Twin Speex: Time Traitors Book II Read Free Page A

good thing about moving into a ‘proper brownstone,’ ” she said this with an exaggerated upper-class accent, “is that we got our own rooms.”
    Odell leaned back in his chair and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Are you really nostalgic for our old apartment, or is Charlie’s latest no-show finally getting to you?”
    He was speaking of Ettie’s most recent “boyfriend,” or whatever he was. Odell never really knew how to refer to the many men who vied for her affections. When it came to her amorous entanglements, he had learned early on to just stay out of the way. Ettie’s casual approach to relationships was several degrees removed from his own more sober and exclusive romantic habits. It didn’t help that their mother viewed Ettie’s behavior very unfavorably and often commented on the reversed stereotype of the twins’ sexual tendencies.
    “Really, if you were a man, Ettie, I could understand these shenanigans better,” she often admonished.
    Not that she in any way approved of Odell’s relative restraint. “When was the last time you went out?” was not an uncommon refrain. Often followed by, “Are you still pining for Emily?” Or Sophia, or Laura, or whatever other name Ivy could pull out of the blur of his past relationships.
    He shook his head ruefully. There had been no one of late, too much work and too little opportunity.
    But Ettie… well, this new guy was really doing a number on her. She wouldn’t admit it, of course. Ettie breezily dismissed Odell’s concerns. Charlie had twice before canceled a scheduled meet up with him, but Odell didn’t have to actually meet the guy to know he disliked him. A wealthy club owner—gees, he thought with disgust, could it get any sleazier than that?
    “Hey, Odell, are you listening to me?”
    Odell shook himself and looked at her with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Work stuff, you know.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really?” she said skeptically. “If that’s the case, I kind of agree with mom. You’re becoming entirely too monkish.”
    “What were you saying?” he asked, ignoring her comment.
    “It’s Ivy,” she replied.
    Odell deliberately kept his expression bland, but he began to feel some serious trepidation. Ettie only ever used their mother’s given name when she was truly upset or disturbed by something she had done.
    They often joked about Ivy’s ambitions, both social and professional. She was probably the oddest person Odell had ever encountered. Busy and driven, Ivy had spared little time for her children. However, the time she had given them was not without fun or affection. Never a physically demonstrative person, she was awkward with her feelings and laughed too loudly at jokes. But she did try to be a good mother—just not very hard.
    Odell believed her social ineptitude, some of which he had inherited, would have made her persona non grata with all her wealthy benefactors had she not also been a virtuoso dancer and brilliant artistic director. It was his personal experience that genius was forgiven much.
    He blew out his pent-up breath. “What’s up with mom then?”
    She looked at him, and instead of the anger or resentment he was expecting to see in her eyes, they reflected only concern and some alarm.
    “Something is very wrong, Odell. And I don’t mean her usual weirdness.” Ettie rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Baxter called to tell me she hasn’t been to the studio in several days.”
    “Baxter?”
    “Gees, Odell,” she replied angrily, “he’s her choreographer. You’ve probably met him half a dozen times.”
    “Right, right, I remember. He danced with the Royal Ballet. Okay. So, she’s been out—”
    “You’re the one who still lives at home,” she berated him, her anger mounting precipitously. “Don’t you even notice what she’s up to?” Just as abruptly, she relented. “Listen, I know you’re gone a lot, but it’s not just her missing some work. It’s where she has been and with