“When’s the last time you talked to them?” Dad asks.
“Maybe the day before yesterday.”
“Maybe?” he questions in an accusatory tone.
“Are you blaming me for them going AWOL? You’re the one who fired their security.”
“Those fuckers lost them on the first day. Why would I pay them another red cent if they can’t keep their eyes on two college students?”
“Yeah, well, we can’t find them either.”
“I’d expect this irresponsible shit from Bronx, but Seven?”
“Seven has got Bronx's back. He won’t let him get too far out of hand.”
“So, you think us driving down here is a waste of time?”
“I think they’re both fine, but if Mom needs a proof of life picture of them to sleep at night, then that’s what we’ll give her.”
“Agreed, let’s start with the front desk. You take the lead.”
A kid who’s probably younger than my brothers is sitting at the front desk with earbuds in and a long face. Once we see him, Dad’s hopes are quickly dashed that we’re going to get any usable information about my brothers. He doesn’t seem like he pays attention to who comes and goes at all.
“Excuse me, we’re looking for Bronx and Seven Masterson from the third floor. Have you seen them today? They’re not in their room.”
"The twins?"
"Yeah."
“Did you try their phones?”
Obviously.
“Yep, but they aren’t answering.”
“Neither one of ‘em?”
“No,” I answer impatiently. “Have you seen them or not?”
“Well, I haven’t seen them today. Maybe they’re over at the Broadchurch Grill. They’re having karaoke there tonight and most of the kids in this dorm like to go there and get drunk. The house vodka is only $3 on karaoke night.”
“Thanks.”
“Neither one of those clowns is getting on a stage to do karaoke,” I say to Dad. "They're probably not there."
“They may not go for the karaoke but they'll definitely go for the girls,” Dad reminds me.
“Mmm, you have a point.”
We’ve been on edge for so long about the people that might come after us, that I completely forgot that bagging women is like an Olympic sport to my brothers. If they’re incommunicado and not calling home, it’s probably because of some pussy.
When we arrive to the eatery, we can see the kid from the dorm desk wasn’t lying. It’s standing room only in this place. I start scanning the room looking for my brothers, which should be easy because they’re as tall as me and will definitely stick out in most crowds.
“I don’t see ‘em yet.”
But as soon as I hear the off-key baritone notes, I know we only have to look to the stage for my siblings. Both of them are sitting in two folding chairs on the stage, each of them with their hands full of ass as girls dance in their laps, while Bronx tries to belt out a very pitiful rendition of a 90's love ballad I don’t remember the name of.
“Dad.” I point to the stage with a smirk.
