My dad stomped back inside the house. He was grumbling and complaining, obviously upset by our unwelcome visitors. He stopped in front of the kitchen entryway. "DAMN YOU, EMORY! WHY DO YOU LET IN THAT CLOWN BITCH IN THIS HOUSE!? AND HER LITTLE RED HEN! A NUISANCE, THAT'S ALL SHE IS! SO IS HER GOD FORSAKEN FATHER. THE CLOWN!" My dad slammed his fist down on the counter. A broken hinge on the cabinet fell off. "CLOWN BITCH IS RIGHT!' Cherís bellowed from the hallway. I heard her grunt as she strolled back in the kitchen. 'DAMN JESTER GOT FUCKING BLOOD ON MY KNIFE! I WAS PLANNING ON TRYING THIS OUT ON SOMEONE ELSE. NOW I'VE GOT HER GIGGLE GERMS ON IT!" She yelled, sitting on the counter. As she got up there she mumbled something under her breath.
I walked over to the bullet laden cabinet doors. "You'd think with all the shooting that goes on in this house we'd get bullet proof doors." "And what point would that serve, huh smart ass?!" My father demanded. I turned to look at him, he was leaned across the island checking his 'precious' gun to make sure it didn't get hit. "No, I'm fine. I wear a bullet proof vest all the time." I whispered to myself. "WHAT WAS THAT EM-ME?" Cherís questioned, sitting on the counter, cleaning off her double sided knife. One side was rusty which probably held diseases unknown to man and the other side was new, like she got it out the package yesterday. "SPEAK UP EMORY! TALK LIKE A DAMN FIELD MOUSE." My father muttered, flipping his coin over. "Nothing." I sigh, turning my back to them. Yet again, Cherís and my father have proven that they are the true twins in this family. Mom and I were more alike, but not enough for me to not feel alone sometimes.
"Emory' I ignored my father's call. He always did this. You're no good, Emory. You're sister's better, Emory. Why can't you be a man? 'Emory!' I heard my dad click another pack into his gun. He'd shoot me if I didn't turn around. Sometimes I think it'd be better if he did. I shuffled to face him. He was squatting low, looking through the trajectory analysis rather than me. He held his 'lucky' coin in the other hand, flipping it without looking at it. It's probably a habit he's developed now, just as he glares straight through me every time we speak. But when he's angry he sees me, he always does. I was the deer in the headlights as he put it. The permanent scowl on his face bore into me. 'Son what's wrong with you?" I had a lot of answers to that question, instead I gave him the one he wanted to hear. "I'm not sure." The left side of my dad's face turned blue also. He threw his gun to the side. It exploded with a loud shot. None of us flinched or stared in that direction. The impact was probably repairable. Not like anyone could gauge that except for me. I'm the only one who did work on this house. Whether Cherís had a party, my dad had a mob meeting or something unexpected happens, I always cleaned up the mess. In fact I still have a sting in my arm from the last time my dad had his goons show up at our house unannounced.
They made a huge amount of work for me shooting, laughing and pilfering through our cabinets. Next time I'll buy a bottle of goon-away spray, I mentally tell myself. During their adventures, Carlos, one of my dad's guys, ended up drinking a whole bottle of vodka and shot holes through the roof cuz he saw 'the birds coming for him'. This resulted in me going onto the roof to patch it up, in the rain. I fell off twice. All I remember was seeing Cherís underneath an umbrella. She was staring down at me, shaking her head in disappointment. "Come on Em-Me. A regular contractor couldn't get anything done in this rain. She helped me up and took me inside. Three weeks later I found out I dislocated my elbow. It's okay though, cuz my dad decided he could pop it back in, considering he's a licensed professional. Let me say, Worst day of my life.
"Em-Me sometimes I'm not sure about you." Cherís commented from the sidelines as she filed her nails with her knife. I looked around the kitchen. Where was dad? He must have stormed away, when I zoned out. "That's beautiful you know, cuz I don't get you either." I say bending to grab the toolbox from underneath the sink. A whooshing air passes by me as I look to my left. A rusty knife stares back. "You were off by an inch." I respond, yanking the knife out of the cabinet. Great, just one more thing to fix in this house. I grab the toolbox and throw the knife. Cherís catches the handle, smooth and clean without a drop of blood on her. "I missed on purpose." She grinned, returning to filing her nails. "You're getting a little rusty." I joke. She scowls. "You've been around Katrina too long, Em-Me." "Stop calling me that." I growl. "What?' Cherís leans forward 'Em-Me? Why shouldn't I call you Em-Me? It is your name, Em-Me?" She baited. I gripped the wrench I was holding harder. Since my back was to her, she couldn't see me getting angry. But that's what she wanted, for me to get angry. Cherís only wanted me to get angry so she could out angry me. She always had to prove she was the better twin. Em-Me was a childhood name that Cherís wouldn't let me live down. When we were small she could never pronounce Emory so she called me Em-Me. My mother thought it was adorable at the time, but mom isn't around to see the monster she created. Now I'm stuck with this annoying nickname that drives me crazy and she knows that. "Cherís." I warn. "Yes." She purrs. There was only one other person I knew who purred and I was gonna use that to my advantage. If all went well, she'd get mad, storm out then I'd have the kitchen to myself so I could repair it. "Lock up your kitty. His claws are showing." I smirk, knowing full well she was seething.
That's when my phone beeped. I squat down to answer it. A harsh wind zipped above my head. I peered up. Right where my head used be were two knives and a fork. I forgot she could split her knife in half. I glare back at her. "Oops." She fakes. I shake my head and look at my text #Frm: Krazy Kat: Meet us at the spot. Tell daddy half legs it was fun! LOL. I sigh, Katrina will be the death of me. I start to stand up, hitting my head against the fork handle, if Cherís doesn't get there first. I place the wrench back in the box. This mess will be here when I get back. I walk out of the kitchen. "And where do you think you're going?" Cherís interrogates catching up to me. "Out." I answer, grabbing my jacket off the coat rack. It had a few slashes in it. This is probably useless to fight off the cold, I think.
Yet, I shrug it on anyways. It was starting to become autumn. The temperature in Gotham was as unpredictable as their worst villains. No one knew the weather and our local forecasters didn't even try to predict it. Cherís yanked her coat on too. "Then I'm going with you." She declares. I shrug "Suit yourself." I close the gaping front door. Funny, we just leave the doors open in our house and no one is worried. Then a flash of panicked blue eyes appear in my mind. No one except for Barbara. I have to explain all of this. I mean I wish I could have helped her, but, but... Like my father says, I'm not a man. As I get in the driver's seat, Cherís glares at me from the passenger side. "Tell me where you're going or I'll tell dad." I bark "Dad? Dad left twenty minutes ago in a category 6 rage. We'll hear about his night on the front page news." "Him and the Joker's." Cherís added. I grunted. "Yeah, him and the Joker." My father and Katrina's dad have a long and complicated history, some of it I'm still confused about. All I know is they hate each other most of the time, want to kill the Bat the majority of the time and team up with each other every other time. Mix that in with a gang of 1920's gangsters, a harlequin, and a circus of giggling clowns and you've got the most complex relationship in history; second to none other than the Joker and Batman themselves.
I pulled in front of The Spot and shut off the lights. The Spot was an old condemned five story building. Katrina and her parents once lived here while on the run. The building itself wasn't terrible. It was a dusk gray color with some of the metal frame showing. It was sinking to the side a bit. That could be due to the river, I'm sorry, landfill that is the Gotham City River. This is the spot where everything has to pass through before being dumped into the ocean miles away. Every year the Gotham City Earth Preservation Association or GEPA as we call it, comes out and tries to clean it up. They never make it this far down the river though. Someone always ends up dying or becoming injured by the chemical waste that's mixed in there. Why those fools won't give up is a mystery to me. I got out the car. "Really, The Spot, Emory?! I thought you meant 'out' as in you were going somewhere. Not this wasteland." She complains. I shrugged walking through the building entrance. "Don't come in. You can walk home." Cherís growled. "No." I heard her say as she stomped inside after me. We climbed the three flights of stairs that it took to get to our hang out. The light was on when we approached. I juggled the handle and opened the door. As I walked in my only priority was to speak to Barbara.
Our hang out was a five bedroom, two bathroom apartment. Once you walked in there was a master bedroom to the left and a hallway on the right. The living room was in front of you and the kitchen was adjacent to the living room. It wasn't much but I called it home. Katrina was sprawled out on the couch watching tv. I stepped further inside. Barbara wasn't in the master bedroom. There was a good chance she was in one of the other rooms though. Before I ventured further, I heard a grunting sound from behind me. Then I turned around and there she was. Barbara was near the counter in the back. Her back was to me but it didn't matter, she was still beautiful. Even with her backbone sticking out of her shirt. Was she always that fit? I sat at the attached L shaped breakfast bar in one of the new chairs. The chairs we stole swirled around and were more comfortable than the crap it came with. I took a second to soak up the picture of Barbara. The way her shoulders jerked up and down, when she turned to the side I could see a sliver of boob bouncing around through her paper thin shirt, the curve in her back that caused me to shiver. And her butt, it wasn't large, kinda medium-sized but I thought it was perfect. Her bright red-orange hair stuck to the back of her head. What would it feel like to run my hands through it? I imagined her hair sweaty and wet as I ran my fingers through it. I'd glide easily into her and she'd say my name over and over as I sent her into an organism she'd never forget. I let out a little groan, then opened my eyes.
Everyone was looking at me. "Emory, you okay?" Katrina questioned, turning down the volume of the tv. I swerved to face them, keeping my hands distinctly in my lap and shook my head. "I'm fine. Just thirsty is all." Katrina beamed. "Great! Barbara's making lemonade right now, so she can quench your thirst." She giggled resuming the volume on whatever she's watching. I swerved around again, noticing that Barbara turned to stare at me. She had a weird look on her face. Oh no! Could she see what I was thinking? It wasn't written on my forehead, I pushed my hair away from my head. Nope, no writing on my skin, I'm saved. She just stood there suspended in time. Great Emory, now you stopped her from what she was doing. Barbara dropped the lemon she was squeezing. "Hey Barbara." I stated, hoping to not make an ass of myself this time. "Hey, hey Emory." She answered, bending down to pick up the lemon. My eyes went straight to her backside.
Look at her face, I told myself as I stared at her butt. Was she doing this in slow motion or was I going crazy, either way I was picking up on 'extra' activity with her doing that. Her shirt rid up in the back. I could see exposed porcelain skin and a splatter of freckles here and there. I closed my eyes wondering what other body parts were freckled. Obviously her face and her back. What if she showed up at my house naked. She'd ring the doorbell and I'd answer. "Ba-ba-Barbara! What are you, you-" I'd try not to stare at her body or the way her curtains matched the drapes. She'd stroll in, placing one finger on my lips. "Ssshhhh, hush now Emory. I want you. I've wanted you for a long time.' She'd push me against the wall, her soft body causing mine to harden. Barbara would lean in. 'I can't wait anymore." Then she'd yank at my shirt collar and kiss me. A heavy hand gripped my shoulder. I flinched and looked up.
Evan Kyle was staring back at me. He was smirking. "Hey Emory and Emory #2." He gleefully announced. I pushed his hand off of me. "Hi Evan." I grunt, shoving my hands deep into my pockets. "Emory #2? What's that about?" Barbara questions, moving the lemon juice to the counter in front of me. Evan grins at me. "Don't you dare." I threaten. Evan laughs. "It's a joke Emory and I have. Total guy bs, you wouldn't get it." "O." Barbara mouths, walking away. I grab Evan's shirt and pull him close. "Woah there partner, I'm not Barbara." He jokes whispering. "Do not ruin this for me!" I hiss. He knows that I have a thing for Barbara. "Alright, but tell Romeo down there that you've got to get a date first before he claims her as his own." I pushed at him. "I told you that's weird." "What's weird?" Barbara asks, mixing all the ingredients into a pitcher. "That I've never shown you how to make my grandma's famous iced lemonade. Here I'll show you." Evan insisted, slinking to stand behind Barbara. She starts to blush. "Evan, I don't think-" Evan places a finger on her lips. "Shhhhh, sssshhh. Dear Barbara, don't think just do." He cooes. She blushes again.
Well that answers that. Barbara has a thing for Evan. Evan tenderly covered her left hand. "Evan, what are you-" Evan bought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He tucked a strand of hair behind Barbara's ear. She laughed. "Here let me show you how." He wrapped both hands on top of hers and they started to stir. I wanted to do that. She was mine and Evan knew it. He was doing this on purpose. He looked at me as if asking for a challenge. I couldn't go up against him, I'd never win. When I turned away, I saw him bend down and talk to her. They were in low, inaudible tones. I wanted to kill Evan in that moment. Finally I understand why my father and sister hate so many people. The flame of anger is great. I balled my hands into a fist. Now I'm starting to wonder why Evan and I are even friends. The seducer looked up and winked at me. 'All you bro. All you.' He mouthed. I wanted to punch him in the mouth. Instead, I got up and went to sit next to Katrina. She made room for me on the couch. I stared at the blonde, she'd never flirt with Barbara just to play with me. No, she wouldn't, finally a person I trust.
