Picking up the remote, I turned off the television, causing them both to look at me.
“Wyatt, your brother and I were about to talk about something important until your Gollum ass came over. So unless you have a good reason to be here I’m going to ask you to leave—”
“My girlfriend died today,” he said blankly, staring at me, and I froze. “Some high lunatic stabbed her. I tried to help her. He slashed my arm. I wanted to blame Ethan. But what was I going to say? Why did you stop supplying drugs to the city? It sounded senseless even to me.”
I looked at Ethan, but he was still just playing dead.
“Wyatt, I’m so sorry—”
“I need a place to stay for a few hours.” He went on, holding his hand up for the remote. When I gave it to him Ethan asked.
“Why not your own place?”
“Because people would come to check up on me. That is what happens when people like you,” he said, stuffing popcorn into his mouth. “Anyway, I really don’t have the energy to pretend to be sad in front of them, thanks to the crazy shifts I’ve been pulling.”
Wait, what?
“Pretend to be sad?” I repeated. “She was your girlfriend.”
“I slept with her a few times, we went out when I was bored, but I didn’t love her or even know her. Everyone else called her my girlfriend, so it would seem a little cruel to deny it now that she’s gone,” he replied, and I just stared at him as he drank and ate. “I came here because no one would find me and no one is dying here, so I can rest in peace, while I get the chance.”
“You aren’t even a little sad?”
He finally tore his brown eyes from the television to me. “Kind of. Like in a way you watch a deer get hit by a car sad. But that’s not sad enough. I think they expect me to be bawling or something. And if we must cry, we cry for family.”
“And if we must cry, we cry for family,” Ethan said, perfectly in sync with him.
Okay then. Walking over to him and lying back on Ethan’s chest, I just watched the movie with them.
“When are you going to kill the Finnegan brothers and get out of my city?” Wyatt took another long gulp of the scotch.
“If it’s your city, why the fuck are you asking me to save it? Why don’t you kill them yourself?” Ethan said under his breath.
“The Hippocratic oath,” Wyatt replied, and Ethan smacked the back of his head.
Wyatt paused for a moment and turned back. However, seeing me on his chest just smiling, he faced front again.
“The great Ethan Callahan, a man so dangerous people die even when he does nothing,” Wyatt muttered.
“Wyatt Callahan, a man so cunning he’s convinced the world he is an angel,” Ethan shot back.
“I—”
“Everyone but his siblings, of course. We know what you did in Boston,” Ethan said, and Wyatt froze, the bottle just at his lips. “I’m sure you did it for a good reason. Doesn’t change the fact that you did it, now, does it? That you’re just like the rest of us…both hero and villain. Savior and destroyer.”
Wyatt put the drink on the table, picking himself off the floor. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room.”
With that he walked away, but Ethan being who he was, needed to give the final blow. “One day, brother, you’re going to find out that you are much more villain than hero. Where will you hide then?”
Wyatt didn’t answer.
“You’re relentless,” I said to him when Wyatt was out of earshot.
“Someone has to be.”
TWENTY-FOUR
“Have I played the part well?
Then applaud as I exit!”
~ Emperor Augustus
FOURTEEN DAYS LATER
ETHAN
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, it’s been another heartbreaking day in Boston, with twelve more deaths, three of those due to a shoot-out with the police in Hyde Park, while the other nine were again the outcome of heroin overdoses, bringing the death toll to a ground-breaking eighty-seven people in the last twenty-one days since doctors at Boston Medical reported there might be a bad batch of drugs on the street. That means on average this drug has claimed four lives a day. Despite the warning, there hasn’t been an obvious drop in drug use. This morning Mayor Takahashi, along with Governor Vieira in a joint press conference have called for the FBI to intervene. This has already come on top of the massive push for stricter policing, a measure that has left many minority communities feeling even less protected...”
“Bagels…bagels...” I muttered to myself, opening the cabinets as the television blared in the background. “Ivy, where the hell are the bagels?” I yelled up at the ceiling.
“They’re finished!” she yelled back down.
“What do you mean they’re finished? We just bought them!”
“Well, we are going to have to buy more—”
“The reason why we just bought them is because we wanted to buy more for not having bagels the last time I asked!” How the hell did we go through so much so quickly?
“Why do you want bagels so badly?” she screamed down at me.
I just stood in the middle of the kitchen, baffled. She was insane. My wife was insane. “Why? Why? ’CAUSE I WANT TO EAT A SANDWICH, IVY!”
“STOP YELLING AT ME!”
Clenching my fist and jaw, breathing in, I spoke softer, “You can’t hear me unless I yell.”
“WHAT?”
“YOU CAN’T HEAR ME UNLESS I YELL!” I hollered because obviously now I was insane. Just fucking brilliant. Brilliant! Twenty-one days she and I had been on our own here. No, we weren’t locked. We went out, but still, every day it was just her and me. Some days it was paradise, while the next I was ready to pull my own hair out. This was how normal people lived? Fighting over food, the small as fuck master bed, on top of the even smaller bathroom, having to get tissues and her damn tampons? No wonder spouses killed each other so often. They seemed small issues, but after dealing with them day after day, it really started to nag at you. If I ever wanted to eat something, the most effort I had to make was a damn phone call…apparently that made me spoiled, so be it.
“Don’t get your knickers all in a damn twist. Jeez,” she muttered, coming into the kitchen and when she did the anger I had melted away. That easy. She was stunning. The white dress she wore clung to her breasts perfectly before flowing out at her waist. She even managed to curl her blond hair at the ends. Placing her purse on the counter, she walked to one of the drawers and pulled out…
“You can’t be serious,” I said, looking down at the tortilla.
“Do not discriminate against wheat,” she replied, placing it right in front of me. “And we’re about to go out. Why do you want to eat now?”
Frowning, I undid the tie for the damn tortilla. “Isn’t it common to sneak food into a show?”
She rolled her eyes at me and then took a step back, spinning. “How do I look?”
“Like you don’t want to go out,” I said, placing the ham down.
“Perfect.” She giggled, kissing my check as she stole a piece of bacon. “This looks good! Make me one too!”