Page 99 of The Twins

Charles

NOW

Does Remo thinkI don’t pay attention to his body language?

I fucking do, and my instincts told me to follow the boy because the trouble in his mind threatened to derail him once again.

A little over an hour ago, he checked himself into a cheap motel by the beach. It’s not a pretty beach either. It’s a place where dreams go to die, and there won’t be any dying today.

Vegas:

DID YOU FIND HIM?!!??!?!??!??!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?

Vegas’s message appears on my phone. I can taste his urgency. I sent a quick thumbs-up, and I make my way to Remo’s room. After I left the city, I informed Vegas about his brother’s trip. I left out the fact that he seemed on the verge of a meltdown.

We have better shit to do today than whatever dreadful thing Remo has planned. I don’t plan on Vegas speeding over here to make a scene.

Right outside the room Remo’s renting, I see one of our old Chargers. I sigh. I don’t knock on the door. Instead, I break and enter.

The room’s spacious, but it stinks of cigarettes. Perfect. I don’t have to leave the room to smoke then, don’t I? I shut the door behind me, and I detect Remo by the window.

It’s an old-fashioned room, outdated and quite possibly infected by things spoiled boys like the White twins can’t handle.

I plop down on the bed while I wait for Remo to acknowledge that I came after him.

On the day we finally have another lead on finding Hugh Abbott, Remo has one of his meltdowns. Go figure. It’s one of the first major ones ever since Grey came back, and I’m desperate for him to spill what the fuck triggered him.

“She’s pregnant,” Remo blurts out.

“Who?” I roll my shoulders, stretching my neck. This will be a long day. When we return to LA, we have days of work ahead of us. I left Tara at our post, but she won’t be able to hold the mission together independently.

Then there’s Grey and the kid back at our place.

If we take Carey Jean’s accusations seriously, then there’s a problem in that family. One that starts and ends with Carey Jean’s mom.

Who leaves her daughter unattended at night so that Hugh Abbott can visit her.

“Grey.”

I cough, clearing my throat. Fucking cigarettes. “It’s rude to joke about that.”

“I’m not joking. The kid says she’s pregnant. She congratulated me and told me I’d be a good dad,” Remo says. He never meets my eyes. He stares out of the window with a troubled look in his eyes.

Grey can’t get pregnant. It’s impossible. I bypass that information before I get my hopes up. “You’re mad because you found out through the kid?”

Remo doesn’t nod, but he lowers his gaze, a slight pout covering his features. I go on, “What am I supposed to say? If she’s pregnant and she hasn’t told me either, that is? In what universe do you have to fuck off and book a sleazy motel to let out your frustrations?”

There’s no reaction on his end.

“Just because you don’t trust your brother and your girlfriend, that doesn’t mean they don’t either. I’m sure whatever’s going on with her body, she wants to detect what it is first and then bother you with it,” I assure the guy, but his tense shoulders don’t open up. “Women are weird like that, Remo.”

“Whatever.” He clears his throat. “Can you please go back where you came from?”

“That’s an awfully rude thing to say to an immigrant,” I tell him to tease him, lighten the mood. Instead, he takes it to heart.

“Look, I’m sorry—”

“Have you eaten yet, White boy?” Remo shakes his head, tense all over. The lack of eye contact bothers me. “Since your humble abode has no kitchen, I’ll have to order food. Where do we get food in a place like this?”

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