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You listen as Pearce finally reaches the end of the story. It feels like he’s been talking forever and as you look around, you seem to be the only person not eating up his bullshit. Lucky you.
“Then I showed him just how earlier Christmas had come and said, ‘We ain’t gonna be hungry no more, cuz’,” Pearce lifts the bottom of his shirt to show where he hid the money. His hiding place gave new meaning to dirty bills. “Did I lie, bruh?” He asks Brian, smiling so brightly he looks like an ad for tooth whitening strips.
Though Pearce has been running his mouth non-stop, he still has not fessed up to just how much money he and O’Conner manage to fast-hand before the pigs did their final count. Whatever it is, you doubt he has any left at this point.
Even though O’Conner had been there, he’s still laughing just as hard as everyone else. “Can’t say you did,” he says, also looking proud, “We ate good that night and the one after that, and so.” You notice how Dom’s raised eyebrow casts a demand for more information, and O’Conner just smiles like it’s the greatest story in the world and one that he’ll gladly tell Dom fully unedited.
So now, but really always, you have this itch to just go step between them and separate them. Just because, really. It feels safer, like, for everyone, the city, and you and your sanity if you can keep them from getting any closer.
Even after a clutch of years and a continent between the two of you, you still can’t bring yourself to actually like O’Conner and you’ll never like seeing him so close to Dom, trying to occupy a space that was once yours and the places you could never quite reach. The way O’Conner flits between Dom and Mia like a blond firefly is the tip of iceberg of reasons why.
Everyone’s still laughing as Pearce riffs back and forth with Tej about his pad in Miami which sounds like a busted houseboat instead of the luxurious floating palace—who says shit like that—that Pearce claims. But again, you’re only half-listening, and then you’re completely taken out of the conversation as you watch O’Conner. It’s like watching a dog flinch and snap to heel when a silent whistle is blown.
He looks up sudden and sharply as if he’s looking for the sound and then turns to face the long corridor they’ve set up for the camera tests. Dom notices Blondie’s sudden aboutface, because it’s pretty weird and joins him at his shoulder. “What is it?”
O’Conner doesn’t answer, which, excuse him, is rude. He does, however, walk away from Dom to stand just outside of the shadow of the ramp and curve and whips his glock from the back of his pants and stands to wait.
Now, this has everyone’s attention and everything goes silent, for the most part.
Dom takes a step towards O’Conner when Pearce calls out, “Bri, Bri,”stops short when O’Conner turns a flat blue icy stare on him and then sighs, “ oh, shit,” like the worst thing imaginable is about to happen.
“What’s happening?” Dom shouts at Pearce, who just shakes his head.
“Yeah, don’t go quiet now,” you add sarcastically and have your hand hovering over your weapon on the table. “And don’t skimp on the deets either.”
He doesn’t move to pick up a weapon, just crosses his arms over his chest and lets an expression of resignation settle over his face. “Nah…it’s going to be bad, but,” he pauses with consideration and shakes his head low again, “oh, yeah, it’s going to be bad. Just wait.” Now they can hear the sound of an engine whirring coming their way.
The leggy brunette, Giselle, has a big gun in her hands. It’s big in that old school Dirty Harry way and if this were a few years ago, you would’ve totally stepped up to her and asked if you could make her day. Now you’ve got Rosa and Nico, and you love that woman like no other and prepare yourself for a tongue lashing and a possible asskicking because as you found out pretty early, she just knows things. And she’ll know as soon as she sees you that your mind took a turn off the straight and narrow over Ms. Israeli Commando. You figure it wise to not stare too long and look away; Han’ll be glad you did.
When Mia tries to get to O’Conner, Dom stops her with a cautionary grip on his wrist. “Wait,” he says, and Mia does so very reluctantly.
Thumbing the safety off the glock reverbs in the warehouse just as clearly as the vehicle rounding the corner. It smoothly glides to halt so close to O’Conner that the gleaming steel grill almost licks his t-shirt. It’s a nice Mercedes G550, which will always be out of place when parked in any hood rather than cruising the tall grasses of a savannah or jungle, hunting things that will enjoy killing you. The molding doesn’t have that weird European painted on carbon affect either, which is good; it’s just no nonsense black and on that silver paint, looks absolutely sick.
Whoever’s behind the wheel has some style, you’ll admit.
Then the engine dies and begins to tick and ping as it settles into rest. Each noise ratchets up the tension and feels too much like they’re waiting for a bomb to go off.
The driver side door opens and it all explodes.
Tej begins, “What--”
“The--” Han continues.
“Fuck!” You drop from your mouth, and God help you, this must be what taking bad shrooms is like. Because tripping balls is the only logical explanation for why you’re seeing two Brian ‘Don’t Call Me A Cop’ O’Conners.
Tego can’t believe it either. He pinches the ever-loving hell out of Rico, who swears a blue streak in Spanish and apologies without taking his eyes off the near square dance between the two O’Conners. “Lo siento pero…puta madre, hay los dos de ellos.” He shoots Rome an astonished look. “¿Sabías esto?”
Rico translates, just as caught up by what he’s seeing as the rest. “You knew about this?” He directs at Pearce.
Glaring, Pearce scowls before answering, “What the hell you think?” Pearce loses volume control, “of course I did. Grew up with ‘em. We were like Boys to Men but called ourselves ‘Oreo Cookie’.” The room collectively looks from the approaching showdown to Pearce, all wondering why neither has dropped a little fyi or spot-check s them by saying that, well, O’Conner has a secret fucking identical twin who may just pop up when they’re in the middle of plotting to steal a century million from the biggest narcotraficante around.
The double or evil clone-- the jury is still out—slides his dark shades from his face and settles them into the open neck of his button-up shirt. When the guy turns those crazy blue eyes on O’Conner (aren’t they both O’Conner), you expect to see sparks shoot into the air.
“Hello, Brother,” the double says and they all take a breath. He sounds just like O’Conner, except happier, you guess. “Hey, Rome,” he greets, a second later.
“Sup, John,” Rome manages, though his scowl is gradually thawing into a hesitant smile.
So John looks just like O’Conner, except a few pounds heavier and more polished. Like you’ll admit O’Conner is a ten even now, though he’s looking sorta raggedy and busted like he’s had too little sleep and not enough food without caffeine in it, but John? That pretty fucker is a fifteen. He’s standing in front of his brother dolled up for a GQ spread---pants too crisp down the center and fluid at the hip to be store bought and his shirt has shiny looking buttons and distinct arrow straight cuffs and collar. You feel grubby just by looking at him.
You swear you hear someone swoon when he smiles at his brother. That is one beautiful dude and you’re totally okay with acknowledging that. Rosa would be proud.
“John,” Brian says so tensely, you wonder if you’ll need to hold him back from committing some Cain versus Abel style violence. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s been too long, brother. And I figured we’re too overdue for a talk.” Now he sounds different. Something in his tone edges harder and colder than Brian’s ever has. You know everyone in this room is capable of doing terrible things, like super violent, belongs in a videogame things. John, though, sounds like he could easily move beyond doing to positively enjoying those kinds of things.
You get a chill. It’s an honest one.
“Now is not the time,” Brian warns, all steel and no give in his voice. “You should go.”
John rounds the right fender to stand within arms distance of his brother. “I think it is,” John insists with a smile in his voice. “You broke the rules and we’re gonna have to deal with that.” This close together and they look like two images before and after a series of good and bad decisions. Which, fair enough, is all true. “We have rules for a reasons, B, and you.don’t.break.them.”
Brian doesn’t ask John how he finds him. They completely skim over that open vein. But Brian does look less resolute than before. Some of that righteous anger has flowed out of his spine, yet his gun hasn’t gone away. “I did what I had to,” Brian levels his chin and silently dares his brother to challenge him.
John looks around him to take in the crew. The look he gives Mia is long and assessing, ultimately pleased with what he finds. Then he gets to Dom and the look becomes so tangible that Brian steps in front of him and you can’t quite narrow down whether you should be angry or scared for Dom’s virtue.
John smirks too brightly now and far too pleased. “Of course you did. Some things never change, I guess, no matter how much they should.” Then John sounds and looks disappointed and you feel like you should clutch a puppy or something. “You shoulda called me…But I’m here now and you’re being rude, bro.”
O’Conner—Brian taps his gun against his thigh as he weighs a heavy decision. When he stops, he tips the mouth upwards and doesn’t blink when he asks, “Did you come in hot?”
John laughs sharp and loudly, too deeply for a casual comment. It must be one of those twin things or my brother may actually try to kill me and I totally expected it things.
He throws his arms around Brian, drawing in him for a hug, which goes on until Brian finally responds and clutches his brother back.
When John pulls back with a disarming grin on his face. “As for hot? I’m only what you’ve made me.” It’s a weird answer and you take a step back like you need a bit of fresh air. “The real question is what you’ll do with me now that you have me—here, that is.”
“I’ll think of something,” Brian mutters.
“So, are you going to introduce me to your fam or what?”
Brian’s answer comes in the form of him slipping his gun behind his back and leaning on the front cage beside his brother. The little differences that you note earlier seem minor in comparison to how alike they are; they even sprawl the same, breathe the same.
“Everybody,” Brian says scratching the back of his neck and trying to appear distracted, “this is John. My brother.” Well, duh. Then he starts the introductions for real. “That’s Han, Tego, Rico, Vince, and--”.
He goes through everyone without problems until he gets to Dom. Mia gets a slightly different intro and it’s a good thing Dom’s still got a hold of her wrist, because you’re pretty sure she wants to reach out to pet them like a pair of Siamese cats. They turn identical fond looks on her and you’re sure the feeling is mutual.
“This is Dom.” From the look on John’s face, he seems to know all about Dom and then some.
He’s still cool and friendly, more restrained as he waves, “Sup,” and bumps his shoulder with Brian’s while wearing a smile that could ignite jet fuel. Brian’s steely eyes and sudden onset of blush promise fire too. Mostly his brother being set on fire if he doesn’t shut the hell up.
Dom’s rocking this look that shifts between disappointment and utter fascination. Brian’s in for it big time. As Dom continues to be a study in emotion, Vince watches Brian silently lose his shit in the calmest way possible. It is so weird and John looks almost the same empathizing with his bro’s distress. Nothing changes overtly, just the look in their eyes.
Then it’s back to awkward silence, more staring, and crickets in the middle of the afternoon. Way to kill the mood, O’Conners.
John breaks the ice. “Since I’m imposing, I brought a few gifts.” These gifts turn out to be a few caseloads of beer, really good shit that dudes who look like GQ and department store ads would drink.
It’s a good peace offering.
Things almost return to normal when Rome heads over and throws his arms around John and then the pair of them a second later. He crows triumphantly, “Little Ro and the Oreos are back together again, ladies and gentlemen! Back like coke bottle glasses and flat-top haircuts. We back, baby, yeah!”
Brian playfully punches Rome’s left shoulder and John gets the right one. Pearce looks like he just came home after a really long time.
Mia’s slips Dom’s grip and makes her way over to join in meeting the other O’Conner, Rico and Tego following her, too. The only ones hanging back besides you are Giselle, Han, and Dom.
“Yes,” Giselle decides and says so like she’s answering a question that no one’s asked but has a definite stance on. Han looks at her sideways. She doesn’t turn towards him, but narrows her eyes at the double whammy ahead. Again, she says, “Yes,” with a slow head nod being thrown in the mix.
Han still looks confused. “Yes to what?”
“Everything,” she remarks casually. You have a feeling that the everything she’s thinking about may include a two for one special of some kind, and she ain’t plannin’ on having Fat Burger. Oh, brother. Han will be on her heels when their turn comes to join the receiving party.
You look to Dom who hasn’t left his spot by the table. He and Brian are having one of those silent conversations again but it’s loud enough that you can pick it up bright and clear like an AM radio band. They’ll be alright, Dom’s little smile promises and Brian shrugs in a what can you do about family way, and they’ll be settled again.
The last five minutes have been bonkers on your emotions. So many great things in life come in twos: socks, shoes, eyes, boobs (yes!), brake pads, and rotors. El Hombre upstairs must have had a good laugh at this one.
Because, really, just one Brian O’Conner is bad enough.
But two of him?
You’ll gladly listen to one of Pearce’s bullshit stories any day rather than be on the halogen bright radar of the O’Conner twins or attempt to wrap your mind around the triangle, or is it a circle, between Dom and Brian, and sometimes Mia. And let’s not think about the weird-twinness that’s suddenly popped up. You just won’t go there.
Twins, man.
You didn’t see this one coming.