Chapter #37His Brother's Keeper by: Seuzz   "Do I need to change?" you ask.
"No, I like you just the way you are," he laughs. "I need to change, though." He looks over at the fake Patterson. "Let's step inside and finish off this swap." The golem gets out of the car. "We'll be back in a minute. Keep the car running."
You put on the parking brake and drum your fingers as you wait. You glance in the rear-view mirror, and Jessica's pinched and unhappy face looks back. With a sigh you straighten your hair and try to relax. Unhappiness seems to come naturally to Jessica. You pull your hair back, and your jawline tightens. If you were in charge, the way you ought to be-- Yes, with this face and these legs and these buns and these breasts ... You cup them and smile grimly down at them; they are so tender and sensitive, and feel so good in your hands ... You close your eyes ... Boys are so stupid, they should be easy to manage with these assets, and it would feel so good to have a good-looking hunk sucking on them and promising to do whatever you told him--
"Okay, you can do that on your own time." You jump at the sound of Joe Durras's rough but amused voice, and look up guiltily. It's the one you picked up-- No, it's just Patterson, now dressed like the real one. He dashes around the car to the passenger side and hops in. "Okay, back to my house. This guy's house." He drums his chest.
Grimly, you drive off; in the rear-view mirror you see the fake Patterson get into his own car and follow.
"So, what did you and Durras do on your date?" your seatmate asks. His smile seems a horrible parody of the real Joe's.
"Talked."
"Is that all? Man, you really do deserve your reputation."
"And what reputation is that?" Jessica's personality is still near the surface.
"A frigid bitch. No one's good enough for you." You bite your lip at the blunt words. "Don't take it personally, Prescott. You're not really this girl, you know. Though I guess you can stay as her, if you want, after we're done this afternoon."
"What about the real girl?"
"She can stay where she is. Who would miss her, as long as you're filling the hole she's left behind? You can do her perfectly, I can tell."
"Are you going to stay as Joe?"
"I haven't decided yet," he says, and pulls back to his side of the car.
"What's so important about him?" you ask after a bit.
"None of your business. And don't go getting ideas about snooping inside this mask. While you were gone I coated it with some of that special goop. I'm the only one who can wear it now."
You don't mention the other possibility, that you can get to the real Joe Durras if you can get the Patterson mask off him. "Well, I'm only a junior member of this team, so I guess I have to do what you say."
"You'll be a senior member after we get Joe's brother, but I'm serious when I say you need to stay away from Joe and Frank." He purses his lips. "Look, let's just say I'm laying an exclusive claim to them. Senior members get to make exclusive claims. Since I've picked two, you'll get to pick two. Is that fair?"
You shrug.
"Okay," he continues. "I've picked two. Gordon will get to pick two. Then Caleb, and then you."
"Caleb?" you ask in surprise.
"Yeah, he met his quota yesterday. We'll get together tomorrow--" He taps his knuckle furiously on the window, and frowns. "We'll get together somehow and talk about things."
The rest of the drive--which isn't long--passes in silence, each of you wrapped up in your own thoughts.
* * * * *
"Are you still studying?" Joe hollers as he walks in the front door. He has an arm draped around your neck, and--per his instructions--you've an arm wrapped around his waist.
It's a small house, and through the entryway you can see a small living room and dining nook. Frank Durras--tall, dark, and saturnine--sits at the table with books and papers spread around him. He looks up and takes the pencil out of his mouth. "Some of us care about our grades, Joe," he says quietly. His gaze flicks in your direction before returning to his brother.
"Come on, lemme do your homework for you, then we can go have some fun."
"I thought you were on a double date," Frank says.
"Meh, the other guys fell through. We can scare up a girl for you, though. It's not like you can get one on your own."
"Thanks for all the offers to help me out," Frank says dryly. "But I'm not sure I can trust you."
Joe releases you and saunters over to the table, where he leans over Frank's shoulder and examines his work. "You forgot to carry the two," he says, and presses a finger to a spot on the paper.
"See what I mean?" Frank frowns. "You don't carry numbers in chemistry."
"You don't?" Joe grins.
"Fuck off."
Joe chuckles and leans back against the bar behind Frank. From under his shirt he takes a mask and slips it behind his back. "All I know is that I'm a hell of a lot faster than you. If you let me do your work for you, you'd have more time to-- Well, whatever it is that you'd do if you had more time." He looks up at you, and his eyes narrow meaningfully.
So you drop into the chair opposite Frank. "I wouldn't trust him either, Frank. Everyone knows your brother is an idiot."
"Everyone's a quicker study than he is, that's for sure." Frank's laugh is very quiet and dry.
Behind him, Joe takes a step forward. Maybe it's coincidence or maybe it's a kind of sixth sense, but Frank quickly turns his head in time to catch the movement. Joe raises his eyebrows into an expression of innocence, but Frank keeps staring at him.
"I wish you'd do something with us," you say, conscious that you're babbling. "Maybe not a double date, but something." Frank turns his head fractionally so he can look sidelong at you, but Joe remains pinned to the floor. "Joe and me had a really good talk. He's a really nice guy, and I feel like I got to know him. I'd like to get to know you."
Frank's eyes glitter like mica. His lips part into something halfway between a tight smile and a snarl. You shiver at the sudden impression of a wolf lurking just below his skin.
Joe moves, and Frank darts back around at him, but Joe has moved more quickly still, and has an arm around his neck and the mask to his face. Frank lunges backward at his brother--
And Joe's face turns very white and very crimson, and his mouth drops open. He seems frozen in place, but it's the frozen posture of someone who feels himself clasped tightly. Both brothers remain in their motionless positions for what seems a very long minute--
And then Frank, fatally, shifts his head by just a bit, and brings his face too close to the mask. His back arches, and Joe, with a gasp, relaxes and staggers back. Frank rises half out of his chair with the blue mask latched onto his face, then collapses backward into his chair. The mask disappears into him, and he slides to the floor with a bump.
"Jesus, that was close," Joe gasps, and falls back against the bar. He takes a couple of deep breaths, then fastens his eyes on you. They flash with anger. "You could have been a little more of a help."
"I was doing my best to distract him," you insist.
"Yeah, well, with Frank you--" He closes his mouth with a snap. "Never mind, it all worked out okay. But fuck!" He pulls a phone out of his pocket and quickly dials. "Yeah, we're set. Get in here," he says into it, then turns it off. "Come around here," he orders you. "I'm gonna take this mask off, and I want you to wake me up as soon as it's off. We don't have time to fuck around." He drops to the ground next to the prostrate Frank Durras, and reaches up to his face.
As Patterson's own features reappear, his eyes go in and out of focus and close as his head lolls. With more satisfaction than you know is appropriate, you slap him hard across the cheek. He grunts, and his eyes pop open again. You slap him again. "Christ," he gasps. You slap him a third time. "Okay, that's enough!" he cries.
Behind you comes the sound of a door opening, and the golem-Patterson steps into the house. "Over here," Patterson calls to it, and orders it onto the ground, where he pulls its face off. Joe Durras's face reappears, and Patterson drops the free mask onto him. Joe's features remain, but his eyes open.
"What are you doing?" you ask in horror.
"I told you, I put that special goop inside his mask," Patterson says. "He's a slave. Aren't you, Durras?"
Joe's features settle into an expression that mixes stoicism, sadness, and loathing. "Yeah," he murmurs.
* * * * *
Fifteen minutes later, you are sitting at the table with the enslaved Joe Durras and two versions of Steve Patterson--the other is Frank Durras under a mask. The real Patterson is brushing the inside of Frank Durras's mask with a foul-smelling mixture. "So what now?" you ask.
"Just what I was about to ask you," he says. "As soon as I get this done, it goes back on Frank, and I swap back with Joe. So, I'll be at Eastman, starting this week. You can join me there, or you can go back to Westside.
"You're a senior member now," he continues. "So I'm leaving it up to you."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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