by Rob Watson
“Let’s see you get yourself out of that, Alex,” she said while skipping toward the kitchen.
***
Amanda slammed the knife down on the cutting board in bitter defeat. “Dammit!”
“I thought proper Christians weren’t supposed to swear,” Lexa taunted, stepping into the kitchen and setting her carry-on bag on the kitchen table. The scent of her perfume filled the room as she sauntered over to the island. Lexa winked at her aunt, picked up the knife, and began sawing across the goose’s neck.
Amanda had a dozen things she wished to say to her niece this morning, but the only thing she could force out of her mouth was, “Nervous?”
“Not nervous, just a little sad,” Lexa said.
Amanda put her hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “You’re going to be fine without Alex, you’ll see.”
“Yeah…” Lexa said doubtfully. She stopped cutting on the goose and put the knife down on the island.
“Dr. Cross said it will be good for the both of you to spend some time away from each other,” Amanda reminded her, trying to convince herself as well as her niece.
“Isn’t it enough that we go to separate colleges? Why do we have to spend Thanksgiving away from each other too?” Lexa wrapped her arms around herself and stared down at the knife. “We’ve never spent a holiday apart.”
Amanda picked up the knife and handed it to Lexa. “Well maybe it’s about time you cut the cord and try life without Alex for a while.”
Lexa cracked half a grin and approached the cutting board.
“Besides, you’ll have the rest of your friends to keep you company this weekend. What is it that you call yourselves again?”
“The Mag Seven, short for the Magnificent Seven,” Lexa said. She resumed cutting the goose.
***
Alex Rhodes, Lexa’s twin brother, entered the living room and walked eagerly over to the chess table.
Let’s see what she’s left for me this time.
He examined the chessboard and smiled a “Cheshire Cat” smile.
I see you’re starting to come around to my way of thinking.
***
Amanda glanced at her watch and sighed. “Where’s your uncle?” she asked.
“He’s in the garage loading the luggage,” Lexa responded.
Seconds later, Alex stealthily entered the kitchen and snuck up behind his unsuspecting sister. He moved his mouth up next to her ear and whispered, “You mean Alex was loading the luggage while your uncle was complaining about his fucking back, as usual.”
Lexa gave her brother a sisterly air of disapproval. “Really, Alex?” she whispered, “That was so uncalled for.”
“But accurate,” Alex whispered back.
“Oh, I hope we didn’t forget anything,” said Amanda, checking her checklist on the kitchen chalkboard.
Alex leaned forward, winked at Lexa, and headed toward the kitchen table. “You’re all set, except for this.” He picked up his sister’s carry-on bag and tried to spin it on his finger like a basketball.
“Do you have your headache pills?” Amanda asked, her worry evident despite her attempt to conceal it.
Lexa patted the purse hanging over her shoulder. “Right here.”
“What about your uncle’s sea-sick pills? Do you have those?”
Lexa grinned. “You mean the ones you haven’t given me yet?”
Alex grinned and shook his head.
Amanda chuckled. “I’ll get them.” She brushed by Alex and exited the kitchen.
Alex danced up to Lexa and bowed. “Bishop to queen four, huh? I’ll find a way out of your trap by the time you get back,” he said with a smug grin.
Lexa gave her brother a condescending pat on his arm. “I doubt it.”
Alex turned his smile into an exaggerated frown.
“Awww…” She hugged her sulking brother and went back to sawing on the goose.
“I don’t suppose you could fit me into one of your suitcases?” asked Alex.
Lexa hesitated for a split second. “You’re going to be fine without me, you’ll see.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Lexa cut harder on the goose’s neck, but still wasn’t even halfway through.
“Can I at least ride with you to the landing?” Alex asked. The despair in his voice caused Lexa’s eyes to water.
“Sure.” Lexa squeezed her eyelids to fight back her tears.
After a few moments of awkward silence passed, Claude Rhodes, a tall, handsome man in his late fifties, opened the door to the kitchen’s garage entrance and stuck in his head. “Come on or you’ll miss your boat,” he urged.
“Coming, Uncle Claude,” Lexa said.
After Claude ducked back out of the kitchen, Alex took the knife from Lexa’s hand and without a second thought chopped off the goose’s head with one swift blow. “Never start what you can’t finish.” He laid down the knife and headed for the garage.
Lexa picked up her carry-on and followed after her brother.
CHAPTER THREE
NEVER SAY GOODBYE
Claude drove his car past several curbside check-in attendants and parked in the loading zone of the Catalina Landing, got out of the car, and opened the trunk.
Lexa peered out her window and saw her friends waiting on the sidewalk.
Paige Turner, a gorgeous blonde with green eyes and a curvaceous figure, walked up and opened Lexa’s door. “I see you still like to make an entrance,” Paige said in a voice so smooth and sultry that even the Pope would blush upon hearing it. “C’mon, we don’t want to miss the boat, do we?”
Lexa hopped out of the car, with Alex following closely behind.
As Lexa and Alex were led away by Paige, Bastian Shadwell, a short blond with an athletic build and supporting actor looks, went over to help Claude unload the luggage.
“Let me help you with that, Mr. Rhodes,” Bastian said in a tone so obsequious he had to strain to keep a straight face.
Claude was genuinely moved, completely missing the young man’s jocular cue. “Why thank you, Sebastian.”
“No problem.” Bastian picked up the smallest piece of luggage and set it next to the curb. His folded arms and shit-eating grin more than made clear that his assistance had ended.
Claude shook his head and unloaded the rest of the luggage while mumbling to himself.
A bus pulled to a stop and opened its doors. Cassie Lovette, a short brunette with a dark complexion, stood in the doorway holding onto the arm of Christopher Kane, aka CK, a tall, dark-haired, handsome man in his early twenties. Cassie moved her white cane left and right as they exited the bus and approached Lexa and Paige.
“I thought Kimber was coming with you,” CK said to Lexa.
“Yeah, I know,” Lexa said. “Kimmy was supposed to call if she needed a ride, but she—” The chime of Lexa’s smartphone interrupted her. She took it out of her purse and read its screen.
KIMBERLY: Hey Lexa. I can’t make the trip with you guys but no worries. I promise I’ll show up for dinner tonight.
“Kimmy’s not coming till later,” said Lexa, putting the phone back into her purse.
“Seriously?” Paige said with an air of selfish contempt.
“Is she okay?” asked Cassie.
“She won’t be if she doesn’t show,” Paige snapped.
“No worries. She promised she’d make it for dinner” Lexa said. Little did she know, however, that the doubtful expression on her face was in direct conflict with the confidence in her voice, though she had no reason to anticipate her roommate’s absence.
“She better. Storm’s expecting all of us,” CK said.
“She’ll turn up,” Lexa assured. “She will, I promise.”
While Claude and Bastian attempted to get the attention of an attendant, Palmer Randolph, a well-groomed, attractive man in his early twenties, stepped out of a stretch limousine. He walked to the rear of the limo and held up a fifty-dollar bill.
Several attendants rushed to the limo an
d started checking his luggage. Bastian rolled his eyes when Palmer took out another fifty and motioned toward the Rhodes’ car. Two attendants rushed over and unloaded Lexa’s bags.
“Spoiled little shit,” Bastian muttered under his breath.
While the attendants carried the luggage into the landing, Claude walked up to his niece and gave her a hug. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” Before Lexa could reply, he went on, “Maybe you shouldn’t…”
Lexa put her finger up to Claude’s mouth and shushed him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Lexa told her uncle. The expression on her face concealed the doubt in her head as to the validity of the words she spoke.
“Of course you will,” Claude said with an almost prayer-like inflection. “Bye, sweetheart. Be safe, and be well.”
Lexa glanced over at her somber-looking brother standing off to the side all by himself. A twinge of pain erupted in her brain. “I will,” she said. She kissed her uncle on his cheek and glanced over to the rest of the Mag Seven huddling together waiting for her to join them.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” she said in an attempt to reassure her worried uncle.
CK ran up to Claude and asked, “Would you take our picture, Mr. Rhodes?”
Claude honed his gaze on Lexa for a few seconds, after which he turned toward CK and solemnly answered, “Sure.”
“Great!” CK handed Claude his phone. “Just press this button when you’re ready to take the picture.”
“Got it,” Claude said, and CK hurried back to the others.
“C’mon, squeeze together now,” Claude said, fiddling with CK’s phone.
Palmer leaned against Paige and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.
Paige forced an inch or two distance between her rear and Palmer’s front. She exchanged her smirk for a sultry pout. “My, my, Palmer, I just felt how excited you are. And to think I felt you didn’t even want to come.”
Palmer pressed up against Paige’s rear again. “I didn’t, but I always rise to the occasion for my friends.”
Paige broke away from Palmer’s grasp and turned to face him. “You need to keep it in your pants, lover boy. You don’t have enough assets to acquire these goods.”
“Maybe, but I know who does,” Palmer said, matter-of-factly winning the verbal joust.
CK stood behind Cassie and helped her face the camera. “Just look that way,” he instructed. After a second or two, he caught his faux pas and blurted out, “Sorry, Cass, I meant…”
Cassie patted CK’s hand. “I know what you meant,” she said. “I’m just glad to be facing the camera for once.”
Bastian moved over and stood next to Lexa, who finally turned away from her brother. “I don’t like boats,” he whispered. His pent-up anxiety made his voice crack. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve never liked boats.”
“That’s okay,” Lexa said. “We all have skeletons left over from childhood.” She turned toward Alex and motioned for her brother to come stand next to her but he shook his head and remained where he was. Voices in the young woman’s head accused her of abandoning her twin on a holiday. They’d never spent one apart.
“Okay…” said Claude, holding up the camera phone.
Lexa tried to ignore the voices and plastered on a “happy face.”
CK snuck a quick peek at Lexa, one that seemed to last for an eternity, for within that moment, years of unrequited love for this young woman erupted from his heart and splashed before his eyes.
“Smile!” Claude took several pictures and then handed the phone back to CK.
Lexa ran over and hugged her uncle again before rejoining the others.
“You guys watch out for each other!” Claude called after them.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” CK assured him.
Claude waved and headed for his car. Alex inched his way close to Lexa and stood at her side. The sadness behind his eyes was too much for him to suppress.
Tears streamed down Lexa’s face as her eyes took in her twin brother’s pain. She paused for a brief time to compose herself. Afterwards she turned toward her waiting friends and said, “You guys go on inside. I’ll catch up to you in a minute.”
“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” CK said, and he and the others headed into the landing.
Lexa took hold of Alex’s hands. “Always?” She placed his right hand over her heart, the first part of a ritual they’d been doing since they were kids.
“Always,” Alex repeated. “Forever?” Alex brought up Lexa’s right hand and placed it over his heart.
“Forever,” finished Lexa. When she started to move her hand, Alex took it and pressed it firmly back over his heart.
“Forever isn’t long enough,” Alex said with grave intensity. They shared a moment of closeness that only twins could understand. A closeness that could only be reached by sharing the same womb. Alex’s hand wrapped around the locket resting against Lexa’s heart. He held it up and gave it a kiss before putting it back down against his sister’s chest.
Lexa embraced Alex and gazed into his eyes, which were red and brimming with tears. As she prepared to say goodbye, her brother shushed her.
“Never say goodbye,” he said. “Say ‘later’ instead. Goodbyes are for people you’ll never see again.”
“Okay. Later, X-Man.”
“Later, Sis.”
After a painful moment, Lexa turned and headed toward the landing.
Love. Why can something that brings so much joy also cause so much pain?
The further away she got from her twin, the stronger the pain grew inside of her head. Lexa stopped halfway, took a large prescription medicine bottle out of her purse, opened the bottle, and took a dose. After taking a calming exhale, she shoved the bottle back into her purse and hurried up the stairs. All the while, Alex stood watching until Lexa disappeared into the landing.
CHAPTER FOUR
PASSAGE
Lexa hurried through the landing and caught up with the others waiting by the boarding gate.
CK took a step toward her and raised his brow. “You ready for this?” he asked with the zeal of a second grader about to go on a field trip.
“Um, yeah,” Lexa said. Yeah, sure I am. “Can’t wait to get there.”
“I thought you might have had a change of mind,” Paige taunted.
Lexa shot her friend a puzzled look. “Huh? About what?”
“About coming this weekend.”
“Oh no. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Paige gave her friend a nudge and motioned to the boarding agent standing patiently in front of them.
The boarding agent took their VIP tickets before leading the group toward the Catalina Express, an elegant vessel flaunting polished white fiberglass and dark privacy windows.
“Is it big?” Cassie asked with meek enthusiasm.
“Yeah, it’s about a hundred footer,” CK answered.
“One hundred and two feet to be exact,” the boarding agent chimed in. “It happens to be the newest addition to our fleet. As a matter of fact—”
Palmer stuffed a twenty-dollar bill into the agent’s pocket, cutting him off. “Thanks for the stats, chief. That was most interesting.”
When they reached the gangplank, a steward greeted the party. “Welcome aboard! I am Roger, one of your personal stewards for the day. Senator Storm himself has asked the captain to make your trip with us one to remember.” He politely ushered them aboard.
The passenger decks were teeming with tourists, making them standing room only. Screaming children and chattering parents drowned out the sound of the waves crashing against the ship’s hull. A portly couple battling a bout of seasickness scrambled past on their way to the restrooms.
“Pretty nice,” Bastian remarked.
“Nice?” Palmer snickered. “It’s a floating metro line.”
Paige shot daggers at her pretentious friend.
Palmer glanced around at the gaggle of boisterous passengers and sai
d, “You’d think the good senator would have the graft to charter us a private yacht.”
“Give Spence a chance,” Paige said, rushing to the senator’s defense. “I mean, he just got elected.”
“Spence?” Bastian said, his tone dripping with spite. He moved closer to his friend and muttered, “Don’t worry, Palmer, Spence is getting plenty of graft these days—and nights.”
The steward nervously cleared his throat after that last remark and opened the door to the captain’s lounge, a spacious entertaining area with large bay windows, leather couches and chairs, and fine cherry hardwood tables. The lounge was adorned with brightly colored balloons and a huge banner that read: ‘KUDOS MAG SEVEN.’ Upon the bar sat several silver champagne buckets, and the tables were loaded with party trays filled with caviar and cheeses, meats, breads, and condiments for sandwiches.
“Now this is more like it,” said Palmer. He tipped the steward a couple of twenties. “I gotta hand it to him. Storm is a man of his word.” Palmer opened his custom leather pack and took out a very old and very expensive bottle of Dom Perignon champagne…
***
On election night, Spencer Storm’s campaign headquarters buzzed with uncontrollable excitement. Throngs of campaign workers and their families and friends scampered about the large office space. Workstations and tables stacked with office equipment were half hidden by the streamers and confetti covering them. Three one hundred inch high definition televisions equidistantly positioned around the room displayed the evening’s latest returns, which showed Storm winning by a seventy percent margin.
Amidst all of this chaos, the newly elected senator’s family sat quietly on one of the sofas in the middle of the room.
“Mommy, does that mean Daddy won?” asked Mariah Storm, Spencer’s four-year-old daughter.
“Yes it does, my darling,” replied the six-month pregnant Melissa Storm. She looked down at her daughter, and then at her one-year-old son Dylan asleep in her arms. “Yes, it does!” Around Mrs. Storm’s sofa stood Lexa, Kimberly, Palmer, Bastian, Cassie, and CK—six out of the seven members of her husband’s inner circle.
