Fade To Midnight. Shannon McKenna
Christ, his thigh hurt. And his ribs. His arm. Everything.
His reflection in the glass window in the door caught his eye. So thin, haggard, cheekbones jutting, cheeks hollowed. He stared at himself, seeking recognition in the face he saw. But it eluded him.
All he had now was what he’d made of himself since Tony found the bashed up wreck of his body eighteen years ago. That ought to be enough, but it wasn’t anymore. Not since the waterfall. Memories were stirring, and his hunger to know more itched and burned, prodding him along with nasty, anxious urgency. Almost as if something terrible might happen if he did not succeed in remembering.
He parked by the unlovely brick warehouse building on NW Lenox that housed his loft apartment, an alley in the less swank, not-quite-gentrified-yet northern outskirts of the Pearl District. His hand shook with gratitude as he stuck the key into the lock…until he smelled Bruno’s aftershave. Shit. He himself had taught Bruno to pick locks, back when Bruno was a delinquent teenager. Now, Bruno was a delinquent thirty-year-old, with skills more suitable for a career criminal. His own fault. He shouldn’t have taught the kid to pick locks.
Bruno lay in wait, lounging on a stool and drinking coffee like he owned the place. The smell of frying bacon assaulted Kev’s olfactory nerve like a wrecking ball when he stepped in the door. So did the perfumed cream that fop had smeared over himself after he’d shaved. The stink was enough to knock a brain damaged guy right on his ass.
Kev switched off the overhead, and pressed a switch that brought the shades over the high skylights. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to see you eat breakfast,” Bruno said.
Kev slowly took off the sunglasses. “Breakfast,” he echoed, in hollow tones. “Uh-uh.” He sank into a chair, rubbing the thigh that had gotten snapped in two places in the waterfall plunge.
“Played cards tonight?” Bruno asked.
His brother’s tone put him on the defensive. “And? So?”
“Win anything?”
“Some,” Kev admitted, reluctantly.
“How much?”
Kev rubbed his eyes. “Don’t remember,” he said. “Dumped it on the way home. I don’t need it. That’s not why I play. You know that.”
“Yeah, I know that. Mr. Pure doesn’t need money. He floats above the grotty obsessions of us normal folk. That’s exactly the elitist, improvident thinking that’s always driven me nuts about you.”
Kev rubbed his aching head, feeling the thick ropy scars on his scalp. “I told you. It’s not about the money. I do it for—”
“Yeah, you explained. I get it, insofar as a mere mortal could. You only cop a buzz when your brain is maxed to the limit counting cards. I’m not sure yet if that’s technically cheating or not, but it definitely classifies you as a fucking weirdo. Not that this is any surprise to me.”
Kev snorted. “Quit it with the ‘mere mortals’ bullshit, Bruno. I’m brain damaged, OK? I do the best I can with what I’ve got to work with.”
“That’s negative thinking, dude,” Bruno said in a lecturing tone. “If you want to get your life back on track, you’ve got to—”
“I am trying!” The force of the words drove a hot nail of pain through his head. He held his fragile eggshell skull together with his hands until he dared to breathe again. “Or trying to get a life, period,” he amended. “I’ve never been on anything resembling a track.”
“What’s wrong with your life?” Bruno demanded. “It was fine! So get back to it! You haven’t worked since the waterfall, and you’ve been capable for months now!”
“You’ve got plenty of designs to develop,” Kev pointed out. “When you run out, I’ll come up with more for you. Whenever you need it.”
“I’m not talking about what I need!”
Kev’s lips twitched. “So this is to keep me busy? You think my mathematical masturbation will make me go blind?”
Bruno made an impatient gesture. “It’s a waste. You need to get out, get some sun, get laid. You made us a fortune with Lost Boys. Are you going to just throw it all away to—”
“You made the fortune,” Kev said, with quiet emphasis. “Go make the piles of money without me. I’ll be OK.”
Bruno looked frustrated. “But what the fuck? You’re just sitting here in the dark, staring at your computer, obsessing about your past. Let it go! Start from where you are! Your life couldn’t have been that good, considering how fucked-up you were when Tony found you!”
Kev couldn’t deny it, but he couldn’t agree, either. “I need to know where I came from,” he said.
“Why?” Bruno yelled. “What would it help? What’ll it prove?”
Bruno was right. There was no reason to think knowing his past would make the quality of his life better. And there were many reasons to think that it might make it worse. But curiosity was driving him bonkers. He’d always wanted to know where he came from, but since the waterfall, that want was fueled by raw emotion, like burning rocket fuel. If the truth should prove to suck ass, he still had to know it.
But Bruno was on a roll. “What’s wrong with the life you’ve got? You’ve got plenty of money, or would if you’d stop throwing it at the widows and the orphans. You’ve got me and Tony and Rosa for family. What are we, chopped liver? Too lowbrow for you?”
“Don’t be stupid. It has nothing to do with you, Rosa, and Tony.”
“We’re just not enough,” Bruno raged on. “You’re fixated on that hole inside your head, instead of the life you’ve built. Ever thought that what’s in that hole might be a big disappointment to you? You were in shit-poor shape when Tony got you. Whoever your people were, they didn’t stand by you! They left you to die! Fuck them!”
Kev gazed at the younger man. “I won’t blow you off. Even if I find my former family. You’ll always be my brother. No matter what.”
Bruno looked embarrassed. “It’s not about that.”
Kev just looked at him.
“Oh, shut up,” Bruno snarled. “Just shut the fuck up.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Kev said.
“You didn’t have to. It was the look on your face. Come on. Eat this.” He slapped a plate with a fried egg on a roll, bacon draped over it.
Kev swallowed back the clutch of nausea. No way to let Bruno down gently. He shook his head. “I’ll take coffee,” he offered.
Bruno muttered something foul in Calabrese, and spun the loaded plate in the direction of the sink like a Frisbee. The crash of breaking crockery made Kev jerk, covering his ears. Jesus. That hurt.
He took off his coat and poured coffee, ignoring the anger radiating from the broad back of his adopted brother. He tried not to limp as he crossed the room. Any show of weakness set Bruno off.
He sat at his worktable and turned the computer on.
“Don’t jerk off with that while I’m talking to you,” Bruno growled.
“I’m not jerking off,” Kev said mildly. “And if you do, I’ll talk back.”
“With only half your brain? That irritates the shit out of me.”
Kev clicked his browser. “Half a brain’s all I’ve ever had.”
“Hah. You could solve complicated higher math problems while simultaneously operating a nuclear missile launcher, analyzing weather patterns, and shaving a poodle. But normal folk call that bad manners.”
Kev tried not to smile. “That’s funny,