“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.”

He rolled his eyes.

I threw down the throttle and shouted over the wind. “Handy-Kevin?”

Kevin flicked me off.

“What? Too soon?” I asked.

“Fuck off,” Kevin said, trying to hide his smile with his hand.

“I hate to bring this up when we’re having such a swell time and all,” I started, raising my voice above the sound of the engine and the wind as I sped us up faster and faster. Kevin gripped the metal bar attached to the seat between his legs. “But you know if I find out you had anything to do with what happened with Dre last night, or if you fuck with her or my kid in any way that makes me twitchy, you’ll be the one getting fed to the those fucking gators on the next go-round.”

I don’t know how I expected him to react after I threatened him, but I didn’t expect him to smile, which was exactly what he did. “I didn’t doubt that for a second, Prep,” he shouted back.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

I pushed down the throttle, zooming over the shallow water and tall grass. I made a few sharp turns and a few one-eighties for shits and giggles along the way. Kevin even sang along with me for a very off pitch rendition of “Piece by Piece” by Kelly Clarkson. Well, it was more ‘screaming into the wind’ than actual singing.

In my gut, I didn’t feel like Kevin had anything to do with trying to take Dre, but I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. At least not yet. And family to me was everything, but the saying that blood was thicker than water didn’t mean jack shit to me because I knew who my family was and blood was something we spilled for one another, not shared.

“Maybe next time we come out here we’ll run the gators. See how big your balls are,” I said.

“What the hell is run the gators?” Kevin asked.

“I’ll show you next time,” I said.

After I few minutes of silence I looked over to Kevin and burst out laughing. His mouth was wide open, his cheeks puffed out by the wind, exposing all this teeth and gums. He gave me a thumbs up.

Silly little fucker.

I kind of like my brother. I thought to myself.

It would really suck to have to kill him.

CHAPTER FIVE