LEVEL 10

PLAYER ONE: REMY

Rollo once described returning to his hometown for the holidays as a kid returning to their lego towers. Everything seemed smaller and clunkier after time away. My experience of returning to my childhood home, which was admittedly only a thirty minute drive to the fancier part of town, was the opposite experience.

My parents’ gated community seemed larger and shinier. Perhaps the opulence of my youth was overshadowed by my na?veté. When I road my skateboard down these prestine streets, I didn’t know I was passing by senators and vacant celebrity vacation pads. When Trevor and I went trick or treating, we couldn’t comprehend that the doors we knocked on were million dollar homes.

Now that I’d moved out and spent my days mopping tattoo shop floors for apprentice cheese and playing mall gigs for stale pizza, the lavish sparkle of my upbringing was a shock to my senses. I didn’t belong here then, as a skateboarding kid with a DIY-bathroom-scissor-mullet, and I sure as hell didn’t belong here now, covered in tattoos, carrying a bag of greasy fast food.

Dinner with my parents.

Dinner with my twin and his girlfriend.

I was not about to call in on the intercom of the front gate and announce myself. That was for the rookie black sheep of families…and people with functional vehicles. Instead, I did the sensible thing and snuck in around the back, dodging the pool, tennis court, and around the adjacent side to the kitchen entrance. That’s where our hideout was—where I’d literally hideout until the last possible moment before having to go inside the big, cold house.

Sneaking around was kind of my thing. Sometimes, it worked out for me—sometimes, it got me in trouble. Prowling around my brother’s girlfriend’s loft was a little of both. The details rolled around my mind like a pinball being bounced around with no logic or order. Pinball made me think of having my twin’s girlfriend spread out over the flashing lights like my own personal dessert buffet.

Trevor was bringing her to meet our parents.

She’s different , he’d said.

Part of me wanted to keep operating in secret. The other part wanted to tell him I was fucking her and risk getting punched just to get it all out in the open. Then again, what would confessing to my brother do? Fauna seemed content being my friend . Telling him would likely only serve to piss him off and lose Fauna’s trust.

Then, there was what I’d found in her loft. What had I found? I couldn’t make sense of it. Overall, her bedroom was a shrine to nerdy femme fandom. There was so much pink, so much over-the-top girlhood, it was disgustingly sweet—ribbons and bows, ponies and kittens, all tied up in an intelligent, gentle, cat-headphone wearing girl. So why, when my elbow hit her gummy bear keyboard, did I see the vilest shit appear on her computer screen?

“Tick-tock, loser. Time’s running out!”

“God, I wonder how close everyone is to the end… How embarrassing for you!”

“Seriously, so cringe.”

“You’re not going to beat us in time.”

“Everyone’s going to see you for who you are.”

Her V for Valin witch avatar with long pink hair swayed her hips on the screen as players milled around her. The chat bubbles were from two different gamers: Pretty in Purple and Girth Certificate.

Obviously, they were low life, asshole trolls.

But what were they talking about?

Why were they heckling Fauna, and why’d she put up with it? She wasn’t just putting up with it—she was online playing V for Valin all the damn time… Were these dick-heads harassing her for all those hours I watched her green, online now dot? It didn’t make any sense. Something was missing, something I’d almost gotten her to admit to me in the mall.

Maybe that colorful RPG game held more answers than I’d previously thought.

I tossed my take out bag into the treehouse and followed after it.

“Dude, right in my food,” the garbled voice of my brother greeted me. He was leaning in the corner, our solar twinkle lights glimmering as he tossed his pizza crust into the cardboard delivery box.

“That twin magic strikes again,” I said, grabbing my bag and unwrapping a taco. “Seems we had the same idea.”

Trevor pulled a taco from my bag and took a bite. “We didn’t get full on caviar and mushroom bites as kids—sure as fuck won’t survive off them as adults.”

I took a slice of pepperoni. “Has anyone seen you yet?”

“Nope, came in through the back.”

“Same.”

We ate in silence for a while, the crickets outside chirping as various cooks and servers filtered in through the lot beneath us. “So, is Fauna still coming?”

Trevor buttoned the top of his light blue collared shirt. He always hated having the top button so tight around his neck. He was dressed up tonight, and so was I. I’d worn a white button down shirt, slacks, and a sports coat. My tattoos, save for the ones on my neck and hands, were concealed. The silver loops and studs from my piercings were back at my apartment, sitting in a dish by my bathroom sink.

My twin raised an eyebrow at my getup. “Why so… preppy ?”

My throat suddenly felt tight. “Did we both forget to bring sodas?”

Trevor reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask. When I reached for it, he pulled it away. “Who are you trying to impress by being so square? Not Dad, I hope.”

“Like I could compete with you if I tried,” I argued. “You’re the golden child. The chosen one.”

Trevor scoffed. “You’re so dense sometimes.”

I took a long, burning gulp of bourbon and passed him his flask back. “Hey, we should probably talk about… I need to tell you something.”

My twin held up his finger as he fished his phone out of his pocket. “Hold that thought—she’s here.”

“Fauna?”

“What? No, Mary Jane.”

“Why is Mary Jane here?”

“She’s your date, dumbass.” Trevor climbed down the ladder, and I followed after him.

“Oh, ok, let me check and see if I have a text from your girlfriend—oh, wait, she doesn’t text, because she has a flip-phone from 2007.”

Trevor chuckled. “She’s an odd bird.”

“Why the hell is Mary Jane texting you?”

Trev shrugged. “We’re twins; maybe she got us confused.”

“You’d think the fact that I have tits and you don’t would be a tip-off.”

Trevor chuckled and opened his mouth to speak before choking on his words at the sight before us. Waiting at the bottom of the stone staircase leading up the front of our parents’ house were our girls.

My gaze immediately fell to Fauna, who…who… Confusion furrowed my brows as I took in her attire. My typically pink princess wore a modest, grey pencil skirt, a white blouse, and her blonde hair tied in a bun. Blonde hair. Not pink, not streaked with aqua. There were no sparkles on her face, no magenta eyeshadow. She looked so…unlike herself.

Mary Jane smoothed her emerald-green dress, clutching a bottle of wine, and looked over my shoulder at Trevor before noticing me. “I’ve always wanted to see this house up close.”

I didn’t even remember inviting her, and again, I was reminded that I needed to break up with her.

“Why’s that?” I asked, still unable to look away from Fauna, who was strongly avoiding eye contact with me.

Trevor inched closer to MJ. “She owns a real estate firm, duh.”

“You do?” I asked, still not wholly able to pry my curious gaze from Fauna’s bland ensemble.

We made our way up the steps, but Fauna lagged behind, giving me a chance to whisper. “What’s up with the boring-ass outfit? You look like the black and white portion of the beginning of The Wizard of Oz.”

She cut me a glance. “What’s up with your boring-ass suit? You look like John Trovolta in Grease when he dresses like a football player to impress Olivia Newton-John.”

“Don’t like it? Thought you liked jocks ? Though, thank you. I like being compared to Danny. Grease is one of my favorite musicals, actually.”

Fauna rolled her eyes, a tendril of blonde hair falling from her bun. “Thought you liked business women ?”

I wanted to continue the conversation—or kiss her—but the tall front door opened like the gates of hell themselves, revealing the house manager, Watson.

“Hey Mr. W.,” Trevor greeted.

“Nice to see you all again.” Mr. Watson was always formal, despite knowing us since we were toddlers. He ushered us inside and took the girls’ coats. Announcing us at the entrance of the dining room. The kitchen was bustling with activity, and it became clear that my parents had added more house staff since the last time I’d visited. I’d always felt out of place here. Trevor, however, looked right at home. In fact, so did Mary Jane. The opulence suited them; they were comfortable in it, whereas Fauna looked at her shoes while I marked pathways to the exits and wondered if the windows were still unlocked from my last daring escape from the last family dinner.

Trevor leaned in. “How much do you want to bet Watson locked the windows after last time?”

“You’re on. He’s not on dusting duty anymore, so he probably forgot.”

My mother appeared like a ghostly apparition in flowing white and Chanel number five. “My children! My children have returned to me.”

“Is she okay?” Mary Jane mouthed after a long hug from my mom. I made a drinking gesture with my hand, and Fauna giggled.

I leaned in. “Mom’s a retired broadway actress and thinks a continuous wine buzz coaxes out her creative prowess.”

Fauna covered her smile and graciously accepted a hug from my mother before Mom embraced and inspected Trevor and me. “You’ve both gotten taller,” she exclaimed. “And my, what perfect love matches you’ve acquired. Trevor and Mary Jane, Remy and Fauna. I couldn’t have cast better pairs if I directed your lives’ plays!” She spun, letting her white cape fan out.

Oh, shit. Trevor and I exchanged glances and realized we were mismatched. He was standing next to MJ while I was standing next to Fauna.

“Switch?” he asked, and we repositioned.

Trevor cleared his throat. “No, Mom. Fauna is my girlfriend. Mary Jane is Remy’s girlfriend.”

My mother pursed her red lips and surveyed us as Mary Jane took my arm and Fauna took to Trevor’s side. “I don’t believe you,” she proclaimed. My throat tightened, and I made to make a joke but was interrupted by the booming voice of my dad.

“Ah, the prodigal twins return.” Our father, already swirling a glass out scotch and dressed in his house coat that likely cost the same as our monthly rent, stood between us and hugged our shoulders. Mr. Monroe The CEO could never hug us one at a time.

I remarked with an edge of snark, “Always with the double side hug, Dad. Always ever efficient, even with doling out fatherly affection.”

“Hey, Dad,” Trevor said. “This is my girlfriend, Fauna.”

My father shook Fauna’s hand and took a small sip of scotch before glancing at my date. Trevor elbowed me, and I pulled my gaze from Fauna’s nervous, non-sparkly, natural-makeuped face. Even when MJ was right next to me, I forgot about her. That was it; I vowed to break up with her after dinner.

“This is my—” I tripped over my words. “This is Mary Jane.”

Mary Jane looked my father in the eye and shook his hand. “Mary Jane Williamson, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Your home is remarkable. Is that Spanish tile work on the ceiling?”

My dad’s eyebrows rose, and he let out a low whistle. “Well, I’m impressed, Remy. A woman with a firm handshake, includes her full name in greeting, and knows her décor. This one’s a keeper.”

Trevor’s shoulders sagged and Fauna winced. Mary Jane didn’t notice as she followed my dad deeper into the dining room, listening intently as he droned on about where boring-ass wood beams were imported from.

My mother grabbed onto Trevor’s arm. “Escort me to dinner, my darling son. A night of debauchery awaits!”

Trev shot a glance over his shoulder and mouthed, “Mom’s smashed already.”

A chuckle huffed from my throat as I lagged behind with Fauna, who looked at her grey ballet flats as she walked. “I can’t get over how beige you are right now.”

Fauna narrowed her gaze up at me and whispered harshly, “Would you lay off? I’m trying to make a good impression. Why do you care anyway?”

“You’re next to me, the family failure. You could be riding a unicycle and juggling upside down crosses, and my parents would still be more impressed with you than me.” Fauna bit her lip to hide a reluctant smile, and I took advantage of the pause to add, “And I care because I like you, if you haven’t noticed. A lot.”

“Why did you just leave the other day? At my apartment, you?—“

A small bell rang against the sound of chairs being pulled out from under the long dining table. Watson pulled out my father’s chair, and we all made it to our seats.

“Please, be seated,” our old butler instructed. Rich people loved having the most boring, basic shit spelled out for them. Imagine paying someone to tell you that your ass goes into a chair. I was just about to share that brilliant and funny anecdote with Fauna when I leaned over, and she looked up at me with wide eyes.

Trevor cleared his throat. “I think we should switch our dates.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said absently until I looked around the table and realized Fauna was next to me and Mary Jane was next to him. Our girls giggled awkwardly as they moved to sit next to us. Mary Jane’s perfume hitting me in the face like a wall of Bagarat Rouge and platinum credit card plastic. She unfolded the cloth napkin and smoothed it her lap. “You never told me your parents were so wonderful. You always made it seem like they were awful.“

“They are,” I muttered under my breath as a server filled my glass with red wine. With a smile, I turned and took the bottle. “I’ll keep that—” I met a familiar stare. Her faded purple hair was wavy and in her face. “You’re Prue, right?”

Fauna turned as pale as the wafers of caviar placed before us. Prue noticed Fauna’s discomfort and nodded. “That’s me. Nice to see you again, Remy. I work with a catering company part time. We were just lucky enough to get this job for the night.”

So many questions bounced through my mind. From what I’d gathered from the torn photos in Fauna’s room and their icy interactions, the two of them didn’t get along. Somehow, it felt deeper than just a friendship falling out—then, it hit me. Had they dated? Chet had mentioned as much, but Trevor had denied it. Why?

My father clapped his hands—which was rich people speak for dismissing the help. “Stupid, demeaning bullshit,” I muttered under my breath.

Mary Jane harshly shushed me as she lifted her glass. “Thank you for having us here tonight. This looks divine.”

My father smiled, a sight I hated to see, and my mother took the opportunity to drone on about herself, how the quail quiche reminded her of a film she’d worked on or something. I wasn’t paying attention; instead, I was watching Fauna. Trevor adjusted his collar, flashed Mom the occasional polite smile, and ate his tiny expensive food.

There was no interaction between him and a nervous, fifty-shades of beige Fauna. Then again, I wasn’t exactly chatting it up with Mary Jane either. My job of the evening was refilling my wine glass, which somehow just kept needing refilling over and over again, and finding out if those windows were indeed locked after my last daring escape from family dinner.

My mother stood and wobbled on her heel. “Children, my children.”

“Oh, here we go,” I murmured to Trevor, who pressed his lips together to hide his grin.

Mom continued, “Life is but a story. We are made of stories, are we not? Now, my children and those who love them—tell me your tales.”

Dad rested his chin on his fist and watched us silently—half buzzed, half amused, full asshole.

I answered as I swirled my wine, more than half buzzed myself. “What shall I do for the king, mother? Doth he require a dance from the court jester?”

Fauna giggled and tried to hide it with a cough as Mary Jane sighed, horrified.

Mom sat down, and Dad gazed on, unfazed. “Remy, I simply want to hear the songs of your hearts.” Her voice quivered at the end. As zany as my mom was, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I obliged.

“Okay, well, Trevor here won his game a couple weeks ago. Not only is he the star student, he’s the star soccer player who’s going on to finals this weekend.”

Trevor glanced at Dad, who snapped his fingers. Watson appeared to refill his scotch. Trev’s shoulders slumped as our mom thrummed her long, french-tipped nails on the tabletop. “Well, isn’t that something? Do you play sports games as well, Ms. Fauna?”

“No-no,” Fauna nervously squeaked. “Not sports games, no.”

“Other games, then? Perhaps of the more feminine persuasion?” Mom slid a not-so-sly glance between Fauna and me.

Mary Jane changed the subject, thankfully. “These crystal wine glasses are vintage, aren’t they?”

With a click of her tongue, my mom slowly turned her attention back to the table. “Oh, yes, dear. Those were a gift from the prince of Paris.”

“There’s no prince of Paris, Mom,” Trevor mumbled as he and Mary Jane fought to conceal their smiles at each other.

Smiling at each other? MJ only ever rolled her eyes at me. Wait a damn minute…

“Coach Monroe, as my kids call him, is a very talented athlete,” Mary Jane spoke up. “Really, your son is remarkable.”

My mother giggled. “I knew it. My instincts for character chemistry are never wrong. You’re all mixed up—all of you?—“

“What is mixed up ,” my dad interjected with that booming CEO timbre, “is the twins’ situation.”

“Fuck, right when the wine runs out.” I tipped the empty bottle over my sad, lonely glass. “Sorry, go ahead, Mr. Monroe. Let’s hear it.”

Fauna shot me a sympathetic look, like she knew what was coming. My crush, the girlfriend I needed to break up with, my brother, mother, and the host of servers lined against the wall pretending not to listen—but who were actually listening intently—were about to hear all about what a disappointment I was.

Luckily, I was too drunk to care.

“There are not adequate words to convey how difficult it is to watch your child squander their potential.” Dad shook his head, and I prepared for an onslaught. He’d never gone in on me like this so publicly.

“I-I disagree with you, sir,” Fauna said with a small tremble in her voice. She was so nervous, and I didn’t need her to defend me, or worse—bear the brunt of my dad’s ire.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I assured her.

Fauna shook her head. “It’s not fine.” She addressed my dad, “Remy is a hard worker, a great friend, and a talented musician. They aren’t squandering anything.”

My mother giggled and nodded, like her suspicions were more and more confirmed as the night lagged on. This whole dinner was a ticking bomb.

My dad raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Remy? I’m not talking about Remy. Of course, I am proud of them and their accomplishments.”

I think my jaw hit the table. Something clanked. “What?”

Dad looked at me like I was an idiot for not understanding his meaning and elaborated with a wave of his hand. “Remy is a self-starter, just like I was at your age. I began my countertop supply shop with nothing but a slab of unfinished quartz and a knack for sales. Remy is building a trade, a craft, in their line of business.” He glanced at me. “Now, I may not understand why anyone would jab holes in their nose or cover themselves in garish ink…but I respect showing up to a job every day, working your way up, and, beyond that, pursing artistic endeavors such as musical instruments. Naturally, I am pleased with Remy. There’s a bit of me and a bit of your mother in there.” Dad winked.

“I’ve time hopped. I’ve switched realities,” I awed. “Dr. Who’s Tardis will slam into the dining room at any moment now… Then who are you disappointed in?”

“Trevor, of course.” Dad answered plainly.

Trevor’s face burned red—from either embarrassment or anger, I couldn’t be sure. My twin sense was telling me it was a mix of both. My family did love a public flogging—though I’d never seen one directed at the perfect twin.

“Dad, are you serious? Trevor is a fucking star,” I defended.

Mr. Monroe scoffed. “Good grades get you nowhere in the real world. I never went to college and I turned out fine.” He gestured to the opulence of the room. “And don’t get me started on kicking a ball for a living. When will you learn, son? The family business awaits, and you’re playing games.”

Trevor let out a breath and threw his napkin on the table. “Kicking a ball happens to be what I love most in this world, Dad, but thanks for sharing your opinion, and in front of my—” He looked to Mary Jane and then to Fauna before looking to me in panic.

Oh? Oh, fuck.

Mother hiccuped and pointed between us. “Told ya so!”

Dad stood. “You bring in this little girl and expect me to be impressed? I’ve told you for years you needed to choose the right partner, someone to join in on our family legacy—and this is what you bring us? This meek little mousey thing?”

I stood then, my chair falling back. “Watch it, old man. Don’t you dare speak about Fauna like that. This fucking house burns like any other, and I will be the one lighting the match if you ever make her feel the slightest bit inferior again.”

My father rolled his eyes as Fauna looked up at me in admiration. “This woman,” he pointed to Mary Jane, “Remy’s girlfriend, is exactly who should be a part of this family. Wise, polite, successful. Trevor, why can’t you just follow in your twin’s footsteps?”

Trevor stood and knocked over the glassware on the table in a dramatic fit of broken glass. “I’m fucking her! Mary Jane doesn’t even like Remy!”

Mary Jane rested her head in her hands. My mother clapped, as if watching a Broadway show. “Bravo!” she cheered.

Seething, my father pointed. “You’re one wrong move away from being cut off from your trust fund, son.”

“Take it.” Trevor stepped back, shooting me an angry glance. “Or better yet, give my portion to Remy. Remy takes everything else from me, so why not this too?”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

“You don’t think I know what you two have been up to? Get real.” He sneered at me and Fauna.

“Oh, well, you’re one to fucking talk. Sleeping with Mary Jane, huh? You’re a fucking liar.”

“So are you!” Trevor shouted.

“We’re twins! We’re the exact fucking same, all the time!”

Someone chuckled in the distance, and Fauna looked over in horror to find the purple-haired Prue was recording on her phone. “This is going in the game, Fauna. Tick-tock,” she chided.

“What the hell is happening?” I asked Fauna, who had tears streaming down her face.

As Trevor and our father erupted into a screaming match, I grabbed Fauna’s hand and lead her to the window, finding it unlocked.

And we fled the scene.