Page 95 of The Twins

Vegas

SAN RICARDO - 5 MONTHS LATER

What’s better,having no guilty conscience whatsoever or being smothered with it?

I smear the come off my fingers, and I curse underneath my breath.

“Can I have your number?” the woman underneath me asks. “Please?”

“No, you can’t,” I tell her, leaving my bed. Is it even mine when I barely sleep here? My brother’s been home for two weeks, and I can’t leave his room. When he kicks me out with his words, I spend the night in the hallway.

I can’t see through him.

When I’m in his presence, I feel numb, but when I see his scars, they shriek at me. He spends most of his time lying on his side on the sheets I prepare for him.

“Was it good for you?” the woman asks. She could be anyone. She is anyone. She’s not of importance. I don’t care what she looks like, what she smells like. Who she calls her boyfriend. Whether she has a job.

When I shut my eyes, I don’t envision the woman I just fucked.

Or the one I fucked the other week.

When my eyes close, all I see is blood.

It’s Amira’s blood, and she’s not nearby. She’s in Quito with her husband. I’m this close to taking her away from him, but it takes time.

Time I don’t have.

Couple that with the fact that my brother just came back from the dead, and I’m supposed to take care of him?

“Why are you shaking? Are you okay?” she asks, whoever she is.

“Can you please leave my house?” I beg–my voice a hoarse whisper. Her disappointment floods me. The elation she felt a hot minute ago is dry, and it is replaced by scorn. I don’t look at her, but I hear her snappy movements.

She tears a piece of her clothing, but I don’t offer her any help as she dresses.

If she’s from around here, she knows the family drama.

Remo White earned himself a dishonorable discharge, soiling the family name and all the hard work his parents put in! He never even got punished for it!

The truth is he had to pay a fine, a large one at that. I saw the numbers, and I was surprised at how Remo never asked for my help. He never admits that he needs me as much as I need him.

Once the woman stomps out of my house, I sigh in relief.

I scrub my body clean in the shower as if I came back from a job gone messy. I let the water run hot, and I stay under the spray until it turns cold again. My chest rises and falls. For a while, it’s the only sound that I hear.

Then my phone rings.

A ping notification on my laptop.

Work calls.

Dragging myself out of the bathroom, I don’t bother putting on any clothes. I charge for my desk, my eyes drifting over the notifications of my devices. A new assignment calls for me, one down in Argentina. I’ve got to give it to Big Daddy. Ever since they figured out my obsession with Máximo Martí’s wife Amira, they haven’t sent me anywhere but South America.

It’s their way of dangling treats in front of my eyes.

You can be near her, but you’ll never have her unless you go against your government.

They don’t know that I can, and I will go against Big Daddy. I don’t fear them.

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