Excerpt: C's Comeuppance

Excerpt: C's Comeuppance

Book 2: Bone Cold-Alive Series


“Consider yourself kicked out of my wife’s house.” 

Edward Charles Samuels slanted his gaze from the television to his twin brother. His feet dangled over the arm of the loveseat and the remote control rested on his chest. “Are you smirking as you say that?”

Edwin Thomas Samuels dropped the stuffed duffel bags, a piccolo showing from the top of one, then kicked at C’s bare foot. “Okay, then consider yourself persona non grata. Vamoose!”

“Like, for the afternoon? Have you seen this video?” He pointed with the remote control. “It could have been made by you before you got religion.” He started zipping through the channels. “Need a little afternoon-er with wifey before the kid gets home, T?” He settled further into the cushions. “Hell, I can sit on the porch and keep what’s-his-face entertained while you two f—”

“That’s quite all right. Such a generous offer.” T grabbed for and claimed the remote control. “But I don’t think you’re getting the whole picture.” He clicked the set off. “Lyla says you are out of here. Permanently. She even packed your bags. Take ’em to the Blue Dream Inn.”

C sat upright. “Is it the bun in the oven that has her so wound up or is it you’re not getting any?”

T moved to the door, held it open. “You’ve got less than a minute, then your ass had better clear this door before she gets in here.”

“What set this off? Was it something I said?” C stood, hands on hips, long blond hair flowing over his shoulders. His cut-offs were indecently short and torn. The concert T-shirt was clean, but one sleeve was missing. “You get sober, get married, get whupped, and hell, I don’t know you any more! No wonder Fletch is in the Holy Land finding himself!”

“Maybe our illustrious leader should have taken you ’cause you’re pretty damn lost, too. You should have stayed in California, C. I told you. But if you like this part of Texas so much, go buy your own place.” T set his jaw, walked to the duffels, picked them up and tossed them onto the porch. They bounced and skidded the autumn leaves gathered there. 

“Hey, watch the piccolo!” He stared at his brother. “Everybody takes time off to find themselves and I’m the only one that’s not lost. I did my work in California, which is more than I can say for you and the rest of them. Especially our Mr. Levi Fletcher. The going gets tough, the band manager gets going. I bet the only part of himself he’s finding is his—”

His tirade was met with a silent glare.

  “Okay, okay. I’m between women right now. You know how I get when I’m not—” he adjusted himself in the too-tight cut-offs— “otherwise engaged.” 

T pointed out the door. “Go! I’m not going to argue with you. Be gone!”

“Be gone?” C was incredulous. “Be gone? Damn, T, you reading Shakespeare at night? Prissy-missy won’t let you touch her—”

C jumped as T reached for him, thwarting the attempt to bodily remove him. “So tell me, T,” he started as he sorted the piccolo from the clothes, then picked up the duffels. “Is it all worth it? Someone telling you what to do, making you kick your own flesh and blood out of her house, setting limits where there didn’t use to be any?”

T snorted. “Where have you been, C? I’m free for the first time in my life and I have no limits.”