Page 15 of Dead Bled Ringer
I needed to get stupidly drunk immediately.
Before I could grab another beer, my phone rang.
My dumbass heart leaped at the idea that it could be Angel.
But of course it wasn’t.
Shit shit shit
“I’m not going to fucking dance for you anymore, asshole,” I snarled into the speaker.
He didn’t even bother replying to that.
“You need to get down here and fix what you fucked up.”
Then the phone went dead.
For a moment I stared down at it, then with a sudden vicious movement I threw my phone as hard as I could into the warped wood paneling of the trailer.
“Fuck!”
But of course it was a massive brick Nokia, so it didn’t even crack the screen. I pocketed the phone and got on my bike to go back into town.
When I arrived at my brother’s office, it was almost midnight.
Henry had always been a nasty little fucker.
Even when we were kids, I’d caught him multiple times doing shit like pulling the wings off butterflies or fucking with bugs and ants just for fun.
And when I found him chasing a bunny one day, I beat the shit out of him. I was always an inch or so taller, a little faster, a bit stronger. He never had any power over me. Ever.
He didn’t even try to take me on.
Then he showed me that first video and I’d been his fucking bitch servant boy ever since.
As I opened the door, a pale, dark-haired woman brushed by me, her tits half-out still.
The room stank like sex and cum. Henry was putting his cufflinks back in, and he jerked his head at the woman’s retreating back.
“I ruined that pussy and ass, but if you ask nicely she might give you a blowjob.”
“No thanks. What do you want now?” I asked.
The less emotion I showed, the less power Henry had over me.
My twin slipped his suit jacket back on and straightened the knot in his silk tie in the mirror with meticulous care.
“You fucked up with Angelise, dumbass. Letting her see your tattoo? That was stupid. Now she’s pissed at me.”
“Maybe stop cheating on her,” I suggested acidly.
“If I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Henry snapped, raising an eyebrow at me. “You need to fix it.”
“The problem is you fucking around on her and lying to her. I can’t fucking fix that.”
“Oh, Ihopedyou’d be defiant,” my twin smirked.
He pressed a button and two of his greasy little business associates came in, squirrelly little fuckers with shifty eyes and slicked-back hair.
