MY CONSTELLATION LOVER

CHAPTER 56

Luke, Kyle and Lyle all sat outside on metal folding chairs that Kyle had found one day rummaging through an abandoned trailer. Each chair was a different color. Luke had a black one, Kyle sat on a tan one, and Lyle had a red one, all chairs, scratched and dented. "What are we gonna do about Gwen? We need to get her back," Luke reminded the twins, who were not speaking at the moment. Kyle started to tap his right foot, his boots scraping the driveway. Lyle was smoking his last cigarette, savoring the flavor. Luke got up then, and started to walk around, thinking. Sitting next to the twins was getting them nowhere fast, and he wanted a plan of action, now. He was not going back to jail, not again. Most of all, this whole damn thing was Ricky's fault for kidnapping Gwen in the first place, just to satisfy his obsession with that florist shop owner. Ridiculous. Ricky could have any damn girl he wanted, but he had to want the one that didn't want a freaking thing to do with him. Typical Ricky. What a prick.

Lyle finished his cigarette and flicked the butt to the ground, watching it go out. "Well, got any ideas in that skull of yours?" he asked a very silent Kyle. Kyle's foot continued to nervously tap and the sound was driving Lyle insane. "Stop banging that damn foot of yours and let's start a plan. We gotta think. Do ya'll know anything at all about her? Where the bitch lives?" When Kyle said nothing, Lyle took it as a "no." Luke walked back then, hands in his pockets. "Ya'll I been thinking and maybe we can go by her house and just kidnap her again." He waited for the twins to give a response, but both just stared up at him. "We don't know where the bitch lives," Lyle retorted. Only Ricky does. "So, let's go ask Ricky, then," Luke replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Fuck Ricky," Kyle said. Lyle turned to his brother. "So, you do know how to speak." "Fuck you, Lyle," Kyle spit on the ground. Lyle laughed. "So damn sensitive. What in the hell crawled up your ass?" Kyle jumped off his seat, knocking the chair over. "Ya'll left me in that bar, Lyle. I am your damn twin, and ya'll just left my ass there. How can ya do it to me? I thought we was tight, but ya'll ain't nothing but another Ricky." Kyle stormed away, slamming into the front door of the trailer. Lyle just blew a breath out, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back, feeling the sun on his face. Luke watched him closely. "So, let's go see Ricky in jail and git her damn address. If we go now, we can --" Lyle raised his fist in the air making the "shut up" signal. Luke crossed his arms over his chest. You're such a dickhead, Lyle. Lyle stood up. "It's too late fer that shit, Luke. I am surprised that the cops ain't even here yet to pick us up. We don't know where the fuck she lives, and maybe she is still high and is sleeping it off in a park or some shit. How can we find her with only damn vehicle?" He left a speechless Luke alone and went back inside the trailer.

Kyle was on the recliner fixing the rabbit ears. He managed to get the fishing channel, and watched two boats going after a school of tuna. Lyle stood right next to his chair and leaned in. "I ain't nothing like Ricky, and don't ya'll ever compare me to that prick! I told ya, I tried to go after your ass but we got separated. I wound up by the employee door, stepped outside, and was in the alley. I had no damn way to git my ass back inside, and to find yours." He sat on the ugly orange couch then, waiting for his twin to say something. Kyle remained quiet for a few minutes thinking over what Lyle just told him. Maybe he didn't leave me to hang after all. I may be wrong about all this shit. "All right, let's just ferget the whole damn thing," Kyle said to him, his southern drawl coming out because he was tired and pissed. "Now what are we doing about the Gwen problem? I ain't gonna go back to prison just because of Ricky." Lyle leaned back. "I say we git the hell out of town and we go now. Let's just get in Luke's truck and go." Kyle snorted then. "Yeah, well what about money? Huh? Unless ya'll got a magic genie in a damn lamp or can shit out bills, we can't go anywhere." Lyle laughed. "Oh, we got ourselves money, Kyle. Follow me."

The twins walked inside Ricky's room and into his closet. The crates of street drugs and bags of pills were just waiting to be sold. They cleaned out his closet, dragging the drugs into the living room. "I say we just sell this shit and get the money," Lyle told his twin, staring down at all the Liquid GoldXXR and bags of pills. "We can make us a small fortune, and git us a place in another city or town." Kyle was busy looking through the crates, lifting up things to check for any hidden money, but he didn't find any.

Luke walked in then and watched his brothers going through Ricky's stash. His eyes got wide. "Ricky ain't gonna like you two doing that. Better put his shit back," but Lyle just mimicked him in a mocking tone, "Better put his shit back," go sit yer ass down, ya'll little whiny girl. I got to git us some quick money so we can get the fuck outta here." Luke sat down hard on the broken cocktail table, shaking his head and watching the twins plan to sell Ricky's drugs. Luke was not going to a part of this at all. It screamed too much danger and he was trying to go clean. Besides, he had a plan of his own, he was going to start a Bigfoot research team and try to look for the monster on his days off from working at the gas station. He couldn't do that, if he was in prison or dead. Let the twins get in trouble, he didn't care.

Kyle's phone went off and he walked outside to answer it, while Lyle counted the vials and the pills, making a mental checklist of how much he was going to charge, and who to call about this. Ricky had a list of names in his phone, which couldn't help him now since the phone was locked up at the police station, but he always kept a handwritten list of names, too. Lyle just had to find that list. He walked into Ricky's room and started turning dresser drawers upside down, clothing strewn everywhere. He moved the bed, mattress, and only found a few nudie magazines under the mattress. Next, he went banging on walls or loose floorboards, and was about to give up when he eyed an old coffee can that was behind a broken lamp on top of the dresser. He grabbed the coffee can and just dumped it on the floor. Change fell out, a pair of tweezers, and then a folded up note. He reached down and snatched the note up in his hands, unfolding it. Names of his customers, their addresses, email addresses and cell phones were written in Ricky's neat handwriting. Feeling triumphant, he stuck the note in his pants pocket, and walked over heaps of clothing, stepping on a blanket, and left every single thing he turned over or pulled out of the closet on the floor. Ricky's room looked like a tornado ran through it a few times.

Kyle came back in with a grin on his face. "Gonna git us a new car boys," he told both brothers. "That was Skinny Jimmy. He's got one fer us and he wants some pills in return. He will be here in about an hour, so let's get this show ready."