The Pretender - Cora Brent Page 0,61
ever tried tastes like shit. This is no exception.
Camden pauses when I hand the bottle over. She takes a delicate sip and then makes a face. “It’s sour.”
“I think it’s supposed to be. Aging of the grapes or something.” I climb back into bed and fold her into my arms. I drink far more from the bottle than she does and by the time two thirds of it is gone there’s a pleasant warmth spreading in my chest and my head begins to feel a little fuzzy.
There’s still some time before midnight and I don’t have a television on my room so she wants to move to the living room because there’s some New Year’s Eve celebrity show she likes to watch every year. After the wine I’m actually kind of hungry again so I offer to make some scrambled eggs because it’s the only thing I know how to cook and because it’s probably just about the only food we have in the house.
Camden heads to the bathroom to get dressed while I stroll to the living room and switch on the television. We tend to keep the thermostat low to save money and maybe I should be cold in my bare feet and bare chest but the alcohol has the side effect of keeping me warm.
I’ve just found the frying pan when there’s a distinct knock at the door. I cannot even guess who would be stopping by this late in the evening on New Year’s Eve. If I’m about to face the return of Dirtbag then I’ll have no problem sending him back out there sideways no matter how much alcohol I’ve swallowed.
I open the door without looking.
One second later I realize I have made an awful mistake.
Ben
“Bennett.” Grey Drexler, my cousin, says my name with uncertainty. “Damn, you were a kid the last time I saw you.”
“And look at you now,” says his twin with a shake of the head. “You’re almost a man.”
I just stand there, struggling to process what the hell I’m looking at.
How much fucking wine did I drink?
Angus doesn’t wait for my mind to catch up with reality. He pushes right past me and stands in the middle of my living room. This lethal bastard who murdered my father is eight feet away and all I can do is stare.
“Look at this place.” He barks out a mean laugh. “This is just sad.”
Grey is still standing at the threshold and he sighs. “Is it okay if I come in, Bennet?”
Angus makes himself at home on the sofa. “He goes by Ben now. Remember?”
This is no dream or drunken hallucination. Angus and Grey Drexler really are here in my house. Grey is heavier and sports a beard. Angus, on the other hand, looks like he spends plenty of time at the gym. He’s looking around with a palpable air of disgust.
I take a step back and Grey enters the room, shutting the door behind him. I wish with all my might to be clear headed but it’s as if pieces of my brain have been temporarily replaced with cotton. My thoughts run together and I can’t quite straighten them out.
“Where’s Aunt Marlia?” Angus asks. He’s propped his foot up on his knee, like he plans to get comfortable and stay awhile. “I was looking forward to surprising her.”
I remain beside the door in my bare feet. Being shoeless feels like a real disadvantage right now. I cross my arms and try to force away the shock of their arrival and the effects of the wine.
“She went out.” I need to breathe. “What the fuck are you both doing here? How the hell did you find us?”
Grey answers. He’s taken a seat beside his brother but he looks more ill at ease. “We’ve always known where you were. Didn’t take long for the investigators to find you even though your mom tried to cover her tracks. I understand how much you both suffered after your father’s death. I guess Marlia felt like a fresh start would help.”
Angus laughs. “Dad always said she was a nutty bitch. He was right. I mean, fuck, look what she did to you, dragging you to this shithole to live among the poors. What’s she trying to do, serve some kind of jacked up penance?”
Grey shoots his brother a look and then explains. “Our dad and Uncle Layton kept an eye on you, Bennet. Sorry, I meant Ben. Despite the fact that Marlia has always been unstable they didn’t