PART 2 OF 23
Michael Sloan
Mavenlus DeskFICTION
Michael Sloan was twenty-nine when he died.
Everett’s only son.
Restless.
Funny.
Difficult.
He had a talent for lighting design and spent years touring with theater companies instead of joining the family property business.
Everett pretended disappointment did not hurt.
Michael pretended disapproval did not matter.
They were both bad liars.
The ring inscription came from Michael’s childhood.
Everett often worked late in the arcade office.