Chapter 9
The next morning, Brendan got up early, as he did every morning,
to go to Sonny’s house and bring Brian his “breakfast”, which consisted of a
dry piece of toast. It wasn’t much, but
it was enough to keep him alive, which was all Brendan was concerned about right
then. He wasn’t sure exactly what he
was going to do with Brian, but killing him was not part of the plan. Not yet, at least.
Brendan shoved the toast into a sandwich baggy and crammed it into
his jacket pocket. He grabbed his keys
from the kitchen counter and started for the back door.
“Where are you going, hon?” Leighanne asked, coming into the
kitchen.
Brendan whirled around, startled.
“Oh… uh… I thought I would pick us up some donuts for breakfast. Does that sound good?”
“Sure, babe. That sounds
great,” Leighanne replied. “I have an
appointment at the salon in a little bit, but I’ll eat when I get home.”
“Okay,” Brendan said. “See
you in a little while then.” He gave
his “wife” a quick smile and hurried out the door, relieved. With Leighanne leaving in a few minutes for
her haircut or manicure or whatever she was getting done, he would have plenty
of time to head to pay Brian a little visit and be home before Leighanne was.
He made the decision to stop by Dunkin’ Donuts on his way out of
town so that he wouldn’t forget later and show up at home empty-handed. That wouldn’t be too good.
He picked up a dozen donuts and then headed out of Atlanta and
towards Sonny’s home outside of town.
When he got there, he didn’t park in the driveway, but instead drove
around into the backyard to hide his car.
Not that anyone would actually drive down the road outside Sonny’s house
and see his car there, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
Brendan walked through the shabby backyard to the wooden back
porch of Sonny’s house, which sagged precariously in the middle. He climbed the three creaking stairs to the
porch and hurried across it to the screen door that led inside Sonny’s house.
He found Sonny sacked out on the couch, sound asleep, an open bag
of pork rinds lying on his fat stomach and a couple beer cans sitting on the
coffee table beside him. Brendan rolled
his eyes in disgust and headed down to the basement.
Brian was lying asleep on the bed.
Brendan snickered evilly and crept up to the bed. He bent over Brian’s sleeping form, and,
bringing his mouth right up to Brian’s right ear, shouted, “FIRE!!!”
Brian jerked awake and immediately began to struggle, but of
course, he was securely tied down and unable to move much. He
caught sight of Brendan at his side, laughing hysterically, and realized what
was going on. The panic within him died
down and was replaced with anger and humiliation.
“Oh, that was too good,” Brendan laughed, slapping his knee. “God, Littrell, you crack me up, you know
that?”
Brian just glared up at him.
Brendan smirked back for a moment, then reached down and yanked the
strip of duct tape off of Brian’s mouth, leaving Brian’s cheeks and lips
stinging.
Brendan took off his jacket and tossed it onto the coffee
table. “Here’s your breakfast,” Brendan
said, pulling the toast out of the pocket of the jacket and taking it out of
the baggy. He held it up to Brian’s lips,
and Brian eagerly took a bite. He
finished off the dry bread in just a few bites and immediately was overcome
with thirst.
“Can I have some water now?” he asked hopefully, his voice weak
and hoarse from disuse.
“Uh… let me think… NO,” Brendan replied, breaking into another
bout of taunting laughter.
Brian stared up at him with miserable, pleading eyes. But Brendan ignored him and glanced at his
watch instead.
“Well, looks like I have some time to kill before I have to get
home. Leighanne’s at the beauty shop and
won’t be back for a little while,” Brendan said.
Brian perked up at the mention of his wife. And then he was overcome with despair. What had Brendan been doing with Leighanne
these past two weeks? And how could his
own wife go so long not realizing that the man she was sleeping with was not
really her husband? They were
identical, and Brendan did put on a pretty good act, but it hurt Brian that
Leighanne couldn’t tell the difference.
“Oh, and did I mention I have a video shoot with the Boys
next week?” Brendan went on, grinning smugly at Brian, obviously pleased at the
misery he was causing in his twin brother.
“Yup, we’re shooting the video for the next single, ‘More Than
That’. What the hell were y’all thinking
when you picked that one? Oh well, I
guess none of your other songs are any better.
But it’ll be pretty fun, I guess.
You know, shooting my first video as you and all. You think the fans will notice?” He snickered, obviously thinking that they
wouldn’t.
“Ahh, I tell ya, Littrell, I’m enjoying every minute of this so
far. Well, almost. There’s some things that suck. Like your… I mean, our damn
mother. She called last night, and God,
she’s annoying!” He rolled his
eyes. “’Is everything all right,
honey?’” he mimicked. “God! Why do you have to be such a little pussy mama’s
boy?”
Brian stared in horror at Brendan. He had talked to their mom? And she too had believed she was talking to
Brian? His depression was getting worse
with each passing second, as he realized Brendan’s plan was working. If not even his own wife or mother could
tell the difference, who would?
It was hopeless.
***
