Vivid Lies

by Alyne Robers

  "This is where she works?" I ask when we stop, looking around at the littered parking lot, overflowing dumpster and broken window next door. Our Jeep is sitting untouched in the back of the lot.

  "What did you expect?"

  "Something . . . nicer."

  "It's not the worst place she could work," Kane says as he gets out of the car. I meet him around the car to grab my bags from him.

  "So, why are you in here as much as you are?" I ask him because it's been on my mind since Brooklyn told me about him.

  "Working, usually. I end up wherever my subjects take me."

  "I see. Thank you for the ride, Kane," I say as I walk toward our Jeep. "I'll send cash for the gas."

  I unlock the car and throw my bags in back. I'm pretty sure I missed the boats launching but I can get some shots in still.

  "Hey, London," Kane shouts right before I get in.

  "How can I tell you two apart?"

  "You can't."

  "Your boyfriend can."

  "Miles? Not a boyfriend, and we grew up with him. I'm pretty sure he guesses most of the time based on clothing or personality."

  I grin and wave as I start the car. The air conditioning died as soon as we moved to Florida, so I roll down the windows and follow Kane out of the parking lot. The neighboring businesses look as rundown as the club, and I hate that my sister is here late at night.

  Brooklyn swears she's safe and nothing will happen to her, but she thinks she's invincible. Always has. I'm the one who reminds her that we are human. Our bones can break. Our skin can bleed. Not that she always listens.

  EIGHT

  Brooklyn

  The view outside our apartment sucks. I'm not the one looking for landscapes or the beauty in the world. That's London. But I know when I look out my window, and see the overpass and nothing but cement, that it's not pretty.

  Back home, my bedroom window looked out over our backyard. Miles's yard was viewable, with the swings and treehouse. The grass gave in to the trees in the back. All I saw was green.

  Now I see filth. Cars rushing to get somewhere, only to rush to get away. I lean over the railing of the fire escape with a coffee cup in one hand and a cigarette between my lips. I'm up before most of the world, so I take advantage of the rare occasion. I watch as the highway turns from lonely to overcrowded. The silence breaks with the sounds of neighbors and the traffic.

  It's depressing.

  "I thought you quit," I hear behind me.

  Miles is leaning out our window, ruining my moment of solitude.

  "I don't like to be a quitter," I mutter as I drop the cigarette butt to the alley below me.

  I turn and hand my coffee to Miles and he backs away, letting me crawl back through the window. He takes my hand and helps me get through without face-planting. My fingers warm where our hands touch. His eyes find mine and I soften under his look.

  Miles has always had that effect on me. Around him, I didn't have to be the hard ass or the stronger one. I didn't need to balance out the extremes of my twin sister. Miles was the only person who could see the layers that made up what was between us. With him, we were free.

  "London is already somewhere," I tell him.

  "That's fine."

  I give him a questioning look. "Hungry?" I ask him, because he always is. The poor guy probably can't cook to save his own life.

  "Starving."

  Lucky for Miles, my sister and I have been fending for ourselves most of our lives. Dad didn't come home early enough to make dinner, and if he did, it was hot dogs or cereal. Even hot dogs he managed to burn or ruin. What recipes we do know, Miles's mom taught us.

  I grab my coffee from him and head to the kitchen. Our fridge is bare but I have enough to throw together spaghetti. The breakfast of champions. I make note to go grocery shopping later with my tips from dancing this week. With the stage show, I made more than enough to fill the fridge. Maybe even a cheap bottle of wine.

  Miles watches me closely while I move around the tiny kitchen. I'm aware that I'm not wearing a bra and my shirt is thin enough I'm sure he can see my nipples. He doesn't comment or let me catch him staring though. Never does.

  "Who was the dude in the hallway the other day?" he finally asks as I drain the noodles.

  "What dude?"

  "He said he knew you from the club. Lives on this floor. He gave me shit for being outside your door the morning after that bad storm."

  "Must have been Kane."

  I hand Miles a plate and we go to the couch to eat. I pull my legs up underneath me and flip on the TV. We only have basic cable so I settle on the morning news.

  "I don't like him. I think you should stay away from him."

  I look over at him to see his serious stare burning into me. My skin prickles with the intensity. Miles is protective of us both, especially since we moved to Florida, but he's never flat out inserted himself in our business.

  "Pardon me? I don't think I caught that. I swear you just told me what to do," I grit out.

  Miles sighs and sets his empty plate on the coffee table. I see he's uncomfortable in the way he's running his hands through his hair and avoiding looking at me.

  "I don't think he's good for you. Either of you."

  "What the fuck does London have to do with this? You don't know anything about him, Miles, so don't be a douche."

  Kane isn't the worst guy I've brought around. While London went on few dates with the smart kids in school, I slept with older men. Guys with criminal records and more issues than Playboy. Every man I was involved with wasn't good for me. This isn't new.

  Miles stares at me for a long time, seemingly debating what to say. He knows better than to tell me what to do. Like any good rebel would, I tend to do the exact opposite. I see the regret on his face and I almost feel bad for making him put up with me. With both of us.

  He's been our best friend through every girly spat, teenage meltdown, and every bad day. Who knows how many tears he wiped, boys he beat up, or nights he worried over one or both of us? I used to wish we were his little sisters, bound by blood. He would tell me being bound by choice was stronger than blood. He said he loved us because he wanted to, not because he had to.

  He's a good guy. Taking pity on him, I retract my claws. I won't do a damn thing I don't want to do, but I can set his worried little head at ease.

  "I will take your suggestion under consideration," I say with a smile hoping to break the tension.

  His grin is my reward and my heart pumps at the sight. For some reason, pleasing him has always been an accomplishment for me. Not for London, because she was naturally everything she should be. It took some effort on my part to make Miles smile like that.

  I loved it. I craved it some days.

  We relax into the couch and watch the news. I haven't lived here long enough to feel like a local yet. It's always a little weird watching the news and seeing areas you don't know or haven't heard of. Besides Stephanie's and the apartment, I haven't explored that much. This place still feels temporary even though it's supposed to be home.

  I look over at the guy responsible for getting us out just before it was too late. It's funny to think of running away when you're twenty-four, but that's what it feels like. Under the cover of night, we simply drove away. We owe that all to him. He saved us.

  We didn't say goodbye or tell anyone where we went. We just ran and left my father behind with all his demons.

  Sometimes when I hear London screaming in her sleep, I wonder just how many demons followed us anyway.

  I stretch my bare legs over Miles's lap and sink into the soft couch, feeling the consequences for waking up early. His large hands cover my feet and softly rub my sore soles. I've had the stage for three nights in row. The money is worth it, but my body is finally backlashing. I let out a soft moan when he thumbs push deep into my heel.

  Our eyes connect and I watch as his darken.

  "You kissed her," I blurt. The moment is too heavy. I don't do heavy w
ell. I like mindless and shallow.

  "I did." He's watching me, trying to read me and what I feel.

  I should be mad. I should be angry at the look he just gave me after he kissed my sister. One of the downfalls of being identical is that if someone is attracted to you, they are attracted to your sister. There are no physical differences. Neither one of us went through the trouble of changing our looks so we would be different.

  "I told her it was a mistake and to forget that it happened. I don't want our friendship to change. I don't know what came over me."

  "Funny. That's what you told me after you kissed me."

  His eyes snap to mine and his body stiffens under my legs before he pushes them off him.

  "Does she know? About that night in the rain?" I ask quietly. Just speaking the words make me nervous. I never kept a secret from my twin in my life.

  I watch the muscles working in his jaw. He always does that when he has something to say but doesn't want to voice it.

  "Probably."

  I swallow the lump in my throat as I recall that night. Miles stands and starts to pace the tiny living room. He looks ridiculous taking four steps only to turn around and take four more.

  "The storm was rolling in. We should have been there for her," I say, trying to hide the guilt that's swallowing me.

  "You wanted to go to that party. I wanted to stop you," he adds.

  I'm not stupid. I don't believe in the fairy tales and true love like London does. I believe in lust, sex, and desperation. Miles acted out of desperation. He wanted me to stay, I wanted to leave. He got my attention. That was probably the case with London as well.

  And that's all that was, I tell myself. But London will dissect and mull over every detail of that kiss. She will wonder why and what it means. Where I call it as I see it, she will see something more.

  "Don't fuck with her, Miles," I warn.

  "Fuck, Brooklyn," he growls, turning to me. "That is the last thing I'm trying to do."

  I nod and lean back, acting satisfied and bored with the discussion. I don't want to talk about it anymore. He told me to forget it happened and I will. If I know anything about Miles, I do know he loves us both and wouldn't hurt us. It's how he loves us that I'm unclear about.

  Miles knows I don't do commitment or relationships. A kiss is just a kiss and sex is just sex. I don't need unconditional love. I already have that. No man will be able to give that to me. My father couldn’t either, so I found it in my other half. That's just fine with me and always has been.

  "Want to go for a run?" I ask. I'm exhausted but we both have something we need to burn off. We used to run every other morning back home since middle school.

  One nod is all it takes and I rush to my room and change. I throw my hair up as I meet Miles in the living room and without talking, we head out to the streets.

  I let the sound of our feet hitting the pavement drown out all thoughts. I don't worry about my dad's condition or how we pay the bills. I don't think about the dancing or even Kane. I even ignore the aches and pains in my body as I push it too hard. I watch as the streets go by and take it in. I let it all paint itself over the memories of home as I make new memories.

  NINE

  London

  This is the first time I've had the car on a weekend, so I plan to use it. Brooklyn isn't dancing tonight, so I decide to go see Miles and his band. Back home, he was in a local band and we never missed a gig. Since moving to Florida, I haven't seen a show. I haven't even met the bandmates.

  "You look hot. Stop messing with your hair," Brooklyn snaps from behind me. I meet her eyes in the mirror.

  "You sure? I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard."

  She rolls her eyes and I laugh at the irony of the situation. She's in yoga pants and a tank top without a scratch of makeup. My hair has been curled so I have light waves, my eyes are dark and smoky, and I'm even wearing heels. We reversed roles. I never look better than her.

  "You don't need to try London. Don't touch your hair again or it's gonna fall flat."

  I leave the bathroom before I can fuss anymore. It's rare I take the time to do my hair and get dressed up. Brooklyn gets to play dress-up every night, so I should take her advice.

  "You have food right? You need anything?"

  "Jesus, London. I am a grown-up. I'll be fine," my sister says as she all but shoves me out the door.

  "Okay. Call me if you need me!"

  I'm on the way to the elevator when the doors slide open. Kane comes out, groceries in hand. He slows when he sees me approaching. I can't help but smile back when his lips slowly pull up into a grin.

  "You look hot. Heading out?" he asks when I'm in front of him. "Or heading to work?"

  "Out. I'm a photographer. I don't work nights," I tell him, trying not to laugh at the embarrassed look that crosses his face briefly.

  "London," he says with a nod. My name rolls off his tongue easily and I love the way it sounds with his deep voice.

  "You're catching on."

  "It's not really fair to the rest of us. There are two of you beauties walking around. The weaker men don't stand a chance."

  I blush at his words and move past him to hit the button for the elevator. I learned the hard way to avoid guys who think we are both attractive, which is impossible in reality since we are identical. So basically, I avoid guys in general.

  "What does that make you? Are you a weaker man, or stronger?" I tease over my shoulder.

  His eyes darken as they travel over my body. I shiver even though the hallway is humid and warmer than outside.

  "I'm not sure yet."

  "Let's hope you don't have to find out."

  The elevator doors open and I wave quickly before slipping outside. When they close and I can't see him anymore, I take a deep breath. Kane has an intensity that makes me uneasy. I feel like I could be swallowed easily by his looks alone.

  I'm not equipped for men like Kane. He's cynical, sexy, and powerful. There's something about him that screams damaged. Brooklyn is the one who can handle a man like that. She loves trouble. I can't even handle the looks he gives me in the hall that probably mean nothing.

  I find the Sand Bar easily and pay my cover charge. Walking inside, I feel a rush of excitement. Everyone around me is happy and dancing around. Loud laughter and talking mingles with the soft sounds of the band warming up. The room is lit with randomly colored light bulbs scattered in the ceiling. I love the way the colors are dancing across the people as they move. Old street signs cover the walls.

  "London?" Miles calls for me. His grin is wide as he jumps off the stage to meet me. "You really came!"

  I'm swept off my feet and spun around as he hugs me tightly. His chest muffles the sound of my surprised squeals when he squeezes me like we haven't seen each other in years instead of just days.

  "Of course I came," I say once I'm back on my feet. "I'm sorry it took so long."

  "Never apologize to me," Miles says, his face growing serious.

  I swallow and nod because as much as I want to apologize for failing in my best friend duties, I don't want to ruin tonight. We can surely fall back into the easy friendship we have.

  "Come, meet the band."

  He pulls me by the hand through the crowd. It's not packed but there are still a lot of people. It's mostly a younger crowd, probably students from the nearby college.

  "Guys, this is London. London, this is Braxton, our drummer."

  Braxton smiles warmly at me. He's a huge guy. He looks like he belongs on a football field rather than a stage. His chest is as wide as two of me put together, and his large hands make the drumsticks look tiny in them. He looks ready to smash anyone that gets in his way, but I feel like he's just a big softie inside. I instantly like him.

  "This is Trent, our bass player, and Jax on the keyboard and backup vocals."

  I look over at the two guys who are obviously checking me out. They both look like they are players with blond hair perfectly styled
and bright blue eyes. They are too pretty to be my type. Trent winks at me and I don't miss the middle finger Miles gives him.

  "Hey," I say with a wave. "Nice to finally meet you guys."

  "And this is Leslie, Braxton's girl."

  I turn to the beautiful blonde who suddenly appears beside us. She's wearing a short floral sundress and strappy sandals. She's a mixture of punk and hippie with the purple and blue streaks running through the loose braid that falls over one shoulder. Bright blue eyes with long lashes take up most of her face.

  Leslie eyes me suspiciously for a second. I shift on my feet, uneasy with her judging. What is she looking for? I'm not the talkative and social one. Usually Brooklyn makes the friends for us.

  "Hey, I'm London," I say just to break the weird silence.

  Leslie must find something in me she must like, because her pursed lips break into a smile.

  "Finally, another set of boobs I can talk to," she shouts and pulls me into a side hug. "I swear I'm stuck with these boys so much, I am gonna start burping loudly and scratching my private parts in public."

  "That's a wonderful image, Les," Miles says as the guys laugh.

  I laugh and the pressure on my chest lifts. I've been avoiding this night for so long, it's good to finally get it over with and it's not so bad. Leslie bounces up on the stage to give Braxton a quick kiss on the lips. She looks so tiny wrapped in the giant's arms, but they look perfect together to me.

  "I wish I'd have brought my camera," I tell Miles.

  Looking around the bar, I see so many things I wish I could freeze and make permanent. A couple kissing on stage. The bartender leaning over and flirting with a customer. A pair of girls watching a guy as he talks to his friends. They’re simple interactions and moments that go unnoticed to everyone else but me.

  "Next time," he says in my ear. "I go on soon. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

  "Nowhere."

  Miles leans in and my heart starts to race when I think he's going to kiss me. Right here. In front of a ton of strangers. Then the awkward moment after will be the real show tonight.