Silas
and Titus are twins. They both work as prep chefs in two different
restaurants. From time to time, their bosses send them to visit the
competition. Tonight, it's Silas' turn and he asks his brother's
girlfriend for help deciding what to wear.
Silas
wandered out of his room. He was wearing a dress shirt and pants,
holding two ties.
“Help.
Which?” he appealed to Amita.
His
shirt was a medium lavender, his pants gray. One tie was mauve, gray,
gold and mocha colored stripes. The other was pale gold with pink,
gold and purple paisleys on it. Amita held up each against the shirt,
considering.
“That
one,” Titus said, tapping the paisleys.
“Amita?”
“He's
right.”
“One
thing you'll learn about my brother, he's very decisive,” Silas
said. “Me, I waffle around and can't decide shit. Titus weighs the
options, and has a decision in thirty seconds or less. And he's
rarely wrong, which is really annoying. I can work thirty minutes and
get the same decision he made. If he was wrong, I could at least tell
him my way is better.” His hands had been busy with his tie. When
he was done, it wasn't a standard Windsor, but an fancy, woven knot.
“It's
called the Trinity. Like that?”
“Very
much.” She touched the knot. “Looks good. You have a jacket?”
“Yeah.”
He brought it out, holding two pocket squares.
Amita
studied them, too. Silas knew his brother had an opinion, but was
waiting for Amita.
“This
one,” she pointed to one that picked up the blue of his eyes and
the lavender of his shirt. It was scattered with tiny flowers. The
other was bold polka dots.
“Good
choice,” Titus said. “But that was easy, cause the dots are just
butt ass ugly.”
“It
was a gift,” Silas said as if that absolved him of poor taste.
“From
who?”
“You.
My birthday three years ago.”
“Had
to have been a gag gift. I'd never buy something like that, unless it
was a joke.”
Silas
balled it up, throwing it at his brother. Titus caught it and put it
in his back pocket.
“I'll
use it to wipe my ass later.”
“I
need to borrow shoes,” Silas said, wandering into Titus' room.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Go
ahead. Love how you ask.”
“Um,
you borrowed my red shirt the other day,” his voice was muffled by
distance.
“No,
I took back my red shirt that you decided was yours.”
“No
way! That shirt's mine.”
“I
wrote my name in it.”
“After
you took it.”
“When
I bought it! Mrs. Hooper always did that. It seemed like a good
idea.”
“How
do I look?” Silas posed in front of Amita, preening like a peacock.
“Good
enough to eat,” she murmured.
“Hm?”
“Good
enough to go eat—at a nice restaurant. What's Paulson's?”
“New
high end steak house.”
“Why
do you need to know about steaks?”
“It's
supposedly an Italian grill.”
“If
it's Italian, why Paulson's?”
“The
owner is Paul and it's like Paul and Sons. Or some such shit. His
last name is really something hard to pronounce.”
“And
Italian?” Titus asked.
“One
would assume.”
“You
don't look bad. Wallet. Keys. Cash from the boss. Phone. Condoms,”
Titus listed rapily.
“All
of the above—except condoms. Really? This isn't a social call,”
Silas griped.
“One
can never be too prepared,” Titus said. He pulled one from his
pocket and tucked it behind the pocket square.
Silas
glared at him and left. Titus shut the door behind his brother with a
grin.
“You
notice, he took it with him.”
“Let
me guess, you're the Evil Twin everyone warned me about?”
“Only
if you want me to be. I do, however, want to be the Lucky Twin who
takes you back to bed.”
“I'd
like that.”
©
2018 Dellani Oakes
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