The Search for Juno

Chapter IV

"A casino?" said Alex, likely setting the record for the most dismal way anyone had ever said that word, ever.

    His twin brother, Conny, picked a few flecks of dirt from under his nails and sighed, craning his head back to get a full view of the technicolor mass in front of him, which bled EDM music out into the night air. "Not just any casino," Conny said, casting a brief glance down the street, humming with drunk and nearly-drunk voices, bodies pressed to bodies. The very air smelled of burnt rubber and alcohol. "The most iconic one on the Strip."

    Alex groaned. "And Dolinski gave us this job because..."

    "He fucking hates us," Conny said, raising an eyebrow at Alex. "Oh, were you unaware? Any time he gets a particularly messy job, who does he give it to? Not June, she's too precious. Not Foxtail. Not even Antoni. It's just us. Oh, I need someone to make a run all the way across the country? Call the Morganthaus. Or—dammit, I need a mole eliminated but the only place we for sure know he'll be is in one of the most densely-populated sections of Vegas? Call the Morganthaus!"

    Alex was smiling at him now, a gentle lift of this thin-lipped mouth that Conny knew on sight was more ridiculing than genuine."How bitter you are, Conny," he said, tugging on Conny's ear. "Just like espresso. Size and all."

    Conny swatted his hand away, tapping the gun underneath his trench coat—cashmere, imported from France, his most prized possession—as if Alex himself was not armed. "I could shoot you dead right here, Alex."

    Alex rolled his eyes, giving a flippant gesture and starting towards the casino's glitzy revolving doors. "If you wanted to kill me, you would have absorbed me in Mom's womb twenty years ago."

    Conny watched his brother go for a moment, admittedly envious of Alex's long, graceful gait, his polished leather shoes shimmering beneath the neon. Jogging to catch up with him, Conny said, "Perhaps I tried."

    Alex flashed another smile, key-shaped earring trembling as he turned his head. As far as Conny or anyone knew, that key did not unlock anything. It was just Alex's silent way of saying, I am prettier and more mysterious than you. "So you've just been set up for a life full of shortcomings, I see."

    "If that's another joke about my height—"

    "It wasn't," said Alex. "But it is now."

    Just two things kept Conny from sucker-punching Alex in the nose at that moment: one, the knowledge that Dolinski would pull all of his teeth out one by one if they were to fail this assignment, and two, the idea that sucker-punches were cowardly. He would get him back later, sometime when he wasn't expecting it. Salt in his coffee, maybe. Or perhaps he'd order someone to buy up all the Cocoa Krispies from the nearest grocery store. Alex would crumble without that stupid cereal.

    Alex passed through the casino's entrance with ease, but the security guard held up a hand, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the other twin. Grumbling, Conny excavated his fake ID (which he hardly thought counted as fake, anyway, as it was only aged up by a few months) and flashed it to the guard. "Best of luck to you, sir," said the security guard, as if he hadn't just massively deducted from Conny's dignity.

    Alex was always easy to find among the crowds, whether it be thanks to his height, or the rather eccentric shade of silver he'd dyed his hair. Conny remembered telling him it was a very bad idea to do that. Conny remembered telling his brother many times that it was a bad idea to do something, and Alex doing it anyway. Like the hoop in his nose. Or the industrial bar in his ear. Really, Conny thought, a good seventy-five percent of his brother's motivation was probably spite.