So Brutus was a bathroom kind of guy. I would have never taken him for that kind of guy. I mean, my brother was, but that was because he spent way too much time shaving and doing his fucking hair for a dude.
I said what I said.
There were toiletries sorted neatly and stacked perfectly along the sides of the sink. I saw a razor, so he had to be a shaver, but there wasn’t a shred of hair in sight. So he was a clean freak. Neat. Probably drilled into him from the military.
I made a mental note to ask what branch he served with.
My question was answered when I opened the first bathroom drawer, though.
“Oh,” I said softly.
When I rolled the drawer open, there wasn’t much in there. Some Q-tips, a stack of Band-Aids, a bit of Neosporin. Some Tylenol. There was an orange bottle that looked prescription that I picked up, and when I turned it around, I realized it was a mild pain medication.
I wondered what kept him in pain like that.
But there, amidst all of the first aid stuff, was a set of wings.
Pilot’s wings.
“Air Force,” I whispered as I placed the prescription bottle back into the drawer.
I went to reach for the wings but second guessed myself. I knew enough about them to know that meant Brutus was a pilot at one point, which meant he most likely served in the Air Force. I wasn’t sure how protective of his stuff he was, though. I thought better of it and closed the drawer back up.
I turned toward the shower.
The walk-in shower gave me another glimpse into the man behind the brutal façade. There were two kinds of conditioners in the shower. Two kinds of shampoos as well. One was, I suppose, regular for men. The ol’ twelve-in-one bullshit, where you could clean yourself with it, but also wash your hair, clean your body, condition your skin, take the paint off your car, and brush your teeth with it.
Not really, but you catch my drift.
And then, he had a set of shampoo and conditioner that was formulated for dandruff. I furrowed my brow as I picked up the bottle and studied it. Yeah, it was prescription-strength dandruff shampoo.
I placed the bottle back and picked up the body wash.
I uncapped the lid and inhaled the scent of sandalwood and bourbon. It smelled just like him, and it took me a moment before I capped off the bottle and placed it back on the shelf. He had a loofah in the shower and a back scratcher. Or, washer. Whatever the fuck those loofahs on a stick were called.
I needed to up his body wash game. He needed to know about those Korean skincare things that sloughed off all of the dead skin at once. I’d never felt cleaner, the first time using one of those things.
And it seemed as if Brutus was really into cleanliness and order.
But I found it odd, because as much as he relied on his cell phone, I couldn’t find his charger. Which meant that the only logical answer is that he carried it around with him. So he could charge up wherever he was. I found that more interesting than anything else, mostly because I’d only ever met one other person that did that exact same thing. Most people needed their chargers in one specific spot so that they could find it at all costs. And usually, people had multiple ones. One in their room, one near their spot in the living room, and even possibly one in thekitchen, depending on how often they were in there cooking for themselves and shit. There was only one person that I knew who carried their charger with them wherever they went, though.
My brother.
King carried his charger around in his pocket all the damned time after missing a phone call from me when we were younger.
When I was in a car accident.
And it made me wonder what kind of event had taken place in Brutus’s life to make him want to carry his around, too.
4
BRUTUS
Lying to Anna made me feel like shit. But I had to speak with Cap without her around.
I just got an email back from our DOJ contact.
“Cap,” I barked as I stormed into the common room.
