Brothers of Darkness

Chapter 5: Patrick

Sunday, December 31st

"Okay, Mom. Yeah, yeah, I promise." Patrick glanced at the clock. It was almost nine, and he was late.

I moved out to get away from this.

With a final round of goodbyes, Patrick snapped the phone closed and jammed it in his pocket. True, it was a cell phone, it traveled, but what twenty-five-year-old wanted to be seen talking to his mother? Not that he didn't feel bad for her. He was the only one she had. His dad split when he was a kid, and his younger brother was nowhere to be found.

Younger brother. It was kind of funny. When he thought of Michael as a "younger brother", he pictured the six-year-old version with a dirty face and a skinned knee. The current Michael was twenty-two with long hair and a bad attitude.

And he was missing.

He'd disappeared six months ago. He'd been mowing lawns for some rich guy, or so he'd said. Patrick's memory was blurry, but he remembered his brother's story about a wild s*x party followed by an insane plan to rob his employers. When Patrick told him how stupid it was, he'd thought that was the end, but a few days later Michael stomped out in the middle of the night, taking their mother's gun and leaving a pair of bloody jeans in the hamper. They'd filed a missing person's report, given the cops photos of Michael and info on his car, but nothing came of it. Not that the cops cared. Mikey was just a Mullens. Goodbye and good riddance.

A little stab of guilt shot through Patrick as he tugged his clothes smooth. He hadn't told the cops Michael's crazy story, or his plan, because he was pretty sure it was all B.S. No rich guy was going to have a mansion of playboy bunnies in rural Ohio, especially not a secret mansion. It was more likely Mikey was selling drugs, got tired of being in the lower ranks, and wanted more money. It was an even better bet he'd gotten involved in a fight with them - hence the bloody jeans and the missing gun. They'd probably killed him over it, and dumped both his body and his car where it would never be found.

That, or his robbery plan worked and he was living the high life in Mexico.

The second was the story Patrick liked to believe because, in it, his hiding the jeans from his mom, convincing her she'd lost the gun ages ago, and not telling the cops everything, didn't hurt - didn't stop them from discovering the truth. Just the opposite; it helped his brother flee from justice.

Right, because I'm so goddamn helpful.

Patrick pushed the thoughts aside and checked himself in the mirror. He finger-combed his messy blond hair. Some guys spent a lot of time to achieve the same casual-just-out-of-bed look that came naturally to him. In fact, his hair wouldn't do anything else.

He debated, then traced eyeliner around his eyes. A girl had once told him it made the blue of his irises "pop". He could only assume that was a good thing, and he needed something good. Hell, he could even use a girl.

Girls.

There should be a few at the party. What was New Year's Eve without them? Though they were getting old enough he'd have to start calling them women soon. That felt weird, like he was talking about his mother and her friends.

With the mysterious word "women" went the word "men". Sure, they threw it around since they were twelve, but to actually think in those terms - man, woman - was some sort of admission Patrick wasn't ready for yet. It was like saying "I'm an adult and this is my adult life". He hoped to hell this wasn't really it. He had plans; plans that involved a house, a job, a wife, and a regular family. He just wasn't sure how to get there.

Final touches done, he grabbed his leather jacket and a six pack, and bounced out the door. After a few steps he remembered the lock, so he backtracked.

You need to remember this s**t. Mom's not here to do it for you. How the f**k is it gonna look if someone steals your stuff and you've only had the place two months?

***

He found his friend Anthony downstairs in the miniature lobby. With caramel colored skin and dark eyes, his naturally curly hair was straightened and gelled to messy perfection. A stud glittered in his nose, and his tight jeans hung just low enough without showing his ass. Neither black nor white, with an attempt to look like something from MTV, Anthony Clearfield fit into small town Ohio as well as Patrick did. Sometimes he wondered why Anthony didn't move; why they both didn't move.

"Hey man, about time."

Patrick compulsively checked his mailbox; nothing. "Sorry, my mom was on the phone, being all weepy and shit."

Anthony smirked and moved for the heavy doors that led outside. "She hittin' the bottle a little early?"

"Pretty much."

The pair hurried out to Anthony's waiting car. Patrick slouched into the passenger seat and chaffed his hands in front of the heater vents. "Who's gonna be there?"

"Twila is bringing some of her friends, and of course Mark and Hailey."

"And that d**k, Christenson?" Patrick asked with no enthusiasm.

"Of course, he's Hailey's brother. You two should get over that s**t. It was five years ago."

Patrick grunted. "Tell him that." He tapped out a silent beat on his knees. "Churo gonna be there?"

"Nah, he's hanging out in Dunwick with the losers." Anthony's grin took the sting from the insult. "So, New Year's. What's your resolution?"

Resolutions. Goals. They were all the same thing. Patrick had worked at the gas station for six months. If he didn't miss any more days he might get promoted to shift manager. Then maybe manager. By then he'd have a car and, if he was lucky, a girl to ride in it. He just needed to take things seriously this time and not blow up -

Anthony interrupted his thoughts. "Earth to Pat! Your res-oh-loo-tions."

He was afraid to mention his plans out loud, as if it might curse him, so he muttered, "I don't know. You?"

"I've been thinking about calling my cousin, down in Texas. Ray. You remember him? He came up that summer in sixth grade. Anyway, he's got a locksmith business and called Mom, wanting me to come down and join him."

"You're really thinking about it?" Maybe Anthony had finally wised up.

"I don't know. I mean, Texas? It's f*****g hot down there. Besides, I got it made here." Anthony broke into laughter.

Patrick scoffed and shook his head. He hoped Anthony was joking.