Fade To Midnight by Shannon McKenna Page A

northern outskirts of the Pearl District. His hand shook with gratitude as he stuck the key into the lock…until he smelled Bruno’s aftershave. Shit. He himself had taught Bruno to pick locks, back when Bruno was a delinquent teenager. Now, Bruno was a delinquent thirty-year-old, with skills more suitable for a career criminal. His own fault. He shouldn’t have taught the kid to pick locks.
    Bruno lay in wait, lounging on a stool and drinking coffee like he owned the place. The smell of frying bacon assaulted Kev’s olfactory nerve like a wrecking ball when he stepped in the door. So did the perfumed cream that fop had smeared over himself after he’d shaved. The stink was enough to knock a brain damaged guy right on his ass.
    Kev switched off the overhead, and pressed a switch that brought the shades over the high skylights. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œCame to see you eat breakfast,” Bruno said.
    Kev slowly took off the sunglasses. “Breakfast,” he echoed, in hollow tones. “Uh-uh.” He sank into a chair, rubbing the thigh that had gotten snapped in two places in the waterfall plunge.
    â€œPlayed cards tonight?” Bruno asked.
    His brother’s tone put him on the defensive. “And? So?”
    â€œWin anything?”
    â€œSome,” Kev admitted, reluctantly.
    â€œHow much?”
    Kev rubbed his eyes. “Don’t remember,” he said. “Dumped it on the way home. I don’t need it. That’s not why I play. You know that.”
    â€œYeah, I know that. Mr. Pure doesn’t need money. He floats above the grotty obsessions of us normal folk. That’s exactly the elitist, improvident thinking that’s always driven me nuts about you.”
    Kev rubbed his aching head, feeling the thick ropy scars on his scalp. “I told you. It’s not about the money. I do it for—”
    â€œYeah, you explained. I get it, insofar as a mere mortal could. You only cop a buzz when your brain is maxed to the limit counting cards. I’m not sure yet if that’s technically cheating or not, but it definitely classifies you as a fucking weirdo. Not that this is any surprise to me.”
    Kev snorted. “Quit it with the ‘mere mortals’ bullshit, Bruno. I’m brain damaged, OK? I do the best I can with what I’ve got to work with.”
    â€œThat’s negative thinking, dude,” Bruno said in a lecturing tone. “If you want to get your life back on track, you’ve got to—”
    â€œI am trying!” The force of the words drove a hot nail of pain through his head. He held his fragile eggshell skull together with his hands until he dared to breathe again. “Or trying to get a life, period,” he amended. “I’ve never been on anything resembling a track.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with your life?” Bruno demanded. “It was fine! So get back to it! You haven’t worked since the waterfall, and you’ve been capable for months now!”
    â€œYou’ve got plenty of designs to develop,” Kev pointed out. “When you run out, I’ll come up with more for you. Whenever you need it.”
    â€œI’m not talking about what I need!”
    Kev’s lips twitched. “So this is to keep me busy? You think my mathematical masturbation will make me go blind?”
    Bruno made an impatient gesture. “It’s a waste. You need to get out, get some sun, get laid. You made us a fortune with Lost Boys. Are you going to just throw it all away to—”
    â€œ You made the fortune,” Kev said, with quiet emphasis. “Go make the piles of money without me. I’ll be OK.”
    Bruno looked frustrated. “But what the fuck? You’re just sitting here in the dark, staring at your computer, obsessing about your past. Let it go! Start from where you are! Your life couldn’t have been that good, considering how fucked-up you were