Page 23 of Five

Rague starts the truck just as Uri opens the back door and slides in next to me. He waves a hand holding my cell phone and Lori’s in the air. “Go!”

My brother doesn’t make him say it twice and quickly drives us out of there.

“Everything went smooth?” Rague asks him.

“Bailey is gone. Heard the manager talking about it on the phone. I incapacitated the bouncer to get to the phones, but Thelma and Louise didn’t have their fun tonight.” Uri pats his jacket pockets, grumbling unhappily about not using his girls—his guns.

Your brothers are idiots. Bez once again lets me know how much he dislikes my family.

Ollie’s eyes keep checking on Lori through the rearview mirror. He’s sleeping, his heart beating steadily under my hand. His slow breath feels warm against my white shirt-clad chest.

“I shouldn’t have let him go inside the club!” Ollie suddenly hisses.

“Like you can stop Gremlin from doing anything,” Uri snorts.

“Kitty, you tried. Lori is too stubborn to listen to anyone.” Rague’s large hand falls on his husband’s much smaller one and starts caressing it.

“Then we should have gotten inside sooner! I can’t believe we stopped to get you coffee, you dick!” Ollie turns to Uri.

My sociopathic brother shrugs. “Gremlin knew the score when he decided to enter the club. He was lucky Gabe helped him. Any of those shitheads could have had their turn with him.”

“Fuck!” Ollie cries.

“Shut the fuck up, Uri!” Rague growls.

Isn’t Ollie supposed to keep Rague calm?Bez sniffs.

“You know I’m right,” Uri insists.

“Shut up!” Bez decides to interject. “You’ll wake him up. And he needs sleep.”

There’s a moment of silence before a slow smirk appears on Uri’s face. “Oh, hello, Bezaliel. It’s been a while.”

Bez pulls back again. He rarely communicates with my foster family since he doesn’t think much of them.

“Who’s Bezaliel?” Ollie’s watery voice sounds confused. “And why do you sound different?” he asks me.

Rague sends me a look through the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

I turn toward the window, not wanting to get into my multiplicity condition at the moment. Lori chooses that moment to shift in my lap, snuggling closer to me. I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.

“Bez is Gabe’s other personality,” Rague tries to clarify. It makes me sigh.

“His other what?” Ollie looks puzzled, and that’s why I don’t divulge the fact that I have an alter to people. Because I have to defend myself against a multitude of dull and incredibly personal questions. Not that I usually advertise Bez in any way.

“Gabe has anothertenantliving inside his head,” Uri adds. He’s always seen my multiplicity like a game—Rami as well. When we were kids, they used to take every opportunity to make me feel in danger to trigger the switch between me and Bez and make him come out. After years of therapy, my condition improved, and nowadays, we co-front with Bez mostly in the background. A few inner comments and a couple of quickies a month are all he needs…until recently.

I have a feeling I’m going to come out and play more in the future, Bez lets me know as my eyes fall on the head of messy, brown curls against my suit vest. My cock perks up following Bez’s line of filthy thoughts. What does that mean?

Ollie is staring at me with a dumbfounded look. His mouth keeps opening and closing like he’s not sure what to ask next. Then heunfortunately finds the words. “Are you a schizophrenic? Like that guy in that movie with the little girl inside of him?”

“Symptoms of Schizophrenia are delusion, hallucinations, disorganized speech, and trouble with thinking, not split personalities,” Uri intervenes with a bored tone. “Most movies get it wrong.”

“I’ll explain it to you later, Kitty,” Rague says. I’m not surprised my brother never told him. I don’t like people to know. It bores me when they start treating me differently because of my multiplicity.

“Okay. Yeah. Sorry. Let’s focus on what happened. What did he go through inside that club, Gabe?” Ollie stares right at me, looking tense.

“I suspect they slipped the drug into our champagne flutes,” I say.