"Hey Brandon, I'm bringing back all the crap you left at my house... Brandon? Hey, B! Are you home?"
I was annoyed that I had to drive to my brother's house on my only day off for the week. It wasn't far from my apartment, but it just seemed unfair that I was still picking up after him after so many years.
Brandon was twenty-six, married, with a two-year-old kid. A shotgun wedding, his wife barely making it down the aisle before she went into labor. She was sweet, and their daughter was adorable, but Brandon was an eternal high-schooler. I saw the TV flickering through the window beside the kitchen, his weight room. I knocked on the glass.
"Hey, asshole, pause your fucking video game and open the door."
"Shit," I heard him hiss. "Just leave it in the garage, Jake. I'm busy."
"I'm not gonna leave it in the garage, it's a shithole out here already. Open the door."
"Fuck off."
Ever since he was sixteen and I was twelve, our dynamic had never changed. We would get along superficially for the benefit of our families, but we'd never really had any tangible relationship.
I grabbed the rotting rain boot from beside the water heater and shook out the spare key.
"B," I called from the kitchen, "I swear to god, if you leave one more thing at my apartmentβ"
"Fucking get out of here, Jake! Jesus!"
The door to the weight room was shut, and I could tell he was mad. Perfect time to mess with him. I stood by the door.
"What the hell is wrong with you? You fucking your girlfriend in there? I will tell Michelle this time, you know." Of course, as always, I had no intentions of doing so.
"Out, Jake."
I put my ear against the wood. Of course he didn't have a girl in there. No woman in her right mind would be able to even be slightly aroused with the stench in there. I opened the door.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" His face was red, and by the time I saw anything, he was halfway across the room and reaching for the DVD case on the TV stand.
"Holy shit, Brandon, whatβwait, man. I know this one!"
I did know it, very well. It featured Trevor, a currently popular star. I liked his videos because he had a laid-back surfer-guy kind of look, with wavy blond hair and a bone fish-hook necklace. My boyfriend liked his videos because he got me hard.
"Get. The. Fuck. Out." Brandon kept his back turned to me as he slapped the power button on the TV. "Now."
I sighed. "Calm down, man. I'm not gonna tell anybody. So you've got some gay porn, big fucking deal. You can stop giving me shit anytime now that I know, though." I had a feeling my brother would thing twice before calling Colin and me fags again.
"I'm sorry. Can you please leave now?" He still didn't turn around.
"Yeah, yeah, crybaby. Sorry I interrupted. You were just about to get to a good part, too. With the Asian guy. I won't ruin it." I walked out of the room, partly shocked, partly horrified, but mostly quite amused.
"Wait, Jake," Brandon said, as I was putting on my sunglasses. "Do you want to watch?"
Did I want to watch porn with my brother? I thought about it, and came up with the condition under which I would.
"Do you have any weed?" I had some in my car, but I felt like it was time to mooch off of him for once.
* * *
I was more focused on Trevor and the little glass hand pipe than I was on Brandon. It was only after my fifth hit that I heard a sharp sigh from him.