by Todd Young
There were plenty of times in the past when they’d discussed a case and she’d looked blank. She really shouldn’t be in that position. She wasn’t cut out to be a departmental supervisor. She was too … flakey. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes! Half the time they didn’t even fit her — loose skirts and blouses, badly ironed or crumpled, scarves badly knotted, and even laddered stockings on a couple of occasions. Unless she wanted to look like a slattern. Perhaps she thought that was attractive — the whole untidy woman who can’t manage, aren’t I a bit pathetic? wouldn’t you like to take care of me? thing, if it was a thing.
Susen chuckled.
As if Kristin would ever find a man. She most likely got laid fairly regularly, but what man in his right mind would want to be tied to that dipsy bitch?
She walked into the kitchen and pulled a bowl of watermelon out of the fridge. She’d sliced it rather neatly before heading off to work this morning. It’d go nicely with some ice cream. Later, a few glasses of red, and maybe some tea before bed. At ten, there was a documentary playing on Gertrude Kleiner, an early female director of the company. She was looking forward to that.
Work was a little heavy at the moment. She had the ongoing case with Xavier, and whatever he was up to. If she ever got to speak to him. He was a homebody, rarely went out, but was suspected of being involved in a deviant ring, possibly even as the leader. His case had come across Kristin’s desk more than two months ago, the information with it suggesting a ring of offenders who met in private homes, via arrangement. Kristin had passed the case on to Susen, simply saying, “Get close to him,” but that was virtually impossible. When he did go out, it was only for a few minutes.
He lived with his sister, who was a florist. She was a year or two younger than him. But they were both in their fifties. She was called Marte, and was a stylish woman, thin and elegant, with short silver hair and an expressive face. It had taken one look at her photo for Susen to understand the situation in its entirety: she was a lesbian and her brother a gay. Together they made a pair of sibling deviants, brother and sister.
Of course, she didn’t have any evidence for this, and she’d never tackled a lesbian before. It took a little research and a little thought, but a day or two after receiving the files, she had a plan to put to Kristin, which Kristin, being Kristin, lackadaisically approved.
Susen enrolled in a short flower arranging course and then applied for a position in Marte’s store. Marte didn’t particularly need an assistant, she said, when Susen presented herself, but her CV was so impressive she somehow made it work. It most likely had less to do with her references and more to do with a certain look she’d thrown the old bat before leaving. She’d been through acting class after acting class when she was training, and she knew how to give someone the impression she was interested. It wasn’t too much of a stretch for Marte to see her as a potential lover, as a baby dyke or lipstick lesbian if those really were the terms.
She was a bit out of her depth, but it was working reasonably well. Marte was pleasant to her, and she quite enjoyed their talks. Even so, she’d been there five weeks now, and was yet to meet Xavier. She’d taken a phone call from him one day, but that was it. If something didn’t happen soon, she’d have to find some other angle. She wasn’t used to regular hours, and working ten to three was becoming a bore. It was a pain, really, particularly now, seeing as she had Riley to look after as well. The reports to write on both cases. And then the meetings with Kristin, whose job she deserved, really, didn’t she? She certainly deserved something. She’d been working at this for seven years now, and was the best damn agent the division had. No one had a strike rate like hers. Not even the male agents could match her.
It was enjoyable enough, but she was tired of it. She wanted to oversee things. She wanted to have a staff of agents and be able to direct them, and then sit back in her office and watch how it all panned out. She was smart, and if she was allowed to demonstrate it she could rid the country of deviants in the next couple of decades.
The whole problem at the moment was that the program was too lenient. They were castrated, yes, but they were returned to society, which meant they could continue to offend. Couldn’t they lose their penises as well?
She burst into laughter and doubled over, a spoonful of ice cream in her hand.
“Ah, you’re a crack-up, girl,” she said, her voice echoing in the large, glossy kitchen.
[] [] []
“Well, come on.”
Theo was standing in the doorway, looking mistrustfully at the staircase, and at the street beyond it. “I haven’t been outside yet.”
“It’s a few blocks.”
“A few blocks?”
“Yeah, a ten minute walk. Come on.” Riley glanced above him, at the window of the ground floor apartment. The 3TV was still playing, but it was a movie now, gunfire and explosions and someone screaming.
Theo stepped forward and Akam, behind him, patted him on the back. Theo jumped, not expecting it, then turned and, seeing Akam, launched himself into his arms.
Hell, Riley thought. Does he hug everybody?
A moment later they were on the street. Theo turned his head, looking back at Akam’s door and then up at the house. He glanced across the street, then behind him, turned his head to look up at a block of apartments, and then trotted forward to catch up with Riley.
“Look straight ahead,” Riley muttered.
“Straight ahead?”
“Just look in the direction we’re going.”
Akam had had to tie Theo’s tie and the suit hung on him. He was carrying a bag in one hand, a black bag with a handle. It was empty, but Akam thought of it at the last moment. It would look odd if Theo arrived without a bag.
They turned onto Seventh Avenue. There were suddenly people, pedestrians ahead and on the other side of the street, and a group of hovercars sped rapidly by. Theo glanced at them warily. A cold wind was blowing and it began to snow. Riley hunkered down in his jacket and they continued on in silence. Then he glanced at Theo, who was now staring up at the sky with an upturned palm, his head thrown back.
“Theo!”
“What?”
“Put your head down. Look ahead.”
Two young women approached, walking side-by-side. They lifted their eyes and smiled shyly. Once they were past they giggled.
“I’ve never felt snow before,” Theo muttered.
“You’ve never felt snow?”
“I’ve never been outside before.”
“What? You mean ever?”
Theo shook his head.
“Hell.” He frowned. “Where were you, then?”
“We were in a building.”
“What? Always?”
“Ever since I was born.”
That raised a question, a whole wealth of questions, but Riley didn’t want to ask, not now, or …? “When were you born?”
“Last summer.”
A group of people approached, seven or eight of them, and they were separated for a moment. A man with a dark beard threaded his body between them. He passed. Then Theo glanced at Riley and grinned, as though happy he hadn’t vanished.
“When we get in, try not to talk too much.”
“Okay.”
“Creig’s a nice guy, but he likes to talk.”
Theo nodded.
They crossed over Twelfth Street. Then Riley said, “Just eat the fish, and then we’ll talk in my bedroom.”
“I don’t really want to eat fish.”
“Can you just eat it?”
“Are you going to have any?”
“No, I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it either.”
Riley nodded. If every conversation was like this, then they weren’t going to get very far, not in any hurry.
How the hell could Theo have never been outside? Did Akam know that? If he did, then it wasn’t very fair, simply thrusting him out the door. Riley should have waited, should have talked to Theo, but the
n he guessed Akam had been talking to him and explaining things. Even so, it looked like there was a long way to go. If he’d been in a building all this time, then what the hell had he been doing? And how the hell could he look like every inch as old as Riley if he’d only been born last summer? And what did born mean? Certainly not born in the sense of there being a woman involved. He hadn’t come out of a womb. But then, where had he come from? How the hell had they made him?
He turned to Theo and frowned, staring at his profile. He recognized it as his own, from photos, and from certain angles in mirrors, but as he watched an odd sensation gripped him, as though he were living in a dream. The street, the cars, the people, and everything about his life seemed suddenly hyper real, too solid and too clearly defined.
Theo turned to him and smiled, the smile blossoming in friendly camaraderie, and Riley felt like hooking an arm over his shoulder. Even so, he held himself back.
They’d be there in a few minutes.
They crossed over again. There was never much traffic. The public hovercars were so effective, they travelled so quickly and so closely together, often inches from one another. Which meant there weren’t any traffic jams or any delays. As Riley was learning from his research at work, New York was a lot quieter now than it had once been. There weren’t half so many people on the streets, and everyone seemed to be moving at a slower pace.
He lived on Fifteenth Street, in a block of apartments built in the early nineteen hundreds. There was no elevator, so they had to walk up. He lived on the third floor.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Creig said, calling out.
Riley closed the door. “You want to take that jacket off?”
“Okay.”
It was obviously too large. Theo looked a little silly in it. Riley took the jacket from him and hung it in the closet. Then Creig appeared in the doorway to the living room.
“Oh! Hey! Ah, you’re twins! Wow!” He had a dishcloth in one hand, but slung it over his shoulder. He was a little taller than Riley, and a little broader as well. He had light brown hair and his face was a little goofy, though he was attractive enough all the same.
“Creig, this is Theo.”
Creig strode forward and held out his hand.
Theo didn’t move.
“Well, shake his hand,” Riley said, pushing Theo in the back. “Sorry, he’s a little tired. He had a bad flight.”
They shook, though it was obviously a new experience for Theo. As Creig stepped backward he stared at his hand, and then looked to Riley uncertainly. Riley slung his arm over Theo’s shoulder.
Creig’s eyes were flitting between them, scanning Riley’s face and then Theo’s. He leaned back a little, looked them up and down, and then raised his eyebrows. One of his goofy smiles formed, and he said, “Well, Riles, looks like you lucked out in the looks department.”
“What?”
“Looks like Theo got the good genes.”
“We look the same.”
“Nyeah. Almost. But not quite. I’ve seen this before. One twin getting an edge over the other — and it ain’t you, bud.”
Riley grunted, a low, involuntary sound. He turned to Theo and frowned.
They looked the same, didn’t they?
He turned away and lifted his eyes beyond the short hall to his bedroom door. The apartment was one large square, the front door in a corner, the living space, with separate kitchen, diagonally ahead, a bedroom in each of the other corners. When Akam first mentioned Theo staying, Riley had thought of the couch, and imagined him sleeping on that. It occurred to him now that that wouldn’t be possible. It would mean leaving Theo with Creig at night and in the mornings if he happened to be up. They’d fall into conversation, and apparently Theo didn’t even know how to shake someone’s hand. Who knew what he would say?
“Is he bunking in with you?”
“Er, yeah,” Riley said. “We’ll take this bag through, Theo?”
He led Theo past Creig and into his room, and then glanced at the bed. He had a king size, a green and ivory comforter tucked neatly over it. He hadn’t imagined sharing a bed with Theo, but he guessed he’d have to. He frowned.
“Is this your room?”
“Yeah.”
Theo stepped forward uncertainly and walked toward the window. It looked out onto a narrow chasm, a window in the building a few feet away not quite aligning with his. The girl who lived there had her curtains drawn, but her light was on. Theo put his hands on the sill, looked up and then looked down. He turned, looked at the bed, and then at Riley.
“Do I have to sleep on the floor?”
“No, of course not. Why would you sleep on the floor?”
“I was sleeping on the floor at Akam’s.”
Oh, right. Well, perhaps he could … or, no?
Theo walked toward the bed and tested it, leaning forward and bouncing the mattress with stiff arms. “How come it’s so big?”
Riley shrugged. He’d always had a big bed, even when he was a child. He was used to it, he guessed, and when he moved in here he’d naturally bought one, the biggest he could find. He turned away from Theo and put the bag in the closet. When he turned back, Theo was lying on the bed with his feet on the floor. He had his arms spread wide.
“You’re going to have to eat this fish.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to get up?”
“My back’s sore.”
“So, you don’t want to sleep on the floor?”
“You said I could sleep in the bed.”
Had he said that? Had he actually said that?
“My bed at the barracks is like a shelf.”
“The barracks?”
“Where I lived.”
Riley frowned. Theo’s thighs were splayed a little, curving over the edge of the bed, Akam’s pale grey trousers loose on him. He’d closed his eyes now, and his brow was smooth. Riley took a step forward. He could see Theo’s genitals, a soft, vulnerable package, sitting beneath the fly of the trousers.
“This is ready,” Creig called.
7
“So, what’s Seattle like?”
“It’s good — great. A lot of rain, though.”
“Yeah?”
“It rains all the time.”
“Do you live in town?”
“Yeah, with a friend.”
Creig nodded. He took a mouthful of fish, chewed on it, but before he’d managed to swallow, was questioning Theo again. “And your mom — she just, like, took you, and left Riley here?”
Theo nodded.
“That’s pretty odd. But then again, I suppose they got a fair deal, your parents. They had a pair of something, and they took one each.” He swallowed, and then turned to Riley. “Of course your mom got the good looking one, so it wasn’t entirely fair.”
“I doubt you could tell us apart if we were wearing the same clothes.”
Creig had convinced Riley to eat some of the pasta, which was in its own sauce, separate from the fish.
“Mmm. I don’t know. I think I’ve got it sorted already. He looks sulkier, and he stands straighter, with his chest puffed out.”
Riley twirled some pasta onto his fork. “Sulkier?”
“Well, you’re both pouting all the freaking time — and glaring at people with those eyes.” He puffed his lips out and narrowed his eyes, turning from Theo to Riley and peering at them, and turning back and back again.
Theo laughed, and then covered his mouth, a piece of fish threatening to escape. His eyes were sparkling, his dark pupils reflecting the light hanging over the table.
“And I gotta say, Theo,” Creig went on, straightening up and turning serious. “You’re a little intense.” He turned his head down and began to eat again.
Theo’s face fell mid-chew, then he went on chewing slowly, staring at Creig.
“Don’t worry about it, Thee.” Riley winced inwardly at the name. “He’s like this with every
one.”
Theo stopped for a moment, taking this in, and then began chewing once more and nodded, happy all over again.
An unexpected joyfulness blossomed in Riley’s chest. He watched Theo carefully for a moment, and then took a sip of wine. He really was nice. That was the incredible thing. If Riley did have a brother, then he wouldn’t mind it being Theo.
He’d made a bad gaff when they first sat down, though. Creig had asked him if he wanted wine, and Theo had said, “What is it?” It was quite obvious to Riley that he didn’t even know what wine was, but Creig had simply turned the bottle over. “Pinot Grigio. 2072,” he said, then lifted his eyebrows. Aside from that, it had been okay, but Riley was watching closely all the same. They really had to get this meal over as quickly as possible, and get into the bedroom.
Theo finished, sat back and lifted his wine to his lips. It was his second glass, but he tossed it back as though it was soda. He winced, licked his lips, and said, “Is there any more?”
Creig guffawed.
Riley put his fork down. “Come on, Thee. You know what you’re like.”
“What am I like?”
“You don’t travel well with wine.”
“Don’t I?”
Riley shook his head, slowly and deliberately from side to side.
Creig looked up. “Is he like you?”
Riley knew what he meant. They’d been drunk together a couple of times, and Riley tended to get silly, and even a little amorous, which had caused a problem. “Yeah, a bit.” He laid his napkin on the table.
Creig turned to Theo. “Have you tried to rape your roommate too?”
“I touched your wrist, Creig.”
“Okay, okay, I’m only joking.” Creig’s voice was loud now.
Theo coughed, and then vomited, spewing fish and wine and pasta onto the center of the table.
