Juice was sitting on the edge of the made up bed and looked around. This was his room, for now. He even had his private bathroom. None of it really landed. He was free, but it didn't feel that way. It felt like a cop could barge through the door any moment, telling him all this was a misunderstanding. He barely dared to go to the living room. What should he say to his brother? The man hadn't even wanted to tell him his real name. Despite the fact that the man had invited him into his house, assuring him that he would be safe, there was a restless feeling in his chest. He still didn't understand why Shades had done this for him. He seemed to have his stuff well in order, so why would he allow his messed up twin into his perfect life? He couldn't shake off the idea that the man was keeping something from him, although he had no idea what. Maybe it was just because of everything he'd been through. He had learned not to count on anybody — not even on himself. Trusting someone again was difficult, it was hard to push away his suspicion. 

Juice however realized he couldn't sit here forever. He had to face his brother, to get to know him, to figure out how he could build a new life from here. And so, after taking a long, hot shower, he returned to the living room. 

Shades was standing in front of the glass wall watching the city surrounding them, his back towards Juice. Juice wasn't sure whether his brother had heard him come in. Nervously, he ran a hand across his mohawk. 

"You uh — you got a nice place," he said awkwardly. 

Shades turned around, lifting the corner of his mouth. "I've worked hard for my money."

Juice was about to ask him how, but since Isaiah had called him a gangster, he didn't want to create the impression that he wanted to meddle in his shady activities. 

"In what kind of house did you live?"

Hesitating, Juice sat down on the grey couch. All furniture looked new, and as if Shades replaced them once in while just because he had the money. "A two-room apartment. On the third floor. There weren't much high buildings in Charming." He paused, then he added: "In our clubhouse I had a room too. I spent more time there than in my actual home."

At least before he ran off. He doubted Shades cared about anything he said, but filling the room with meaningless words was still better than a nerve-racking silence. 

"How long can I stay here?" he asked quietly. He didn't want to be a burden to his brother.  It however was hard to figure out what steps to take. Would he be able to find a job? What kind of job would that be, with his criminal record and lack of references? 

"As long as you need," Shades answered. "Don't worry about the money. I will be often away from home to do business, so it's not like we will be in each other's pockets all the time. Just take the time to recover from everything you've been through. All this time I told myself it would take a while anyway."

Recover from everything you've been through... He had no idea where to begin. How did one deal with a series of rapes, with the hatred of the people you've loved the most, with the loss of everything that had once been important to you?

He didn't know. He really didn't know. 

"Come on, let's get a bite to eat. Thereafter I will show you Harlem's Paradise. I bought it a while ago."

Juice nodded hesitantly and got up. His brother was nice, there was no denying that. He did his best; for him, the whole situation had to be strange too. A small smile crept upon his lips. His brother had done all right to himself... maybe he could help him to get his life back on track too. After all, wasn't that what family was for? 

. . .

Shades took him to a classy place. The way Shades touched on the subjects, showed him that small talk wasn't his thing, but he neither wanted to discuss personal stuff. He believed his brother usually discussed business, making him wonder what other contacts he had.

"Are uh — are you in a relationship or something?"

"Nah." He drank from his beer. "I confine myself to business relations. Did you leave behind some sweetheart?"

Juice shook his head. It had been a long time since he had a girlfriend, and it had only lasted a few months. He had never been good with serious relationships; usually he was so afraid to fuck up that he backed off when things were getting serious. Especially when all his brothers started to have girlfriends — although it didn't end well for most — he had missed it. Someone who waited for him at the end of the day, who told him about her day, who held him when he was feeling down. Now however, he was glad he had met no one special. He would have dragged her through hell. 

It was for the best that he was alone. He'd hurt enough people. 

"Good. Makes life a lot easier."

A waitress put their plates in front of them. His brother had ordered lobster for the both of them. Juice didn't find the courage to tell his brother that he was actually a vegetarian, although he hadn't always been able to avoid meat in prison either. Although it was against his principles, his last good meal was so long ago that the lobster tasted good anyway. 

They ate in silence. He noticed his brother was observing him, and instead of answering his glance Juice stared at his food. What would the man think of him? He probably considered him as a failure. Juice felt small next to him, meaningless. He looked good in his suit; Juice could feel the tattoos burn on his scalp. He was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans, he looked nowhere as classy as his brother and even when he did put on a suit, he was sure he wouldn't feel like himself in it. 

After dinner, Shades took him to the nightclub he was a co-owner of. He introduced Juice to Mariah, a black woman who turned out to be the other owner. She showed him a wide smile, although the look in her eyes was suspicious; it rather looked like she believed that he was a beggar who was after his brother's money. He didn't exactly feel comfortable around her and was relieved when Shades started to give him a tour of the building. 

They got themselves a drink at the bar, where after people slowly started to trickle in. Piano music filled the room, accompanied by a sultry woman's voice. 

"Enjoy yourself tonight," Shades winked. "You have to celebrate your freedom, little brother."

Juice feigned a smile and nodded as convincingly as he could; the last thing he wanted was his brother to act like his babysitter for the rest of the night. 

Juice listened to the music and smiled at pretty women now and then, but quickly he realized he didn't fit into this place because of the simple clothes he was wearing. Everyone was dressed up, except for him. The ambiance was contrasting strongly with the nights at the clubhouse, and suddenly he missed that casualness. Slipping off his bar stool, he headed outside and breathed in the fresh air. 

Had he just been a witness of his own future? Would he be dressed like that too, one day? He had a feeling nothing would remain of the old Juice. Which was probably for the best anyway. 

His hands deep in his pockets he strolled through the streets. He didn't care much about his safety, although it was weird not to feel the familiar outline of his Glock behind his waistband. After a while, he passed a portico where a group of twelve-year-olds was hanging out. For a moment he could see himself; at that age, he'd been on the streets a lot too. He had often felt lonely — and knowing that he'd had an unknown brother at the other side of the city who hadn't felt much better, caused a pit in his stomach. Something cold spread through his veins. His mother had never told him anything about his brother. Not a word. He felt betrayed. 

The door of the portico opened, and the boys piled in, chatting loudly. There was a young woman in the doorway, greeting them with a smile. Juice stared at her; most women gave street kids like them a wide berth. The woman had a neat appearance; a tan skin, her eyebrows dark and well-formed. She was wearing a reddish brown shawl that was covering the back of her head and her shoulders; most of her waving, dark strands however could be seen. 

Her eyes met his, as if she caught him staring. She even smiled at him in the same way she had smiled to the boys. 

"You want to take a look inside as well?" she asked friendly. Her voice was warm, with an accent he couldn't identify. 

Juice's glance glided across the portico, he didn't even know what kind of building it was. An evangelic church, he read. Quickly he shook his head, and before he knew it his legs started to move and he continued to walk, away from a place he could only besmirch with all the horrible things he had done. 

Yet, he couldn't forget about the woman's warm smile. It had been a long while since someone had looked at him with such an open view, and the further he walked, the stronger the gnawing feeling in his stomach became.