Rob Thurman's Blog Timeshare: Cheap & Filthy [Part 6]

Cal: "Time to get the hell out of here before I do shoot you," I grumbled, dropped the purple stained apron to the floor, and grabbed my jacket. "I'm going home, apologizing to my brother, doing my and his laundry both and then I'm not leaving the apartment for six months. If it's the only way to be sure I don't end up half dying and then waitressing for a hundred days when I recover, then that's what I'll do."

Was the Misha guy worried? Of course not, the bastard.

"I'll be fine," he dismissed. "Maybe I'll build a personal force field, one that repels bullets, out-of-control trucks, and collapsing buildings. Any project that keeps me away from building a particle accelerator makes Stefan happy. He has a phobia about black holes. He's such a technological baby." Misha was staring at the tattoo that circled my arm. "But maybe you should stop at a tattoo parlor and get that fixed first before you go home."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Why? It's Latin for Brothers-in-arms. Niko and I are real brothers, but we're brothers on the battlefield too, fighting monsters, facing death. Have all our lives."

"Ah. That makes sense. Very Butch and Sundance of you. I like Butch and Sundance. Partners to the end." He slung the strap of the messenger bag over his shoulder. "And I like Latin. A very sensible if dead language. And that is Latin on your tattoo, but it says Brothers in Each Other's Arms. I'm surprised your brother didn't mention that. You said he was smart. Maybe he didn't want to embarrass you. Did you know there was once a fighting unit called the Sacred Band of Thebes made up of only gay couples, so they would fight harder as to not shame their honor in front of their lovers? I saw it on the History Channel. It said…"

"Shut up! Shut up about the damn History Channel. It does not say Brothers in Each Other's Arms! I have not been walking around for year with Brothers in Each Other's Arms tattooed on me! Niko knows Latin. Goodfellow knows Latin. One of them would've said something."

Niko who locked me in here because I was annoying him to the point of psychosis. Goodfellow…Goodfellow who would've paid the tattoo guy just to get it wrong.

There was that Latin professor who had the office next to Niko's at NYU. He was always patting me on the ass. Niko said he was aiming for a friendly pat on my back, but was legally blind and I should be more understanding of the handicapable…

Those sons of bitches!

I looked at Misha. "How would you like to see an entire bar full of monsters? Werewolves, vampires, revenants, peri, succubi?"

He grinned, Frankenteen believed in Santa Claus again. "Can we stop for a camera first? I'll want more pictures than my Blackberry will hold. Oh, and what's it cost? The monster tour?"

He was a smart kid, because nothing in life is free and revenge is best served with a lab created genetic mutant. My grin was considerably darker, pure evil.

"Let's just see how much shrinking you can really do."

The End (of Niko and Robin?)