Sex Lies, and Videotape: The Revenge By Bridget N (Author s notes: Thank you to Alynwa and Zinelady for their encouragement. They wouldn t let me quit. And to Denny Crane s Ghostwriter if you re still out there, I hope I do this justice.)

Jorge Sanchez took another healthy puff of his fine Cuban cigar as he looked over the New York skyline from his high rise balcony, the calm breeze brushing his legs. He closed his robe a bit closer, lazily sinking back into the leather chair. He had no pressing matters at hand, and that s how he liked to live. Floating from day to day, living for the moment. Jorge was a regular adrenaline junkie, this he would not deny. By day he was a construction worker, operating cranes and ball wreckers. Not too exciting right? But it was the job he was paid to do at night that got his juices flowing. Only one person knew what he did, and that was his boss. She held more power and money than any one that knew her. The attorney thing was just a front, and a vehicle with which to wield such power. She held a seduction about her that few men could resist, and she knew it. But within her beautiful eyes she beguiled many with, there was a deadly force. Of course, in order to do her dirty, deceitful deeds, she needed an .assistant. That s where Jorge came in. Jorge would often stare in his mirror, searching his own soul for any regrets about his association with Alex Shore. In the end, he felt he had nothing to lose. So he waited for what he had in store for her. This was much better than rotting in a Colombian prison cell.
His admiration from the balcony came to a halt when he heard his cell phone sounding off from the pocket of his jeans back in his bedroom. He got up with a light sigh and padded over to get the call. It was Alex. He chuckled silently. Finally, some action. Pressing the answer button, he puffed on his cigar. What s up, boss? His casual answer was met with a very angry woman on the other end. Something he was used to, but nonetheless, he really needed to listen. Alex didn t shout, or swear. She simply growled low, and even something inside Jorge shivered at the dangerous tone.
I don t suppose you ve read the Boston Globe this morning have you? No.. He answered. Why? Just read it online, and then call me back. She answered, the angry growl still in her voice. We have some people to deal with. With that, she didn t wait for a reply, but simply hung up the phone. Jorge pulled up the Boston Globe on the web browser in his phone, and skimmed the latest headlines. His searching stopped cold when he came to halfway down the page. He knew instantly why Alex had the murderous rage in her voice. The headline read: Legendary Boston attorney Denny Crane weds Alan Shore in Nimmo Bay, British Colombia. Jorge shook his head and put his phone down, taking a deep puff of his cigar. Alexandra Shore s vendetta against her own twin brother was about to deepen, and he knew from this moment on, things got ugly. Let the real games begin. Jorge mused aloud, followed by the triumphant laugh that rang out throughout the apartment.

Meanwhile, in Boston, Alex Shore fumed. She couldn t believe this. She couldn t believe that those two were flaunting their disgusting, immoral relationship in front of her. And Denny Crane had just used her like he d used all of his other women. Perhaps it was because Alan was really the one he d wanted. She shouldn t have been so blind. How could she not have seen it? The endearing glances, the subtle touches on Alan s leg and hand whenever they had their little male bonding on the balcony. She thought it was innocent, but she was dead wrong. It was so much more.
The last time she saw her brother, she was with Denny, and now it was again as she weakly lifted the phone from her hands and pulled up the headline once more. Denny was gazing at Alan lovingly, even proudly, as they held hands and stood face to face. She couldn t remember the last time a man looked at her like that, before Denny. But she remembered the last time a man looked at her like he wanted to kill her "I'm telling you to get out of my house or you'll be up against so many charges you'll never see the light of day when I get through with you in court." A piece of her died that night. She actually hadn t loved Denny just for his money, although his wealth was certainly substantial and she d never have to worry about money another day in her life. She cared for him. His charm and his gentlemen like qualities were something she d searched for nearly all her life. She felt cared for.
And now, the two most prominent attorneys in Boston were married, and all that her and Denny shared was gone. She shouldn t be surprised. Her brother was always greedy, cynical, spiteful. In their childhood, he d always read her diary to get into her thoughts. In high school, he d always want what was hers. Following in her shadow like a lost puppy. It was pathetic. And yet, he would always manage to come out on top, with an unbelievably smug look on his face every single time. Somehow, some way, she d make Alan pay.