Page 108 of The Twins

Remo

LOS ANGELES - THE NEXT MORNING

My twin brother yawns,stretching his arms and kicking his legs.

“I would’ve expected a bloodier breakdown this time around, but pedophile producers do just fine,” Vegas taunts us. The only rays of sunlight that sneak into this room gravitate toward him. “Any news from Big Daddy?”

We’re in the basement, and he sits by the open door that leads up the stairs to the hallway. He’s got his ear on our home. In case visitors decide to drop by.

“Who the fuck’s Big Daddy?” Charles asks my brother.

“You know exactly who he is. He’s had you by the balls since you blew your cover to save our Grey,” Vegas comments. “Your employer. The company that controls us all.”

Charles mutters curses under his breath.

“No,” I tell my brother. Charles snorts. “No news from the agency.”

I’ve sent in every file, photograph, video, or name I found that was related to MARLY PRODUCTIONS. We’re anticipating a response from the government–the side of the government that’s in the shadows. I certainly didn’t obtain my intel through legal research.

So, what’s next?

Taking one pedophile in Hollywood down doesn’t finish the job. There are more out there. Even if we exterminate Hugh Abbott and his relations within Hollywood and beyond, there’s no guarantee that his victims will be safe.

He has lots of victims, that man.

Carey Jean is only one out of ten child stars that he has his claws dug in.

His production company also produces one of the children’s television series. Not the one targeted at teens. The one that aims for an audience of children under ten years old.

The ages of said show’s actors and actresses vary from five to nine.

It’s disgusting.

Charles sits next to me, observing the screens in front of me over my shoulders. I must admit that he tries harder than ever before to understand what I do. At the end of the day, it’s a language he doesn’t comprehend, and my fluency in it has allowed Charles to remain the guy with the gun at the front of our operations.

It started out as a side-gig, something to do while on leave in San Ricardo. Charles didn’t ask for the world. He asked me to build an encrypted database and a foolproof communication network for his human trafficking operation. An unfathomable beast that would protect his secret work from the curious eyes of our government.

Since I worked within those perimeters, it was a walk in the park for me.

Before, I didn’t have incentives.

Sure, my brother… But he can take care of himself. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s as trigger-happy as Charles is. They’re different types of men, but they wouldn’t hesitate to protect their loved ones and, most of all, themselves.

My brother’s independence screwed with me when I was still at work, and it screws with me now. I grew up believing that I had to be the perfect child to make up for Vegas’ failures. In my eyes, he’d never make it.

Over the years, when he pretended to party… The worst thing about it was that everyone believed him. We couldn’t comprehend that he was actively trolling us.

He watched a mobster’s offspring, struggled with the baggage of Grey’s abuse. He dumbed himself down to become a small-town cop. Meanwhile, he worked for top-secret government operations, ones that are classified. And if they’re ever found out? The government doesn’t associate with such despicable actions.

“Grey, go to sleep. I feel your eyes on my back,” Charles tells our woman.

She brought her pillow from my room. Sideways on the most uncomfortable couch one can imagine, she lies there behind us. It’s the tenth time that Charles has asked her to leave, but she doesn’t.

“I can’t sleep,” Grey mutters. I can’t see her because I’m focused on the task at hand, track Carey Jean and uncover Hugh Abbott’s financial secrets and friends.

But I imagine her body curled into a fluffy ball with her soft blanket. She holds the blanket with both hands when she’s nervous. Her eyes surely flutter shut, but she keeps opening them up because she doesn’t want to miss a thing.

Cautiously, she asks me, “What’s she doing?”

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