Vivid Lies (7 page)

"Then why?"

Kane looks over at me once we are moving with the morning traffic.
 

"A thousand other reasons. Money, convenience, mutual enjoyment. Sex."

I shake my head in frustration.
 

"You and Brooklyn are perfect for each other. She is just as distrusting as you are."

Kane winks and shrugs. I watch as he drives. He looks relaxed without a worry. Not for the first time, I envy Brooklyn. The way she can relax and throw caution to the wind astounds me. Kane is just like her. They don't think about every consequence and outcome. If they do, they don't care. They just live.
 

Brooklyn can get away with it because I am the opposite. While she's the balloon floating to the sky, I'm the tethered string that holds her from disappearing in the sky.
 

"What about your brother and his fiancée? They looked in love," I ask, turning in my seat to look at him.

He sighs and turns down a narrow alley, parking in a lot behind a dreary building.

"I think he's happy right now. Amanda makes him happy for now. That's all that matters. We can't worry about the future all the time or we forget to live in the present."

I stare at him like he just grew another head. My voice is almost shrill when I formulate words.
 

"What do you mean we can't worry about the future? Isn't that what we all we strive for, the future? If you don't worry about it then it's just chaos and madness." I throw my hands in the air when he starts to laugh at me.
 

"If you're too busy worrying about the future, you can't live in the present."

I fold my arms across my chest. I can't argue with this man. If Kane was a color he would be dark gray. Like charcoal. Graphite. The color of a pencil lead. It isn't dark enough to be black but I don't see enough light.
 

"This is where she works?" I ask when we stop, looking around at the littered parking lot, overflowing dumpster and broken window next door. Our Jeep is sitting untouched in the back of the lot.
 

"What did you expect?"

"Something . . . nicer."

"It's not the worst place she could work," Kane says as he gets out of the car. I meet him around the car to grab my bags from him.
 

"So, why are you in here as much as you are?" I ask him because it's been on my mind since Brooklyn told me about him.
 

"Working, usually. I end up wherever my subjects take me."

"I see. Thank you for the ride, Kane," I say as I walk toward our Jeep. "I'll send cash for the gas."

I unlock the car and throw my bags in back. I'm pretty sure I missed the boats launching but I can get some shots in still.
 

"Hey, London," Kane shouts right before I get in.
 

"How can I tell you two apart?"

"You can't."

"Your boyfriend can."
 

"Miles? Not a boyfriend, and we grew up with him. I'm pretty sure he guesses most of the time based on clothing or personality."

I grin and wave as I start the car. The air conditioning died as soon as we moved to Florida, so I roll down the windows and follow Kane out of the parking lot. The neighboring businesses look as rundown as the club, and I hate that my sister is here late at night.
 

Brooklyn swears she's safe and nothing will happen to her, but she thinks she's invincible. Always has. I'm the one who reminds her that we are human. Our bones can break. Our skin can bleed. Not that she always listens.
 

Brooklyn

The view outside our apartment sucks. I'm not the one looking for landscapes or the beauty in the world. That's London. But I know when I look out my window, and see the overpass and nothing but cement, that it's not pretty.
 

Back home, my bedroom window looked out over our backyard. Miles's yard was viewable, with the swings and treehouse. The grass gave in to the trees in the back. All I saw was green.
 

Now I see filth. Cars rushing to get somewhere, only to rush to get away. I lean over the railing of the fire escape with a coffee cup in one hand and a cigarette between my lips. I'm up before most of the world, so I take advantage of the rare occasion. I watch as the highway turns from lonely to overcrowded. The silence breaks with the sounds of neighbors and the traffic.
 

It's depressing.
 

"I thought you quit," I hear behind me.
 

Miles is leaning out our window, ruining my moment of solitude.
 

"I don't like to be a quitter," I mutter as I drop the cigarette butt to the alley below me.
 

I turn and hand my coffee to Miles and he backs away, letting me crawl back through the window. He takes my hand and helps me get through without face-planting. My fingers warm where our hands touch. His eyes find mine and I soften under his look.
 

Miles has always had that effect on me. Around him, I didn't have to be the hard ass or the stronger one. I didn't need to balance out the extremes of my twin sister. Miles was the only person who could see the layers that made up what was between us. With him, we were free.
 

"London is already somewhere," I tell him.
 

"That's fine."
 

I give him a questioning look. "Hungry?" I ask him, because he always is. The poor guy probably can't cook to save his own life.
 

"Starving."

Lucky for Miles, my sister and I have been fending for ourselves most of our lives. Dad didn't come home early enough to make dinner, and if he did, it was hot dogs or cereal. Even hot dogs he managed to burn or ruin. What recipes we do know, Miles's mom taught us.
 

I grab my coffee from him and head to the kitchen. Our fridge is bare but I have enough to throw together spaghetti. The breakfast of champions. I make note to go grocery shopping later with my tips from dancing this week. With the stage show, I made more than enough to fill the fridge. Maybe even a cheap bottle of wine.

Miles watches me closely while I move around the tiny kitchen. I'm aware that I'm not wearing a bra and my shirt is thin enough I'm sure he can see my nipples. He doesn't comment or let me catch him staring though. Never does.
 

"Who was the dude in the hallway the other day?" he finally asks as I drain the noodles.
 

"What dude?"

"He said he knew you from the club. Lives on this floor. He gave me shit for being outside your door the morning after that bad storm."

"Must have been Kane."

I hand Miles a plate and we go to the couch to eat. I pull my legs up underneath me and flip on the TV. We only have basic cable so I settle on the morning news.
 

"I don't like him. I think you should stay away from him."

I look over at him to see his serious stare burning into me. My skin prickles with the intensity. Miles is protective of us both, especially since we moved to Florida, but he's never flat out inserted himself in our business.
 

"Pardon me? I don't think I caught that. I swear you just told me what to do," I grit out.
 

Miles sighs and sets his empty plate on the coffee table. I see he's uncomfortable in the way he's running his hands through his hair and avoiding looking at me.
 

"I don't think he's good for you. Either of you."

"What the fuck does London have to do with this? You don't know anything about him, Miles, so don't be a douche."
 

Kane isn't the worst guy I've brought around. While London went on few dates with the smart kids in school, I slept with older men. Guys with criminal records and more issues than Playboy. Every man I was involved with wasn't good for me. This isn't new.
 

Miles stares at me for a long time, seemingly debating what to say. He knows better than to tell me what to do. Like any good rebel would, I tend to do the exact opposite. I see the regret on his face and I almost feel bad for making him put up with me. With both of us.
 

He's been our best friend through every girly spat, teenage meltdown, and every bad day. Who knows how many tears he wiped, boys he beat up, or nights he worried over one or both of us? I used to wish we were his little sisters, bound by blood. He would tell me being bound by choice was stronger than blood. He said he loved us because he wanted to, not because he had to.
 

He's a good guy. Taking pity on him, I retract my claws. I won't do a damn thing I don't want to do, but I can set his worried little head at ease.
 

"I will take your suggestion under consideration," I say with a smile hoping to break the tension.
 

His grin is my reward and my heart pumps at the sight. For some reason, pleasing him has always been an accomplishment for me. Not for London, because she was naturally everything she should be. It took some effort on my part to make Miles smile like that.
 

I loved it. I craved it some days.
 

We relax into the couch and watch the news. I haven't lived here long enough to feel like a local yet. It's always a little weird watching the news and seeing areas you don't know or haven't heard of. Besides Stephanie's and the apartment, I haven't explored that much. This place still feels temporary even though it's supposed to be home.
 

I look over at the guy responsible for getting us out just before it was too late. It's funny to think of running away when you're twenty-four, but that's what it feels like. Under the cover of night, we simply drove away. We owe that all to him. He saved us.
 

We didn't say goodbye or tell anyone where we went. We just ran and left my father behind with all his demons.
 

Sometimes when I hear London screaming in her sleep, I wonder just how many demons followed us anyway.
 

I stretch my bare legs over Miles's lap and sink into the soft couch, feeling the consequences for waking up early. His large hands cover my feet and softly rub my sore soles. I've had the stage for three nights in row. The money is worth it, but my body is finally backlashing. I let out a soft moan when he thumbs push deep into my heel.
 

Our eyes connect and I watch as his darken.

"You kissed her," I blurt. The moment is too heavy. I don't do heavy well. I like mindless and shallow.
 

"I did." He's watching me, trying to read me and what I feel.
 

I should be mad. I should be angry at the look he just gave me after he kissed my sister. One of the downfalls of being identical is that if someone is attracted to you, they are attracted to your sister. There are no physical differences. Neither one of us went through the trouble of changing our looks so we would be different.
 

"I told her it was a mistake and to forget that it happened. I don't want our friendship to change. I don't know what came over me."

"Funny. That's what you told me after you kissed me."

His eyes snap to mine and his body stiffens under my legs before he pushes them off him.
 

"Does she know? About that night in the rain?" I ask quietly. Just speaking the words make me nervous. I never kept a secret from my twin in my life.
 

I watch the muscles working in his jaw. He always does that when he has something to say but doesn't want to voice it.

"Probably."

I swallow the lump in my throat as I recall that night. Miles stands and starts to pace the tiny living room. He looks ridiculous taking four steps only to turn around and take four more.
 

"The storm was rolling in. We should have been there for her," I say, trying to hide the guilt that's swallowing me.
 

"You wanted to go to that party. I wanted to stop you," he adds.
 

I'm not stupid. I don't believe in the fairy tales and true love like London does. I believe in lust, sex, and desperation. Miles acted out of desperation. He wanted me to stay, I wanted to leave. He got my attention. That was probably the case with London as well.
 

And that's all that was, I tell myself. But London will dissect and mull over every detail of that kiss. She will wonder why and what it means. Where I call it as I see it, she will see something more.
 

"Don't fuck with her, Miles," I warn.
 

"Fuck, Brooklyn," he growls, turning to me. "That is the last thing I'm trying to do."

I nod and lean back, acting satisfied and bored with the discussion. I don't want to talk about it anymore. He told me to forget it happened and I will. If I know anything about Miles, I do know he loves us both and wouldn't hurt us. It's how he loves us that I'm unclear about.