The scenic byway of Joshua Tree National Park could take as long as three hours to reach from Charlie’s rental in Pacific Palisades. But the choice between a long drive and a stupid mistake at home was a clear one, especially since Toby had moved back in two months ago. Getting high in front of Toby was akin to sodomy in front of a priest – an indistinguishable mess of disgust and yearning that Charlie occasionally took some sadistic pleasure in. As Charlie’s convertible zipped along the route’s many cambers, Toby closed his eyes, forcing his pupils up into the back into his head as his brother’s voice sliced through the wind. The unnatural movement gave him a satisfying kind of headache. “Can we talk?” Charlie began, his first words of the day appearing just as the sun began to set. Toby pursed his lips and nodded. It had been…
