Page 21 of Twice as Twisted

“Thank you,” Duke says, not turning from the window. “For not going to get her for yourself. I know you could have.”

“You’re my brother, Duke. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “But you don’t need me.”

I think that over a minute. “We all need each other, balance each other. That’s why it works.”

We’re both right in a way. They both need me more, but that’s something I need as much as they need what I provide. I hold the power.

“Right,” Duke says glumly. “We’re brothers. We share everything.”

“Exactly.”

Almost everything, anyway. I keep a few things for myself. Dad made sure we were individuals as well as having a bond of brotherhood that could never be broken.

“Family is important, but being your own man is too.”

That’s what he said when he took us for our weekly outings with him, each of us getting some time with him. It was private, something he said we were not to share with anyone else, not even each other. Only he and I knew what we did during our father-son time, when he encouraged me to explore the reaches of my mind, my curiosity, my proclivities. It was during those times that I was able to start my operation, to develop the system for making Alice in Wonderland. I was the chemist, so I designed the drug. Dad was the businessman, so he showed me how to make it profitable.

“What did you do during your time with Dad?” I ask as we cross the long bridge arching over the Mississippi River, so different to the one that featured in too many important days in our lives in Faulkner, and yet, similar in obvious ways.

“There was no time,” Duke says. “He died the night you left.”

“Before that,” I clarify. “Your father-son time.”

I know enough about Royal and King’s assignments to make an educated guess about what Dad used them for, what they did for him. I’m less sure about my twin.

“That’s the one thing we don’t share,” he reminds me, staring out the window with a scowl.

“He’s gone now,” I point out. “What’s the big secret? I already know you went to Thorncrown with him. I have your location.”

He shrugs, not turning my way. “I made sure the church stayed in his pocket.”

“You blackmailed them?” I clarify. “What did you have on them?”

“I fucked a nun. Then I went with him to make sure they were staying in line.”

“Damn.” I study him, but he doesn’t turn from the window. I know his tell, and he knows I know it. It makes me wonder if that’s why he won’t look at me. If he’s lying.

I let it go, though. Dad’s gone, and Duke’s always been sentimental. If he wants to keep whatever they had between them, I don’t fault him. I never told him about the scale of the Alice operation until he saw it for himself. Even now, I have things that are just for me.

The hitchhiker I picked up on the way out of town. The motel. The experiments.

I will, but not quite yet.

Maybe he’s better off not knowing, but I don’t like secrets between us. He’s too sensitive about certain things, though he’d never want to admit that weakness. He covers it with clowning and partying and drinking, with chaos and debauchery. And I’ve always protected him, kept his secret, because I know the survival of his ego depends on it. So I protect him again now, not by hiding his weakness from others, but by respecting him enough to know what he’s capable of handling and not pushing him beyond that. I don’t make him tap out, admit his failings or acknowledge them aloud, even to me. I keep his secrets and allow him to keep his dignity.

And for a few more hours, I keep mine, something just for me.

The hitchhiker has no relevance to him, anyway.

seven

Duke Dolce

“I need to make one stop while we’re here,” Baron says, turning off the highway.

“How long will it take?” I ask, my mind already hurtling ahead faster than the car, out of Tennessee, to the moment when I’ll see her, touch her, again. It’s like a craving that never goes away, only momentarily sated when I cross a line, push my limit further than it’s ever gone.

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