INIQUITOUS

CHAPTER LX

CHAPTER LX

           

ETON WAS A PLEADING PUPPY. Wide-eyed and disconsolate, he asked for the tenth time to join the Huehnergards' for Thanksgiving dinner. I was unmoved by his wet eyes and puckered bottom lip. I found him to be a pesky fly and one unrestrained moment and he would be dead on the floor with a gaping wound. "No," I told him, my eyebrows tugged down in a cross expression. "Fuck off. You can spend the day with your favourite sibling. Bond over turkey and hard liquor."

"You're a heartless slut," he kicked my shin on his way to the fridge, opened the door and reached for a cold can of cider. He tossed it in the air, a thoughtful expression on his face as he caught his drink, and then a slow smile. "Maybe I could take your place. Bludgeon you to an early grave, and arrive on Winnie's doorstep with an apology, some flowers and my sincerest wishes to start over. She told me she appreciates a beard on men. I'll skip shaving today. Maybe I'll even stop shaving my balls, show I'm committed to being in a relationship with her. What do you think, Calla? Ready to take one for the team?"

"And here I was hoping this would be a chance to catch up on the missed years of celebrating Thanksgiving together," Zeus, dressed in a tight white shirt and fitted black trousers with gold cufflinks, leaned against the doorway. "I'm thoroughly disappointed."

"Quit creeping around!" Eton's hand was tight around his can, his expression was foul.

"With Uncle Hektor leaving for Beirut today, is now really the time to go play with your friends, Calla?" Zeus' tone was disrespectful, caustic. Golden brown eyes met mine.

"He'll be returning in a week. If this was the last supper, I'd raised a glass to the pair of you in the hopes it'd be our last get-together." I couldn't twist my expression into a sarcastic smile; I was ticked off and not in the mood for snide comments.

"Invite her to dinner." Zeus said nonchalantly, he fixed his sleeves.

"Great idea," Eton said in delight, unaware of Zeus' budding crush on his obsession. He looked at me. "Calla?"

"So you can beat her bloody if she dares pay anyone but you attention?" I strode across the room. "It's not happening."

"That won't happen," Eton took a step in front of me, charcoal grey eyes slanted and in warning. His intense gaze never wavered, expression slack, on the verge of threatening. It was a power play. Two thunderstorms brewing. Dangerous territory.

He was inferior. Always. A second-rate twin. A lesser half who often forgot his status. My hand curled up slightly. I thought of striking him. And then my anger dissipated; like water escaping a knocked over glass. I calmed down. "It won't because she won't be here." I smiled, it was an insincere show of emotion.

His mouth moved slightly, ready to lash out and then he caught himself, his lips pressed into a thin line and he sneered, gaze aphotic and cruel. "Careful." His taunt rubbed me the wrong way, like salt on a wound. He leaned away and Zeus bulldozed his way in before I could react.

"Leave," he placed a hand on my shoulder, wary of the violent twins eager for bruised knuckles and caved in skulls.

"Gladly." I couldn't stand to be in the company of the miserable and the damned. It was asphyxiating.

**

Thanksgiving with the Huehnergards' was an arduous affair. Jamar Huehnergard, a tall, powerfully-built black man with observant brown eyes and a love for Christ, preached throughout the entire ordeal. His wife, a woman with high cheekbones and a rosy glow, hummed and encouraged him on. "Amen!" she'd parrot obediently and every so often, it was like clockwork. Frankly, I was getting sick of Jesus' praises. There was only so much Bible verses I could take. My smile became forced. As much as I loved the food, I made excuses and bid the happy family farewell. I left with six portraits of Jesus watching me. Creeps.

Talking about creeps, I caught a taxi to Frank Rider's apartment. He wore a black sweatshirt, grey sweatpants, and a pleased expression he could not hide. He met my walk halfway across the hallway to his apartment, and pressed me against the wall. "I didn't think you'd come," he leaned down to kiss me.

I ducked under his arm. "This isn't a relationship."

Undeterred by my abrupt attitude and refusal to be intimate, he followed me into the apartment, kicked the door shut and poured a glass of whiskey for me. As I reached for the glass, he held on and smiled at my irked expression like this was a playful game. I tugged, he dropped his arm, I turned, swallowed the contents and then his hand closed around forearm, he twisted me around, too close and too personal, hands in my hair and mouth on mine. It was sudden. He was needy, ardent and passionate.

I dropped the glass.

It thudded on the carpet. Frank pulled away, content. "I've made dinner." He said, heading to the kitchen area.

I dropped on the sofa. "I've already ate."

"Then why are you here?" he seemed angry, brows furrowed, turning in my direction.

"Because I want to get drunk and get fucked. That's all."

"Eat with me."

"No."

"Calla."

"This isn't a date."

He exhaled hotly, jaw tensed. "I'm not hopelessly heads over heels in love with you."

I flipped through the channels.

"Cleo," he called in irritation.

There was a heavy silence in the apartment for a stiff moment and then he returned to the living room area and tugged me to stand beside him. "No–" I tried, assuming the worst. The hard look in his eyes caused for me to fall silent. He unzipped my dress and pulled it over my shoulders. I stepped over the fallen material. His hands rested on my hips and he kissed my shoulder, mouth moving up my throat, beard brushing against my skin. His voice was low, gruff as he said, "Fine. You win. But this doesn't change anything. I can't control how I feel about you. And trying to distance yourself from me won't work, you're here with me now where you'll always be."

"I doubt it, I hate monotony, its tedious. Don't get used to this, Frank. Another man will replace you soon enough."

"I'll kill you both," he squeezed my throat with a thunderous expression, jealous and hateful. The lack of air was exhilarating. His jealousy burned out of his control. I adored being his obsession, and intended to turn it into a crazed compulsion. The dynamics had shifted. The power ball was in my court. I was overjoyed.

***