“I’ve got work to do.” It’s a poor excuse, and we both know it.
“So, delegate.” Terry is firm.
“I don’t want to talk about this, Terry.”
He smiles. “You think your mom is going to buy that explanation?” It’s a rhetorical question. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.” It’s a lie. I don’t get a say in the matter.
I stand up. The room sways a little, but it could be worse. I could’ve drunk myself into oblivion, puked on Terry’s boots, and then staggered around the city searching for Cash.
We don’t speak in the car. I press my forehead against the cool passenger window and close my eyes, my brain mercifully blank.
Mom is waiting for us in the air-conditioned kitchen when we arrive, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a warning that she means business. Cash is already there. He looks broken even though there isn’t a mark on him, and that twin connection that has been erratic since Remy Jones walked into our lives instinctively begins to repair itself.
I pull a stool out from under the breakfast bar and sit. This is where Mom’s interventions always take place. Boardrooms are too formal; comfort and familiarity are integral to her offspring’s attention span, and to her thought process.
Mom places a mug of black coffee in front of me and sits across from me and my twin brother cradling her favorite mug with both hands. Her hair is darker now than it used to be, the spiral curls still trailing down her back. She has never been inside a gym in her life, but her core is strong, her arms and legs toned from swimming in their pool every morning. Her strength comes from within. It’s a state of mind rather than a physical achievement.
Terry stands back. Present but giving the floor to our mom.
“Who wants to begin?” Her gaze drifts between me and Cash, waiting for one of us to be brave enough to speak. When it’s clear that neither of us knows what to say, she continues, “Okay, I’ll go first.”
I recognize that tone. It’s laced with disappointment but with a backbone that supports our entire empire. I swallow a mouthful of coffee. It scalds my tongue, exactly what I need.
“Remy Jones. Name ring any bells?” She watches us for a reaction. “College student. Employed at the Rinse until a couple months ago. Received an ultrasound scan earlier today that confirmed she is expecting twins.”
The pregnancy is real. But, of course, I already knew that when it was Remy’s closing statement rather than her opening gambit.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here,” Mom continues, “and suggest that one of you is responsible.”
I wait for Cash to speak. I’m close to all my siblings but sharing a womb with Cash means that I can preempt his next move, I know what he’s going to say as the words form on his tongue. He’s the speaker. Does he speak for both of us? Sometimes, I guess, but mostly he understands that I need time to stand back and ponder while he crashes straight into the thick of the action and thinks about it after the event.
This time, he’s quiet. Too quiet. He doesn’t fidget in his seat or raise his eyes or clear his throat. Even mom watches him with narrowed eyes.
“Not one of us,” I say. “Both of us.”
Mom tilts her head like a puppy trying to understand a new instruction. “Let me get this straight. You both fucked the same girl.”
I open my mouth to protest, and she raises a finger to silence me.
“I’m not finished, Bastien.” I know it’s bad when she uses my full name. “How old are you? Don’t answer that. And don’t think that this doesn’t apply to you either, Cassius.” She flashes dark eyes at my brother. “You understand how protection works, right?”
This time, she does expect an answer.
“Yes, Mom.” It’s puny, but what else is there to say? “In the heat of the moment?—”
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Bastien.” It’s my turn to get the death-stare. “Did I teach you nothing? I don’t give a shit about the consequences for you; it’s that poor girl I’m concerned about right now.”
“Mom, you don’t need to?—”
“Stop right there. I do need to worry about it because clearly you two can’t own your mistakes.” She steeples her fingers and rests her chin on them. “I need to know how this happened.”
“Mom,” Cash speaks for the first time since I got here. “I’m not sharing the details with you.”
“You’ll do as you’re fucking told, Cassius. Was this a threesome kind of thing? Did she agree?—”
“Oh, no, Mom.” I raise both hands, palms outward, to stop her. “You know that’s not who we are. It was consensual. On separate occasions. She… Remy… didn’t realize that we were twins. I…we… had no idea… about each other.”
Fuck. I run a business with a billion-dollar turnover, and I can’t get my words out. I feel like a kid who doesn’t know the right words to articulate how they’re feeling.
