Page 61 of Twins for the Enemy

“I can’t call him,” I say. “But we can find another way. I’ll get you the money over time, and I’ll add on even more interest. I just need some time. If you—”

“No,” Samson says. “I’ve run out of time, which means you and your bro have run out of time. I get the money tonight, or I start carving into your brother like Thanksgiving turkey. Call your man and tell him to give you the money.”

“No.”

Samson swings out. I flinch, but he doesn’t hit me. His fist hits the small TV on the dresser. As it crashes down, Samson reaches for one of the top drawers on the dresser, yanking it out and slamming it on the floor. He picks it up again and smashes it against the mirror hanging on the wall.

Neal launches forward, trying to yank the drawer out of Samson’s hands, but Samson doesn’t let go. They glare at each other over a drawer filled with underwear and packets of gum.

“Do not threaten my sister,” Neal hisses. “Just go. I’ll get her to come around.”

Samson narrows his eyes, the edge of his lips curling up to show his teeth. Silent seconds pass. Samson’s shoulders slowly lower, and he opens both of his hands, letting the drawer drop. Neal’s underwear tumbles out.

“Fine,” he says. “But you know the price if you fail.”

Samson winks at me before lumbering to the door. As he leaves, he slams the door shut.

I should be terrified of Samson’s threat dangling over us, but Neal’s intervention felt like a step back in time, when he would have walked through hell to protect me from our father’s rage.

I grab onto him, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been right here.” He smiles at me as I pull away. “You’re the one who left. But he’s right. If he doesn’t get the money, some bad people are coming after him. And if I don’t give him the money, he’s coming after me.”

“We could leave. Get out of the city. We may need to any—”

“No, Farah.” He combs his fingers through his hair. “Running isn’t going to help. You can just ask that guy for money, can’t you? That money is nothing to someone like him. It’s a penny. Less than a penny.”

I shove my hands in my pockets again, my fingers curling around Kieran’s credit card.

“I don’t want to owe him,” I say.

“Do you want me to owe Samson? Because that’s the kind of loan you can’t default on.”

I look away from him. So, he wasn’t leading me out of hell. He just wanted to soften the blow when I made a deal with the devil.

He’s not the brother he used to be. I should know we can’t go back to who we once were.

“Will you go to rehab after this?” I ask.

“Of course,” he says, putting the drawer back into the dresser. It scrapes loudly as he shoves it in. It doesn’t escape me that he doesn’t look me in the eye. He picks up his scattered underwear and packets of gum.

“Kieran and I were fighting about not being honest with each other,” I say. “I found out his sister was Helena Porter.”

Neal’s head jerks up. “What? Isn’t his last name different than that?”

“They’re foster siblings.”

“Hm.”

Neal returns to collecting his things and dumping them in the drawer. He’s strangely methodical for someone who has a half-full milk carton sitting on top of a laptop, which lies on top of a pizza box, which lies on top of a binder with the label taxes? It’s a towerof disorderliness, and he’s rolling up his underwear to press into the edges of a drawer.

“I feel like I lost someone important,” I admit.

“You’ll find someone else,” he says.

It’s meant as a reassurance, but as the words permeate the barriers in my mind, I’m even more certain that I won’t find anyone else. There could be other men in my future, but they’d just be filling up space. They’d be temporary distractions.

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