The Alpha Cass Davis To meet me, you’d think I was raised by wolves whose den resided at any Ritz Carlton around the world with a flash of a Visa Black Card. That tearing the throat out of a politician running for president would be my past time. I guess you would be half right. You would not believe how many people think that my grandfather invented ice as a system of cooling. As stupid as that sounds, what’s really funny is that I won’t waste my time correcting them. So in case you were wondering, he did not invent ice, he invented bagged ice. Who knew people would pay so much for frozen water in a bag, cubed or blocked. Not that the bagged ice business can stand next to names like Paul Allen, Warren Buffet or Donald Trump. It’s too bad that my father wasn’t the hard nosed business man as my grandfather. While all of the second generation companies went multinational, my father was quickly realizing that shipping “American” ice over seas or even into the coldest part of Canada wasn’t economically feasible. His pinnacle of success was pushing business to Alabama, Arkansas and Mississippi. Easy enough, he sat back in his leather chair and let the board members deal with everything else. To top it all off, he never seemed to realize that I even existed. His life was frequent social drinking at banquets and benefits and constantly swimming up a stream of Armani, Bentley, Rolex and Versace only to be covered in cubed and blocked ice—in bags. No unfortunately my parents were not wolves. They were groomed, ivy league does and those does gave birth to a wolf. I’m the unholy offspring of two rich families nonchalantly tying the knot. I know this because my mother, the heiress to the McCormick Spice Company, had a very trying pregnancy. As if she was subconsciously purging the evil from her body. She died on delivery. As for me and the man I’ve grown into being, I’m going to be somebody. No matter whose fingers I have to crush beneath my wooden soled Farrogamo shoes.