phone buzzed one last time.
Tell Finn .
Cam supposed that Finn would have to be the next on the list, since he was the only one whose calls Noah would return. Who knew what the twins were up to, since they always kept to themselves. Hell, Cam didn’t know what country Noah was in. Realizing that any hour was a gamble, Cam opted to shoot off some texts to his little brother. Finn contact Noah, who would get the details when he got around to picking up the phone, his usual M.O. in life.
Cam drifted off after that, sprawling out on his perfect white couch in his perfectly clean apartment, forgetting the two perfect strangers in the bed he’d just abandoned. All in all , he reflected, a normal day in my life .
Noah and Finn
Noah Beran was literally falling asleep standing up. His head hit his chest and he swayed on his feet, before snapping to attention once more. He blinked several times, rubbing grit from his face as he stared at the luggage passing on the conveyor belt.
Right. I’m still in Baggage Claim. In… Seattle? Shit, I hope I made it all the way to Seattle.
He gazed around, trying to see if the airport was familiar. They all kind of looked the same to him now, though. He’d been on a series of flights for almost a full day now, this time flying back from Tunisia.
Today was very much like the last hundred times he’d flown home from some far-flung destination, wherever some high-end newspaper or magazine paid him to go. As one of the top freelance photojournalists in the U.S., Noah was as much at home in airports as in his own ill-used Los Angeles apartment.
Pulling out his cell phone, Noah ignored the flood of texts, voicemails, emails, and tweets that awaited his attention. He’d been in Libya for almost a month this time, having crossed over from the Tunisian border. His battered leather briefcase held his laptop and notes, and he had a hell of an article forming. With the photos he’d captured of government-approved violence against student protestors, he was sitting on a serious story. He was also going to have to stay the hell out of Northeast Africa for a while, but that was a concern for another day.
He sent a single text. Home , was all it said.
Call me. 911 , came the response.
Noah was so tired that his first reaction was to stick his tongue out at his phone. He looked around, embarrassed, but since it was about three a.m. no one else was around to see his childish lapse. Clearing his throat, he realized that his two bags were the only ones left on the conveyor belt. Dragging them off, he tucked his phone in his pocket and made for the twenty four hour coffee stand near the airport’s entrance.
After fortifying himself with the biggest cup of black coffee the place sold, Noah finally made it to the long-term parking lot where his Land Rover waited. Once he and his bags were safely inside, he used the car’s computer to dial Finn’s number.
“Guess this means you’re alive?” came Finn’s voice after a couple of rings.
“Despite all my efforts to the contrary,” Noah affirmed.
“And to think, I paid those Libyans five g’s to take care of you.”
Though he was annoyed with Finn’s demand for a middle-of-the-night checkin, Noah softened a little at Finn’s sardonic humor. It was something they shared together, never flinching, never wondering whether the other was kidding. No one could read Noah like his twin brother, same for Finn.
“You’re an asshole, and I’m alive. Good enough?” Noah asked.
“Actually, I’m not looking for proof of life. I was calling to let you know that Pa has called some kind of family meeting for tomorrow.”
“At the Lodge?” Noah said, surprised.
“Yeah. I keep hearing the word mandatory thrown around,” Finn sighed.
“Mandatory, huh? Sounds serious.”
“Like, get kicked out of the clan serious.”
“No shit! Can’t believe Ma would let old Josiah say something like that,” Noah marveled.
“Yeah, well.