The Nation’s Top Male Model, Mark Antonious Richfield, went over the list of guests coming to his home for Thanksgiving weekend. The manor house and estate in Paradise, California had thirteen bedrooms, and a detached annex with four bedrooms over a four-car garage. Needless to say, he could host quite a lot of friends and family. Although this weekend they only expected fifteen guests. “Right,” Mark said, brushing his brown shoulder-length hair away from his eyes. His manservant, Warren, was used to these huge gatherings and a master at planning, unlike himself. His head was always in a muddle. With his modeling for his trademark cologne company, Dangereux, owning his deceased father’s clothing manufacturing firm, Richfield-Miller International, and! creating his own line of men’s clothing, he barely had time to breathe. “What to do, what to do…” Mark tapped his chin as he worried. Warren, an older man with thinning hair, held a clipboard. “Why don’t we place one of them in the annex and the other in the main house?” Mark rubbed his face in agony. His eldest son, thirty-five-year-old Alexander Mark Richfield, an actor, had separated from his husband, Lieutenant of the LAPD, Billy Sharpe. Billy was twenty years Alex’s senior, and Alex and Billy’s marauding had come to a head when Billy found Alex having an affair with one of his costars. He booted Alex out of the house, literally, threw his items out onto the lawn. “And who goes where?” Mark asked Warren, showing his frustration. “Bloody hell, Warren, like I don’t have enough to worry about.” Warren patted his arm to comfort him. “Let’s think about it for now.” “Right.” Mark tried to smile but he wasn’t happy with the many pending divorces and separations occurring. Warren left the house, no doubt to make sure the bedrooms in the annex had fresh sheets, towels, and everything else needed for the guests. However, who would be staying there? He simply didn’t know. Mark sat in the nook of his grand mansion. The window at the bench seating in the kitchen had a glorious view of his horse paddock which contained eight horses. The large stable had been remodeled around ten years ago. His father used to breed thoroughbreds for racing. Behind the manor house was a built-in Olympic-sized pool, covered for the winter, a large patio with potted flowering plants, a basketball court, a tennis court, and a meadow that stretched to the base of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. The round trip across the meadow was ten miles, and a lovely waterfall was a short hike in the forest from there. He and the other horseback riders had their own trail, a switchback route up a hillside that led to a lookout point. Sierra, Mark’s chef and Warren’s wife, was busy whipping up a light buffet meal for the guests. They were set to arrive later this evening, which was the Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. “Dad! Dad!” Mark woke from his thoughts to see his son, Jacob Bentley Richfield racing towards him. His youngest son at eleven years of age, was the product of a tryst between himself and his former fiancée Sharon Tice. Adorable, bright Jacob had his mother’s blond hair and blue eyes. Jacob and Mark’s husband, Steven Jay Miller, had attended a karate class. Jacob seemed to take to sports very well, and the fact that his husband, whom he had married twice after being married to Stan Bergman, a very young actor in between the two marriages to Steven, enjoyed taking Jacob to the once-a-week afterschool classes. Jacob was still in his karate gi and had obviously achieved a green belt! He crawled onto the bench beside him and nearly sat on top of him. “Well!” Mark cuddled his adorable boy. “How did you do?” Steve, a former LAPD cop, turned adman, turned CEO with Mark at his garment manufacturing firm in Sacramento, said, “He tested for green belt… and obviously got it.” The handsome officer with the blue eyes and dazzling smile, seemed proud, even though Steven wasn’t keen on small children. Nor had he formally adopted any of Mark’s offspring. Evidently, he and Jacob bonded over the self-defense course, and Mark couldn’t be happier about it. Steven, being a former LAPD cop, could no doubt teach the course himself. “Did you?” Mark cupped Jacob’s silky cheek. “I’m so proud of you!”
