“Ain’t that the truth.”
“You wanna come in?” I asked. “I’m sure we’ve got somethin’ to drink. If not, the girls probably have somethin’.”
Bishop’s eyes caught on something over my shoulder. “Please tell me neither of your girls have long blonde hair,” he said, staring.
I turned to see what he was looking at and laughed as I caught sight of Charlie carrying a bag of garbage down the stairs.
“Draco,” she called. “Good! Carry this shit to the dumpster for me, would you?”
I stepped to the side and I knew the second she saw Bishop.
“Hello there,” she said, smiling huge as she strode toward us, her hips swaying. “I don’t think we’ve met. Did you just move in?”
“Charlie,” I said, amusement making my lips twitch as she reached out to shake his hand with the one not holding a huge bag of trash. “This is my friend Bishop, the one I was telling you about.”
“Ah, fuck,” she said as they shook hands.
“Nice to meet you, Charlie,” Bishop said, still shaking her hand.
“Yeah, you, too,” she replied snatching her hand back. She looked at me. “I’m going to kill you.”
I laughed as she shoved the bag of garbage at my chest.
“We’ll come by in a bit,” I said, grabbing the bag before it could fall and bust open all over the ground.
“Door’s locked,” she said happily, walking away as she flipped me off over her shoulder.
“I’ve got a key!”
“Bullshit!”
I laughed as I walked across the parking lot to where the dumpster was.
“That was Charlie?” Bishop said, glancing over his shoulder as he walked alongside me.
“That’s her,” I replied, tossing the garbage. “Can’t believe you never met her.”
“It wasn’t like I had a lot of visitors,” Bishop replied. “I don’t think I even saw the damn visiting room.”
“I shoulda came by,” I said as we walked back toward the apartments. Bishop had grown up in the foster system and didn’t really have any family. I’d known he was in there without any visitors.
“Fuck that,” Bishop said instantly. “I wouldn’t have had you approved. You got the fuck out, man, I didn’t want you comin’ back in to see me.”
“Still should’ve,” I said apologetically.
Bishop waved me off. He looked up as Curt’s bike pulled into the parking lot.
“Jesus,” he said, looking over at me. “Knew you had a twin, but that’s weird as fuck.”
I laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Didn’t want to ask,” he said as Curt walked toward us. “But there a reason both of you look like you got hit by a truck?”
“Small disagreement between brothers,” I replied as Curt reached us. “Shoulda seen us the day it happened.”
“Curt, this is Bishop—”
“Hey,” Curt said, reaching out to shake Bishop’s hand. “How’s it goin’?”
“Not bad,” Bishop replied. “Glad to be breathin’ fresh air again.”
“If you can call this fresh,” Curt said jokingly. The air wasn’t as smoky as it had been the week before, but it still stank.
Bishop took a deep breath. “Smells fresh as fuck to me.”
We all laughed.
“We got anything to drink?” I asked Curt. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d been to the grocery store.
“Nah, but I’m sure Charlie does,” he replied. He led us toward the girls’ apartment.
“She might not let us in,” I told him.
“Why the hell not?” he asked, glancing over at me.
I jerked my head toward Bishop, and Curt’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“What was that all about, anyway?” Bishop asked as we reached the door.
“Tell you later,” I said as Curt swung the front door open without knocking.
“Lucy, I’m home,” he called, striding inside like he owned the place.
“You have your own fucking apartment,” Charlie replied, throwing her hands up in the air.
“We don’t have anything to offer our guest,” Curt replied easily, going for the fridge.
“Then go to the store,” Charlie snapped. She looked past him to where Bishop and I were standing just inside the front door. “Jesus. Fine. Come in, sit down, eat my food and drink my beer. You know you’re going to anyway.”
“We come here because we feel so welcome,” I said, making Bishop laugh.
I left him in the tiny living room and moved toward the kitchen.
“Cool it, would you?” I said quietly to Charlie as I grabbed a couple beers from the fridge.
“You cool it,” she snapped, even quieter. “You’re the one who brought sexual kryptonite into my apartment!”
“Sexual kryptonite?” I asked with a laugh.
“You won’t be laughing when I climb on top of your friend and start stripping,” she hissed.
“Please don’t do that,” I replied seriously.
“If I pictured men while I was masturbating,” she said, making me jerk back in disgust, “that is who I would picture.”
“Please stop,” I pleaded. “Jesus Christ.”
“If he has a dimple,” she said, pointing at me, “I will not be held accountable for my actions.” She leaned closer. “And I bet he’s loud in bed.”