“Yeah, growing dafter.” When the fridge door closes, Brin is holding a beer.
“Make yourself at home,” I mutter.
“Do you want one?”
“Do I want one of my own beers? Chance would be a fine thing.” Despite the building having a shopping service, which operates a bit like the minibar in a hotel with a member of staff checking stock levels daily somehow, I rarely get more than a couple of beers down my throat each week. “To what do I owe this pleasure, anyway?”
“I was shopping and too tired to go home,” Prim says.
“Same,” Brin says, pulling out a bottle opener. “But I’m tired because I haven’t been home since last night.”
“Ew,” Prim exclaims, scrunching her nose. “You dirty fuck boy! I bet you’re wearing the same clothes.”
“Yeah, but to be fair, they’re pretty clean. I was out of them most of the time.”
“Double ew! I can’t believe you got in the elevator with me. I’ve been breathing in your sex particles!”
“Not sure it works like that.”
She swings around and ducks under the kitchen sink. When she stands again, she’s holding a bottle of some kind of organic Febreze alternative. “That’s what they said before Louis Pasteur discovered germ theory.” She begins to spray Brin with the bottle. “Be gone, vile sex particles! Out, damn spot, out!”
“I never let a lady sleep in the damp spot,” he says with a laugh, dodging around the kitchen island.
“You’re such a dirty ho bag!”
“A dirty ho bag the ladies love.” He makes a dash for her, snatching the spray bottle out of her hand. “This suit cost me five grand!” A tussle ensues. Squealing. Tickling. Profanity.
I sigh. There goes my evening.
“Am I ordering Thai for three, or what?” I yell over the din.
“Oh yes, please. I want dumplings,” Prim says, abandoning the sanitation of her brother. “And some of those yummy noodles you got last time.”
“Not for me.” Brin pours half the contents of his beer down his throat. “I’m going out.”
“Burning the candle at both ends.” Primtsks. “You’ll never make as much money as our illustrious leader.”
“Who’d want to,” he says. “Look at him. At thirty-six, he’s going gray and eating takeout with his little sister on a Saturday night.”
“Someone has to be with him,” Primrose says, not exactly rising to my defense.
“No one has to be with me,” I protest. “I’m not ancient!”
“Besides, I’m his favorite sibling,” Prim continues as though I haven’t spoken.
“Suck-up.” Brin snickers.
“It’s all part of my life plan. I’m going to look after him in his dotage, and then when he dies, he’ll leaveallhis money to me.”
“Charming.” Neither of them looks my way. “Go ahead,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “Discuss me as though I’m not here.”
“There, there, Leif.” Primrose pats my arm. “Try not to gettoowound up. The stress you’re under is already immense.” She grins.
“The stress I’m under is suddenly increasing.”
“It’s all part of the plan,” she says, laughing. “We’ll knock a few more years off your life yet.”
“I’ll cancel your food.”
