come upon her, though he wasn’t certain how long it would last. Lucas was a good man, but he seemed to internalize everything, and once he felt helpless, he’d withdraw and shut down. Maybe that was why Mãe always seemed to baby him. He needed more tenderness than King and Tomas required—a cup that was never full. He lacked confidence and gumption, but not because he didn’t desire it or try. He rarely stood up for himself, but he was intelligent. One of the smartest guys King had had the pleasure of knowing. Incredibly smart. King always wished Lucas had gone into engineering or some scientific or medical field like Chris. He had the brains for it. He simply didn’t trust himself.
They all sat there, hour after hour, though it felt like days were passing. A fog of minutes all blending together in shades of gray. He fought the urge to stalk Tomas’ typical haunts to track him down. He’d already checked his social media before he’d arrived, to no avail. Besides, perhaps it was for the best that he stayed put. His mother needed him there, not out racing around in search of blood, even though that blood was like his own. He’d always been her rock. Her support. He wanted to detonate. But the clock was keeping him hostage. Time was at a standstill, all on account of his brother.
He’s so fucking selfish. Look what he’s doing to the family? Over and over again. The attention is all on him, just how he likes it. In the coming hours, his parents tried to cheer themselves up, but he knew they were just going through the motions. King had eaten his mother’s delicious Feijoada: a pork, beef, and bean stew with cheese bread. Soon thereafter, he’d fallen asleep. Twice, in fact. He texted friends, including Shane, about some modeling gig he’d arranged for him to pursue—of course Shane got a finder’s fee so he was in hot pursuit. He’d spoken to Chris about work, completed an old puzzle, and pretended everything was fine when Lucas called to say hi, per his parents’ request.
At Chris’ urging, Mãe had finally gone to their bedroom to sleep. King stayed alone on the couch, a thick quilt wrapped around his body that Mãe had insisted on placing over him since he didn’t wish to go into one the guest bedrooms. He wasn’t in the mood to be behind closed doors. As he fell into a fit of slumber, flirting with rest at 2:01 A.M. and mentally preparing to go back home in an hour or so, the front door alarm slowly chimed. He lifted his head from the small throw pillow and observed someone putting in the alarm code. The living room was fairly dark, but he could make out a person standing there, motionless. He knew that shadow. The thin, frame and broad shoulders of his brother.
One thud. Then another. Then another.
The steps heavy.
Dreadful.
King spun around and turned on a table lamp. The two sized each other up. King slowly got to his feet. Tomas smirked, his expression haughty. His complexion though was sallow, his eyes washed out as if there was no truth within him, no blood pumping, no signs of life. His clothing was wrinkled, his black hair disheveled. Death and evil danced in his syrup-colored brown eyes as his stare became more intense.
“What tha fuck are you doing here?” Tomas chuckled after asking the question, rolled his eyes as if King was an inconvenience to his otherwise pleasant life, then tossed his jacket across the foyer table. Every cell within King’s body burned like hot coals wrapped in freshly poured tar. His muscles tensed, including ones he didn’t even know he had. His fists clenched and his teeth hurt as he gritted them so hard, they may have cracked from the pressure.
“Where is Chris’ car?” Tomas ignored him, stumbling towards the kitchen. He quickly followed behind him. “Fucker, where the hell is Dad’s car?”
Tomas slowly turned around, pointed at him, and laughed.
“First of all, ya fuckin’ bastard, it’s my father, mmmkay? And where my father’s car happens to be is none of your fuckin’ business.”
“I gave you a hundred chances. You backstabbed me. Hurt me. I kept my distance for the sake of the family. Forget me, though. Take me out of the equation, Tomas. Look at what you’re doing to our mother. You’re killing her!”
“Oh, you’d know somethin’ about that, now wouldn’t you?” Tomas opened a cabinet. A