Chapter 28 #2
"That sounds fun. Where's the coolest place you've ever been?" I ask innocently, propping my elbow on the table, and balancing my head in my hand like he's the most interesting thing in the world.
"Well, hon, that depends. I've been to the tar pits. I've been in and out of most parts of this continent. Was a sailor before the seas turned against us. Was in Zaphira a while back," he mumbles, sucking the last drops of his drink, his tongue slopping around his mouth, as he signals for another.
"Oh really? What was Zaphira like?" I question.
"Oh, wouldn't you... like to know?" He hiccups through the sentence mumbling. This might be a dead end.
"SHE SAID..." Farra starts, practically screaming, speaking slowly as if he doesn't understand the common tongue. But she's cut off by one of his younger, more coherent friends.
He smacks the old man on the back of his head.
"Stop scaring the women, Uncle Chem."
The old man grumbles, taking his new drink back to the table of misfits behind us.
"Hello ladies, sorry about that. He's a blubbering idiot, but he's about the only family I have left," says the young man, with a laugh.
Before we can even respond, we're interrupted on the other side of us.
"Only family you have? That's a boldfaced lie."
I'm staring at a mirror image of the first guy, sandy-blond hair, grey-green eyes. Tall, broad shouldered, and grinning the same grin as we bounce back and forth down the bar at each of them.
"Macklin," the first says, holding out his hand.
"Briggs," says the other, holding out his as well.
I take the hand closest to me.
"My friends call me Mack though," he says playfully.
"I think I'm drunk. I'm seeing double," Farra tries to whisper, leaning into me. Her volume is off, which leads me to believe her statement.
"Not double, just twins. Although we do get that a lot," says the one closest to her, Briggs I think.
Briggs comes over to stand by Mack at the bar so we don't have to crane our necks back and forth.
I'm thankful for his thoughtfulness as I scan them for a second longer, catching very subtle differences between the two.
Mack is slightly shorter, maybe by an inch, and Briggs's head's a little bigger, his jaw slightly sharper, but again, it's not all that noticeable unless you're really looking.
"Would you ladies like a drink?" Briggs says gazing a little too long at Farra.
She starts to decline, but we're here for a reason, and I have a feeling these two are a wealth of information.
"We'd love that," I chirp, squeezing Farra's arm as she frowns at me.
Fifteen minutes later, we've moved to a new table. Farra's laughs are getting wilder as she continues to drink. I've paced myself, repeating my three-drink mantra in my head over and over. I hate being hungover.
The boys are telling a story of the road. About the time their Uncle got robbed by a band of children in the south, and never lived it down. So far, I haven't got them to tell us much about their time beyond the borders, but I haven't pried just yet. Gaining trust while drinking can be fickle.
"There you are!" Deacon says, sliding his arm around me and pulling me close to him with a kiss on the top of my head.
My eyebrows narrow up at him in confusion, because we both know exactly what that move was. Territorial. He glances at the two newcomers across from us, who are telling a story to Farra as she descends into another fit of giggles.
I have never seen Farra giggle.
I shrug off Deacon's arm, annoyance radiating from me.
I used to love when Deacon did this back home, and he did it often.
Anytime I'd get attention from anyone other than him, actually, now that I think of it.
I was his, and I was so desperate for any scrap of his attention that I never really pushed back to question why the same rules didn't apply to him.
I was his, but he sure as shit wasn't mine.
He had girlfriends and lots of other friends.
I had reconciled with it because I was his best friend. Told myself it was all surface-level compared to our relationship, and that was what always kept me content. I was his chosen family, the most important friend, and that was enough.
It's ironic, really, how coming here was supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice on my part ––the suffocating end to a bitter life back home.
But it feels less and less like that now.
Being forced to come here has changed me somehow, in such a short time.
Leo and Farra have changed me; maybe even Berkley and Tarius have, too.
Deacon leans into me a little, and his presence feels more overwhelming the longer I sit here.
I move to the other side of the table, taking the fresh drink Mack offers me.
Deacon gives me a look. I roll my eyes, maybe a little too obnoxiously, at him and make a pfft sound.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognize that alcohol makes me more combative.
I should probably cool it, but I can't seem to reel it in as I think of all the ways he's interfered over the years.
He gives me a wounded look and heads toward the bar, but for once I don't let it make me feel guilty. I refocus on the twins.
"...And then you ate that scorpion on a dare, and spent a week in the hospital!" Mack is pretending to punch his brother's shoulder, while Briggs howls.
"Easiest coin I've ever made, I just layed in bed for a week. I don't see the problem," he jokes.
Farra is enthralled by their stories, their easy comradery. Leo has wandered off somewhere, and Deacon has also disappeared, much to my relief.
"Have you guys ever been to Soland or Zaphira?" I ask casually.
The boys glance at each other.
"Nah," the one says.
"No way, not allowed over there," says the other sarcastically.
I raise my eyebrows at their blatant lies.
Briggs leans in closer.
"What are you guys doing later?"
I lean forward conspiratorially. "No idea. What did you have in mind?"
"There's another pub around here that's..." He looks around, eyes shifting to the people mingling close to us.
"Filled with fewer prying eyes and listening ears," finishes his brother.
"We are IN with the TWINS!" Farra shouts, throwing her hands into finger guns at the boys, and I almost choke on my drink. "Hey, how old are you guys?" she spits out randomly.
"27" Briggs says, a little too quickly. Which has Mack smacking him and laughing.
"We are not, you dunce, we're 21." Giving his brother a look that says, what is wrong with you?
It doesn't matter though, because Farra is not paying attention, despite being the one to ask the question.
She's spotted Leo across the room and shrieks, running up and dragging him to the dance floor. Apparently, it takes exactly four drinks to turn my friend into a lunatic. Leo mouths a silent "Help" as Farra twirls around him in what can only be described as dance fighting.
I chuckle. "She may need to go to bed, but I'm up for a little adventure," I offer.
The boy's glance at each other.
"What?" I ask.
"Well, I don't know if you want to come. without your friends. It's kinda boring. We mostly gamble," Briggs says apologetically.
"Oh, well, it's your lucky day. I've been dying to play," I retort, patting my new friends on the back.