grinned and saluted the now smiling Russ Givens with his Pepsi. “Thanks, man.” He turned and left the Quickmart, his melancholy ruminations momentarily assuaged by this minor triumph.

Gabriel looked extremely proud and smugly raised an eyebrow at Curtis. Curtis took a sip of red wine while feeling quite irritated. However, a loss was a loss, and he accepted the outcome. In the future, he would put in the effort to learn and invite world-class chefs to come and teach him. He just couldn't believe that he wasn't as good as Gabriel. "What's so great about comparing this?" Curtis muttered. Luna raised her glass and said, "Mr. Crosby may not be good at cooking, but he's great at making money, and having money is what's important. Come on, let's have a toast."

“No. I’m trying real hard. By the way, thanks for the tech gig, I’m working the eight o’clock shift tomorrow.” Lizzy gave him a brief nod. “I’ll see you on Saturday. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to talk to this beef bazooka in private.” Curtis snickered as the two boys ambled away. Johnny folded his arms. “Beef bazooka, really?” Lizzy knelt down and tethered the pooch’s leash to the table leg. “I was going for Hulk Hogan, but that seemed mean, even coming from me.”