I had a little bit of a theme going on that day.
We stopped at my favorite spot. Well, my favorite spot for the kind of activity we were doing. It was a clearing next to a sand bar behind a wall of trees where the swamp met the river. Right behind an island King and I had dubbed Motherfucker Island back when we were kids.
Kevin was helping me feed pieces of whoever had been in the bag (The MC’s deal, not mine) to the alligators surrounding the boat. “Well, kid. You wanted in,” I said. “Now you’re in.”
Kevin sent a chunk of what I think was a knee sailing into the brush. A splash of commotion erupted as the gators fought over their dinner of human flesh and cartilage. Kevin laughed and set his feet on the edge of the airboat. The sun began to set. “Thanks, Preppy,” he said, wiping his hands on his shorts.
I nodded and tipped over the cooler, letting any excess blood drip into the water. I set it back down and clapped a hand over Kevin’s shoulder. I smiled brightly. “Welcome to the motherfucking family business, kid.”
“Speaking of family,” I said. “We haven’t exactly got around to talking about that. You ever gonna tell me how exactly you think I’m your brother?”
“Not much to tell,” Kevin said, sitting on the edge of the boat with his back to the gator infested waters. “I was born up North. A little town outside Daytona to the same woman who pushed you out.”
“So she told you about me?” I asked. “‘Cause I find it hard to believe that the woman who left me behind like a couch she didn’t want to bother moving actually spoke my name after she bolted.”
Kevin shook his head. “Nah, never uttered a word about you. I actually don’t remember her speaking at all. A cop found me wandering around the highway in my diaper when I was just a toddler. They handed me over to social services. I grew up in the system.”
“Believe it or not that makes you the luckier one of the two of us,” I said.
Kevin blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. He paused his beer inches from his lips. “Sure, if you call getting beat by your foster parents lucky. Or not getting fed because I wasn’t one of their ‘real kids’ or maybe lucky was that time I was so desperate I let a trucker jack me off outside of a diner in exchange for a hot meal.”
I felt for the kid. I really did but I couldn’t help the way my thoughts worked or the burst of laughter that bubbled up and erupted from my mouth.
“You think that’s fucking funny?” Kevin said, standing up and rocking the boat from one side to the other.
“Yeah, actually I do.”
“Why?” Kevin asked, looking horrified and extremely pissed off. His fists balled at his sides.
“Sit down,” I ordered. Kevin huffed as he took a seat, his arms crossed protectively over his chest.
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “You want to know why I think it’s funny?” I asked, no trace of jokes for this conversation.
“Enlighten me,” Kevin snapped.
“Because I would have killed to trade places with you. You think getting a handy from a trucker is a bad deal? Please, I’d trade a dozen fucking truckers jerking my dick.” I leaned in closer. “Anything would have been better than getting raped by your stepdad. Better than being left behind like unwanted furniture when your mom moves and leaves you alone with a fucking pedophile.”
Kevin’s mouth opened and then shut. He scratched at his unruly head of hair. “So what happened to the stepdad.”
“He died in a tragic on-purpose accident.”
“You killed him?”
“King did,” I said. I stood and pointed to the gators encircling the boat. “First notch on his gun belt. That’s how we first found out about this spot.”
“Shit, man,” Kevin said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t think...”
“So my childhood was a little more rapey than yours. I’m over it, let’s move on.” I waved him off. “So how the hell did you end up in Logan’s Beach?” I asked, reaching into the cooler, the one not designated for body parts. I pulled out two beers and tossed him one.
“I came to find you,” Kevin said.
“And?”
“And you were dead,” Kevin said. His eyes looking everywhere but mine as he took a long pull of his beer. I did the same. We finished at the same time, crashed the cans against our thighs and wiped our mouths with the back of our hands.
We both laughed when we caught each other going through the same motions and that’s when I started to notice the similarities between us. His hair was the only major difference. It was a few shades darker than my sandy blond. A thick mess on top of his head, several weeks over needing a haircut, but he had the same shape face I did although mine was covered with an exceptionally sculpted beard. We had the same hazel colored eyes although mine were set apart wider. He was even about the same height as I was except my build was much bulkier after having started working out with King several months earlier.
King had called it my, ‘gonna get my bitch back’ workout routine. Now it was kind of our daily thing.
Kevin popped another beer and tossed me one. “I’d actually only found out about you because when I turned eighteen, foster care was kicking me out. I didn’t have nowhere to go. My social worker did some digging, told me I might have a brother. Got your name and possible location. Nothing else.” He looked up at me. “Did you know that you’re kind of famous around here?”
“Infamous is more like it,” I offered.
“Whatever you want to call it. Alls I know is that every single person I talked to knew you or knew of you. I even looked up your mug shot so I could see what you looked like. I drove by your house a time or two to see where you lived, before I heard you kicked it. Visited your grave once. Brought you a beer.” He chewed on his lip. “Well, I brought you a beer. I might have drank it for you.”
I smiled. “How fucking thoughtful of you.”
“I met Meryl and Fred when I was selling weed by the bus station. Nice guys. Let me crash with them a few times but they’re not around much. I tell you what though, when you showed up at their house that day, running from that cop I nearly pissed myself when I realized it was you.”
I held up my index and thumb and looked at him through the small space between. “It was a bit shocking for me as well. Never expected to have anyone call me their brother,” I said. “Is your last name really Clearwater?” I asked, remembering what he’d said earlier.
Kevin shook his head. “No,” he said like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “It’s Schmooter.”
I laughed and toasted Kevin and his ridiculous last name, clinking my beer to his. “You need a nickname or something,” I said.
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he agreed.
“I’ll come up with one for you...Schmooty?”
Kevin shook his head.
I started up the boat. “The Kev-ster? It’s very Home Alone. Very 1990.”