Then I walked in, and Lancaster thought I was my brother, Perry. Yeah, we look alike. Happens when you share a womb.
Needless to say, I left without touching the cards, which was probably for the best.
Andrews prattles on some more. “I met him, you know? Your brother. Goes by the name Sawyer. Not Perry.”
Don’t care. Don’t fucking care.
He continues his one-sided conversation. One I’m unable to avoid eavesdropping on due to my shitty luck of being stuck in a car with him for another five minutes. “Nice guy. Funny as hell. Way more personable than you. Clearly, he got all the charisma in the family.”
This is maddening. Why is it that people can close their eyes if they don’t want to see something, but closing their ears isn’t possible? Flaw in our design.
“Speaking of family, he became a father recently.”
To drown him out, I turn up the radio. I only hope he doesn’t tap louder with that fucking ring finger on the wheel.
“Twins. You believe that? What are the odds, huh?”
Still don’t care.
“He’s got abeautifulwife. He showed me pictures of her and the babies. He was never adopted. Aged out of foster care. Did you know that?”
Yes. Don’t fucking care, though.
“Yep, he’s done quite well for himself. Lots of friends. Owns a nice house. He’s a bodyguard at Redleg Security. That’s my buddy Big Al’s company. Not sure if I mentioned that before. Well, Al’s retired, but he still owns Redleg. Before that, they served together in the Army. He’s known your brother for many years. Nothing but good things to say about him.”
How nice for them. Don’t recall asking, though.
Andrews prattles on without taking a breath. “You’d probably like him if you gave him a chance. No offense, but your brother has way nicer skin than you do. I’m surprised you’re twins. I mean, you look the same, but he’s clearly taken better care of himself. Perhaps he could teach you a few things.”
That does it. Not because I’m vain—I’m not.
But because I can’t stand this shit for another second longer. It’s like trying to sleep in the middle of a drum line rehearsal.
My inside thoughts come out in a barely restrained roar. “Read my lips, Andrews. I don’t fucking care. I. Do. Not. Care. Not one fucking bit. How else can I spell it out for you? Do you need to hear it in French? Should I tattoo it across my forehead?”
“Easy, kid. I just—” he starts.
“I don’t care about my brother, hislovelyfamily, or his job. I don’t care that he’s a father. Or that his wife is beautiful. She could be a model or a freaking blow-up doll, and Istillwouldn’t care. He could have twins, triplets, or a herd of goats, and guesswhat... I still wouldn’t care.No, I don’t want to meet him.No, I don’t want to talk to him. Andno, I don’t give a fuck to learn about his life or tell him about mine. Not. Interested. So shut the hell up.”
“So that’s a no on sending him a message, then?”
“It’s a big fucking no. Keep your dick out of my salsa.”
Dammit. Now I’m thinking about Lila again since that quip was straight out of her playbook. Only she wouldn’t have saiddick. She’d probably say willy. I hate that I like that almost as much as I hate how she’s never more than a single thought away.
Unaffected by my rage-filled rant, he says, “You let me know if you change your mind. Like I said, at the end of the day, it all comes down to family. You don’t want this job to rob you of a full life. And if you continue down this path, that’s exactly what will happen.”
“Hey, did you know if you make your lips touch, you can shut the fuck up? Give it a try.”
As soon as he parks, I bolt from the car and pound swiftly to the front porch. Although I’d love to get a few minutes to myself, we’ve got a case to solve. Fortunately, Andrews is old and out of shape, which gives me thirty seconds of peace before he finally joins me.
He hovers his finger over the doorbell. “Are you ready to take the lead on this one?”
The case is a string of violent home invasions in Florida, Mississippi, and Louisiana—all following the same MO. It was handed to the FBI to solve since it crosses state lines. Our task force split up this morning, each of us heading out to investigate the various crime scenes and interview the witnesses. Andrews and I were lucky enough to get a local case here in Tampa.
“If you were really concerned about whether I was ready, we could have been talking about it in the car instead of the nonsense you were rambling on about over the last five miles.”
He glares at me over the top of his sunglasses. “Answer the question, hotshot.”
