Multiples of Six Read Free

judge was that the man was about his height with a cap on and smelled a bit like a wet dog. He shivered.
    “Are you alone?” the man asked.
    “No.”
    “Who?”
    “My girl is upstairs, sleeping.”
    “Why didn’t you lie?”
    “What good would that do me now? Besides, you would have killed me if that’s what you came to do.”
    “I still could.”
    “I know,” James said, and his head turned ever so slightly.
    “Don’t! Not yet…don’t turn yet.”
     “Ok, I won’t!” James said, waving his hands.
    “Tell me your name again. I need to hear you say it.”
    “My name is James Devon Masterson.”
    “And, you’re twenty-four years old.”
    “And, I’m twenty-four years old.”
    “And, you were born on February eleventh, nineteen eighty-two.”
    “And, I was born on February twelfth, nineteen eighty-two.”
    “Now listen to me and try for a moment to understand why I feel the need to keep this gun on you.”
    “Ok.”
    “My name is Kevin Powers and I was sent here by a man…a doctor who told me I would find…someone. A member of my family. I’m twenty-four years old as well and born in February of eighty-two. Now turn around.”
    James turned around and looked into the darkness that was the face shadowed beneath the cap. The man was his height, maybe a few pounds less, with a familiar roll to his shoulders. His eyes adjusted and it was like looking in a funhouse mirror. There was his nose, his high cheekbones, the narrow chin, thin lips, only this face was covered in a thin mustache and goatee. He held a short metal tube in his hand, tucking it into his jacket apologetically. The man removed his cap, and James’ head swam. The sinking feeling shot through his stomach to his knees and he reached for the porch railing. Kevin leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it a little, as if to make sure that James was real.
    “You see why I freaked out a bit? I came looking for a family member, maybe a long lost cousin. But…not you…not this…not like this.”
     “I…you…” James managed.
    “Exactly,” Kevin said, “Fucked up.”
    “Why the gun trick,” James said, pointing to where Kevin had tucked away the tube.
    “Oh…yeah…my bad…”
    “My bad?” James asked.
    “I--,” Kevin began.
    The storm door flew open and, before either one of them could react, a jumble-haired brunette had swung the biggest caste iron frying pan Kevin had ever seen at his head. He didn’t react in time and the blow landed with a resounding “Gong!” square on his right temple. Kevin crumpled to the porch floor in a heap.
    “Nicole! No!” James shouted too late.
    “He had a gun! I heard you two talking. He said he could kill you.”
    “It wasn’t a gun…he was lying!”
    “I…oh, James…”
    “Jesus, Nic…”
    “Oh my God…did I kill him?”
    “I hope not. I think he’s my brother.”

 
    Chapter 3
    The hotel room was cramped, but he’d lived in worse. For twenty-four years he had moved from room to room, never staying in one spot for more than two months at a time. The coat he wore was the same one he bought new in the winter of ’83. It had been tan at the time; it was now a mottled gray. It was never far from him and most nights he slept with it on, just in case. If his old pair of shoes hadn’t actually fallen off of his feet at one point, he might still be wearing those too. Instead, he’d been humiliated into diving into one of those clothing drop-offs in a desperate attempt at finding his size. His first attempt landed him a pair of Nike high tops, which looked just slightly ridiculous on a man wearing slacks, a sport coat, and a trench. It had garnered him a few wary looks from mothers with small children. But, after twenty-four years on the run, he’d gotten over his humiliations. After twenty-four years, Dr. Fred Taylor was too tired to care. He was done with the running. That was why he had sent his letters. That was why he threatened to do what he was doing.