How Soon Can I Party with Dallas' Biggest Dental Villain and His Home Water Park?

Cry me a river, Byron Harris. Let he who is without fraud cast the first stone, right? I for one know you don't become a titan of industry without cutting a few corners along the way. But once you start slappin' steel on the grill of every confused immigrant, then prop up your own Hurricane Harbor right in the backyard of the town's biggest taxpayers, you better own it. That means no blueprint leaks, no visitors, no questions, and no mistakes. Hear trouble? Waterhose time every time, plain and simple, like me with the jealous ex-girlfriends and blog groupies. Media mogul, dental magnate, whatever. Malouf gets it, and there's no question I'll be snortin' a line off the side of that slide before sliding headfirst into a pool of champagne-toasting, brace-faced call girls at some point. Funny thing is that I was looking at the same place on Strait Lane, but I didn't think it would be very ethical for a reputable sports journalist to be neighbors with the area's biggest sports star. I am still a professional.