Page 61 of The Twins

Bel Air does that to people.

It’s not like we live in a trash can. Between my brother and I, we have enough money to own a big house in Los Angeles in today’s day and age. I don’t know where my brother gets it from.

Since he is one of those vets. Neglected. Disrespected.

He’s not even considered a true vet, which is even more disturbing, but I understand why those regulations are in place. In the court’s eyes, he fucked up. That’s all I know. Remo never discusses what went on in his hearings after his near-death experience.

Don’t even go there, bitch.

What’s a good distraction? Thinking about how much I hate rich people, although I’m one of them—self-awareness is key!

It’s the key that you put in a hole you call self-hatred.

When I see the multi-million-dollar mansions on the edge of the hill, overviewing downtown and the rest of LA, I get sick.

I’m reminded of the people Charles helped with his operation. They are documented because the sneaky Chief had friends in many places and, quite possibly, a trigger-happy hand on a gun, threatening authorities that denied his simple requests.

My phone rings as I park the car in our garage.

It’s my sugar puff. I smile, picking up.

The smile dies when I hear her panting on the other end of the line.

“What is it?” I ask. I turn the engine back on, and I pull out of the garage. It’s only been two hours since I left her in Bel Air.

“Please, come and take me home,” she blurts out.

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