The bar smells like stale beer and fried food. Not my first choice, or even my tenth, but I thought Leo might back out if I chose to meet in a halfway decent spot.
He’s petty like that sometimes.
The bartender frowns at me. Great customer service, right there.
“I’ll have a ginger ale,” I tell him, which only sets his frown in concrete. Then the door opens, flooding late afternoon light into the bar and stealing attention away from me. My twin brother strides in, all confidence in a room like this. A room he’s used to.
How I wish we were used to different rooms.
He spots me at the bar and strolls over.
“Shot of tequila.” Leo wraps his knuckles on the bar once when he orders, but the bartender doesn’t seem to mind. Still, he scowls when he slides my soda to me, as if the lack of alcohol offends him.
“You’re drinking a shot?” I ignore the surly man, focusing on the person I care about. “You celebrating something?”
Leo drapes himself over the stool next to me, doing his best to wear a condescending smile. “I’m a busy man. I’ve gotten used to drinking my poison quickly. No time for sipping.”
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I purse my lips into the smallest pinch I can manage, then take the most minuscule sip of my drink.
The cockiness in his expression bleeds into true—suppressed—amusement.
“Aah.” I smack my lips. “Refreshing.”
“Drama queen,” he mutters with a smile.
“Butt head,” I say back with a smirk of my own, hiding the pang in my heart.
This is it. These minor exchanges are enough to keep me hoping.
Leo is a dick. I know that. He does immature shit and says mean things. But there’s this constant nagging in the back of my mind that tells me something is off whenever he flings one of his barbs. A whisper of a voice begging me not to give up on him. And then I get a glimpse. Maybe it’s a genuine laugh or a throwback to our childhood together, and I wonder if there’s still some parts of my brother worth saving.
The bartender sets Leo’s drink down, and I watch him throw it back like water.
“What’s up, Loony? You need help or something?” He stares at me, calculating.
And just like most things with Leo, there are layers. Would he help me if I had a problem?
Probably. Maybe.
Would he judge me?
Probably. Maybe.
Would he charge me for help?
Probably. Maybe.
But I’ve never asked him for help. Because when we were kids, I never had to ask. He knew what Dash and I needed, and he did his best to get it. Then a switch flipped, and it was just me taking care of things.
Leo turned into someone I fought against to keep Dash safe. Which meant I brought none of my problems to my twin, and he stopped trying to solve them on his own.
“I don’t need help.” I sip more of my ginger ale and study my brother, looking for more hints. For more cracks.
Leo flexes his shoulders and kicks the heel of his boot against the barstool, agitation in all the lines of his body.
“Like I said. I’m a busy man. Want to get to the point?”
“Do you know why I’m in town?”
I watch him lose every hint of aggression in an almost eerie display of mood switching. He lounges back against the bar, not a care in the world.
“I heard you in the house. Death in the family, huh? Old granny bit the dust?”
My teeth ache as I clench my jaw, and I stare off to the side, blinking rapidly.
Damn Leo. Damn him and this bullshit front.
At least I know how to get through it, even if it means using words sharpened to hurt.
“You sound like our father.”
Someone who didn’t know my brother may have thought he wasn’t affected.
But I see the tense muscle in his neck.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he mutters.
Disgust. Pure and toxic, coursing through my veins at the idea that Leo wouldn’t care if he grew into that man.
“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, with you working for Uncle Mike. Like father, like son. Should I watch what I say around you? Flinch if you move too fast? You going to show me how big a man you are with a fist to my face?” With each sentence my voice grows harder, and I stare deeper into eyes the same dark shade as mine.
“He doesn’t do that anymore,” Leo says, but his words lack conviction.
“Only because the coward knows he can’t win.” If Bill Lamont went for me like he used to, I’d break his arm. And maybe a few other bones, just to drive the point home.
I almost wish he would.
Leo closes his eyes, but I know he’s listening to me.
“I’m in town for Dash’s engagement party,” I announce, loud and proud.
This time Leo can’t hide his reaction. His whole body jerks, and his eyes flash open to glare at me.
“The fuck?”
“Yeah. I didn’t think you knew.”
And I wasn’t supposed to tell him.
But the difference between my baby brother and me is that I haven’t given up hope.
Maybe it’s naive, but under Leo’s asshole exterior I’m betting there’s a sliver of a good man to be saved. And I’m willing to carve my nails into his soft underbelly if it means I can dig that decent bit out to the surface.
Leo’s jaw clenches hard, and I watch as he silently commands his body to relax. But I have his undivided attention now.
“Our little prince is getting married. Or I guess I should say my little prince. Seeing as how I’m the only one he told. The only family member invited.”
Leo’s fingers clench around his glass, and I rejoice in the knowledge that I’m getting to him.
“Actually,” I continue, “he asked me to be his best man. Or best woman, I guess. Whatever you call it. On the happiest day of his life, I’m going to be standing beside him.” Leaning in, I drop my voice to a low, unforgiving note. “Where will you be?”
“What is this? You rubbing the shit in my face?” Leo waves for another shot and throws the alcohol back faster than the first.
“No.” I straighten on my stool.
“Sure seems like it. You get off on bragging? Want to list how many of my exes you fucked next?”
That earns a bark of laughter out of me. My brother scowls my way, and I hit him with a smirk. “Sure you wanna know?”
“Fuck you,” he mutters without real heat. All that’s left is weariness. An exhaustion usually reserved for men twice Leo’s age.
The guy is my twin, but sometimes he seems decades older. Other times I would swear he never made it past teenage nonsense. The back and forth must wear a guy out.
“I’m here because I’m confused,” I admit. “And pissed off.”
“You’re mad at me now? Huh.”
“Yeah, Leo. I’m mad.” I pick my soda up and swallow half of it in one go, the carbonation burning my sinuses. I blame the sting in my eyes on that too. “Why are you still living like this? I don’t get it. I can’t believe you want to be a part of the life. That you want to be Bill 2.0.”
“I don’t,” Leo growls, then presses his lips shut.
Finally. God, I could cheer just from that one small confession. That hint is all I need.
“Leave then.” I strip my voice of every ounce of judgment and anger. All that’s left is desperation. This choice is life and death. “I’ll help. Whatever you need.”
My brother shakes his head and waves for another tequila. “Leave it alone.”
I tilt my head at an odd angle until I capture his eyes with mine.
“Never.”
Leo snorts, then swallows the fresh drink. As if the alcohol took some of his openness away, he glares at me. “I don’t need you. That’s Dash. Go baby him.” My twin laughs hard. “Or is that why you’re here? He has a new woman to take care of him, and you’re looking for someone else to baby?”
I ignore his words as I consider the problem.
Leo wants out, but he won’t leave.
Why?
Is this him clinging to his comfort zone, or are his ties to our uncle’s criminal organization keeping him in place?
“Are you staying because Bill is making you?”
“That fucker can’t do anything to me anymore.” Leo bites the words hard, showing more of his scorn for our father. “Not since we were sixteen.”
I nod absentmindedly. That’s around when Leo got big enough to hit back.
“Is it because Mom wants you to stay?”
“Stop digging.”
That might be part of it. But I sense there’s more.
Then the answer flares in my mind, so obvious, I should’ve guessed it first. “Uncle Mike won’t give you an out.”
Leo clenches his jaw and stares toward the exit. But he doesn’t walk out. And I know deep down he wants my help. But he’s never figured out how to ask for it.
Guess I have to shove it in his face.
Good thing I’m a pushy bitch.
“He let Dash go after he paid whatever price Mike quoted him,” I point out. “I bet he’d do the same for you.”
Leo mutters something, and I lean closer on my stool. “What was that?”
My brother sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I’ve already asked.”
“And he said no?”
“No.”
“Then what did he say?”
“He gave me a number.”
A number? That means hope, and the beacon flares scorching hot in my chest. “How much?”
This time Leo does get up from his chair, slipping cash out of his back pocket.
“I know you love me, Luna.” His voice has lost every note of teasing and cockiness and exasperation. Now he just sounds tired. “But you don’t love me that much. And if it’s all the same, I’d rather not see your face when you realize it.”
My brother heads to the door, shoulders bowed, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the false animation he’d imbued himself with run dry.
“Asshole,” I mutter into my drink. He’s naive if he thinks I’m letting this drop because he decided to throw himself a pity party.
Then I remember one more important task. “Leo!”
His heavy sigh could fill the entire bar. “Yeah?”
“What’s Dad’s number?”
That earns his full attention. Looking back over his shoulder, he shoots me a disbelieving eyebrow raise. “You want to talk to him?”
I scoff. “No.”
“Then why do you want it?”
“Reasons.”
He faces me, the embodiment of wariness. “What reasons?”
I meet his stare head-on, leaving every ounce of emotion out of my voice.
“Mine.”
My brother watches me for a stretch of time before shaking his head. But as he resumes his departure, he calls out a string of numbers.
With his back turned, he misses my evil grin.