“I’m so lonely,” she says sadly. “I miss you … You have each other, and I got…”
“You got our parents' fortune,” I tell her sternly. “You got every cent, and don’t pretend you’d give it up for us. We’re not going to play the puppets in your little play, so you might as well give up and get. Fucking. Lost.”
With that, I finally turn around and walk away, and this time, she doesn’t follow.
But the image of her quivering bottom lip is etched onto my brain now, and I know it will be even harder to fall asleep tonight.
3
Parker
Painting eyes is a motherfucking bitch.
I've struggled with it for years. A gaze can hold so many emotions, and I struggle to catch them all with my paintbrush. But still, I try.
My favorite way to practice is to draw myself and my brother. Two identical faces stare at me from the canvas with blank white spaces where the eyes should be. It's time to tackle the hardest part.
Picking up a paintbrush, I mix the perfect shade of gray that's the same color as our irises. I take a deep breath and get to work.
Hours must pass, because next thing I know, Kade's calling me downstairs for dinner.
I leave the makeshift studio my brother created for me beneath the roof of the apartment. I don't even look at the finished painting, unable to be critical of my own work. I tell myself I'll show it to Kade later. He’s always honest in a kind way.
We sit down to a dinner of the takeout I ordered earlier, and I tell my brother all I've been up to, but he's stubbornly quiet and pissed off again tonight. Every night lately has been like this. Since we lost June, Kade has retreated into the abyss of his mind. Usually, he'd at least let me in, but this time, the door is shut, bolted, and locked twice.
"I'm going out tonight." Kade clears the table and starts doing the dishes.
"Again?"
"Got a problem?" he asks over his shoulder.
I don't answer, throwing my legs on the table where we've just eaten. My brother's pissing me off, so why wouldn't I get to piss him off, too?
The moment he turns around and sees my feet up, he grunts for me to take them off.
"I'm coming with you," I tell him resolutely, but he just laughs in return. "I'm serious, Kade, I want to get out of this fucking place."
"I don't think that's a good idea." He grabs his leather jacket and puts it on. I guess by going out tonight, he meant going out right the fuck now. Like the jerk can't stand to be in my company for five fucking minutes. Anger boils inside me, and I have to bite my lip, so I don't tell Kade what I really think about his stupid games.
"I painted today," I tell him.
"Oh, yeah?" His face lights up. Hope is such a wonderful thing. "Can I see?"
I guide him into my makeshift atelier where the portrait of us is still drying. I wait until Kade joins me, then flip on the light switch. Our mirror images on the canvas stare back at us, so similar yet so vastly different.
The eyes... The eyes came out perfectly this time. Kade's gaze is serious, holding back on the viewer as though he doesn't want his secrets revealed. Mine is open, mischievous, and dark at the same time. So very alike yet like two completely different people.
"What do you think?" I ask after a long silence.
"Looks great." Kade claps me on the back. "Great job, kid."
I hate it when he calls me that. Forever fucking reminding me that I'm younger than him, as if I could ever forget.
"Tell me honestly." I know I'm digging a grave for my own confidence, but I need this. "Please, man. I worked really hard on it."
"Well..." Kade inspects the painting up close. "It's a great work of art... I just don't think we look like ourselves at all."
"You don't?"
He shakes his head. "Something's off for me. Maybe the eyes. You don't look like that in real life."
"Like what?"
"That... serious." He chuckles. "I'm the serious one, remember?"
It's interesting that he can differentiate us even in the portrait. I hide the smile from my face and nod. "Thanks for the honesty. See you tomorrow."
He waves and heads back downstairs, closing the door behind him as he leaves the apartment. I start mixing a vibrant, dark, and rich shade of red and carefully dip my biggest paintbrush in the bloody color. Then I splatter the paint over the portrait.
Red splotches bloom across the painting. I'm not careful. I decorate the canvas with those red stains until the eyes are all that remain, staring accusingly at me. Happy with my accomplishment, I leave the studio and pour myself a generous glass of cheap wine from the deli down the street.
The buzzer sounds minutes later, and I pick myself up with a groan to answer the bell.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Kara." The voice is nervous, young. A girl.
"Who?"
"Um, Kara." I can practically see her fidgeting. "I was here a few days ago... We met at the club?"
I remember the redhead then. Grinning, I buzz her through, and a moment later, she appears on the doorstep of our apartment, holding a wet umbrella and hiding her mascara-smudged face from me.
"I'm so sorry I just dropped by," she mutters, kicking off her ankle boots and heading straight for the couch. I groan inwardly. I had no intention of entertaining one of my brother's ex-conquests, but it looks as if I have no choice. I join the redhead on our couch, and she smiles weakly at me. "I should have called first."
"Probably." I shrug. "So, what's up?"
"My boyfriend just broke up with me," she whispers. "I'm sorry. I know I should've told you I was with someone when we met, but... yeah." Her eyes are as big as saucers as they meet mine, begging for forgiveness. "I'm really sorry, Kade."
Oh, she thinks I'm my brother.
I'm about to set her straight, but something keeps my mouth shut. I'm wondering how I can play this to my advantage. How I can manipulate Kara into doing something for me.
"What are you doing here, Kara?" I finally ask, my eyes scanning her face for a sign of weakness I can exploit. "How do I fit into all of this?"
"I... I didn't know where else to go." She starts crying, quiet little sobs wracking her body. I pick myself up from the couch and bring her a glass of water. She gulps it down gratefully before speaking again. "I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't have come here, but I didn't know where else to go."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not." She puts the glass down, and some water sloshes over the rim. I watch the ring forming on the coffee table as she sobs softly. "I'll go. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," I repeat. "You can stay for a while. What would make you feel better?"
The sobs stop as if on cue. She wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her black sweater and raises them to meet mine. There's not a hint of sadness in her gaze now. No, she stares at me with pure, unfiltered lust. So that's why she came here. Guess Kade's dick worked its magic on her. And my thoughts are confirmed when the redhead speaks up again.