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Ford jogged to the entryway of the alley and peered in. Watching the two men discuss something before the redhead pulled out his wallet and pretty much threw money at the red jacketed man. They were just far enough away that only murmurs of their conversation made it to his ears.
All at once the man started undoing his belt and the other dropped to his knees. Ford very rapidly realized that he did not want to see what was going to happen after. Grabbing Fiddleford’s arm he began to speed walk away from the alleyway, towards their hotel.
“Well at least we know that feller wasn’t getting taken. Well taken away that is.” Fiddleford remarked a few seconds after.
“Right,” Ford coughed out after a moment, still beet red. Eyes looking anywhere other than his friend.
As they walked Ford noticed a red car just peeking out of an alleyway a few blocks down. It looked just like… No, Stanley wasn’t here. He must just be imagining it, it must just be a car that looks identical. Yes that must be it, Stanley is probably in some other town doing fine.
Without warning Ford quickly turned into the alley to get a better view of the car. Hearing Fiddleford make a little surprised noise behind him, he makes his way over to the front of the car. This is stupid, there is no way Stan is here. The plates on this car will be different, why would Stanley be in this town?
Getting close enough to make out the plates Ford sees exactly what he didn’t want. Proudly displayed on the license plate is his brother’s personalized plate, “STNLYMBL.” Ford remembers when they came in, Stan had been so proud of the car that he rebuilt that he spent the extra money just to make it his own.
It took Stan months to save up for the piece of junk, and many more to make it run. It was one of the only projects that he finished without Ford leading him. He still remembers how excited Stan was when he got it to run for the first time, the little dance and bright laughter that happened.
There was no mistaking whose car this was; Stan was somewhere in the city. But why? Why would Stanley be here at the same time as Ford? Ford’s musings were cut short by Fiddleford catching up.
“Ford ya can’t just run away like that!” Fiddleford scolded as he pointed at Stanford, “Ya just disappeared!”
“I apologize Fiddleford, I had to make sure that this is what I thought it was.”
“And was it?” He questioned with a single eyebrow cocked.
Ford gave him a single confident nod, “Yes, yes it is.”
Fiddleford leaned slightly to look at Stanley’s car with a thoughtful expression. “And what makes this car somethin’ so important you run away?”
“It’s my twin brother’s car.”
“Ya got a twin brother?”
“Yes, we had quite a falling out in highschool. We no longer talk but what he did stopped me from getting into West Coast Tech. I haven’t seen him in years.”
He can’t risk Stanley ruining another academic milestone. Ford needs to know why Stan is here and get him out of town. He’s probably here to ruin Ford’s presentation, jealous of what he’s accomplished without Stan.
Of course that’s why Stanley would be here, why else? The only reason Stan has ever been around for Ford was to ride on his coattails, everyone said so. Ford couldn’t let that happen.
Ford feels foolish for a moment just waiting at Stanley’s car. Standing near the front with his arms crossed, staring down both sides of the sidewalk for his twin. But that’s no matter, he needs to make sure Stan isn’t going to do anything to ruin his future further. How resentful could Stan be to show up to the one thing since the Science Project that Ford is proud of?
“We could leave a note with where we’re stayin’ for him ta meet us.” Fiddleford suddenly spoke out. “That way we don’t just ambush this mystery twin a yours.”
After a moment more of waiting Ford agreed to Fiddlefords idea. Writing a note to let his brother know that he should leave town and to not show up to the International Science And Engineering Symposium. Along with where they were staying, so he also wouldn’t be there for the night.
The walk back to the hotel after was much less eventful comparably. They ate dinner at a small restaurant nearby, talking about how the symposium was going and people they had met. It was nice to have a normal night, especially one with Fiddleford.
It was the walk back that the ghost of his brother struck again. Looking over at the gas station next to their hotel Ford noticed Stan’s car. The man getting out of it was wearing the same red jacket from the alleyway. The dirty prostitute was driving his younger twin’s car.
Stan had standards, he would never lower himself to becoming a prostitute. Ford may not have seen his brother for eight years but he highly doubts that Stan could ever fall that low.
From the sidewalk Ford could see that there was no one else in that car. Along with the view he had earlier, he knew that no one could even fit in that car other than a driver. Stanly would never sell his pride and joy, that car was more important to him than anything else. More important than Stanford. Ford needed to know how this man got his brother’s prized possession.
Once again leaving a confused Fiddleford behind, Ford all but sprinted to the dirty red jacketed man.
“Excuse me but where did you get this car?”
“What are you talkin’ about, this is my car.” His voice was vaguely familiar, Ford couldn’t place where he had heard it before.
“No, that is not your car. That is my brother’s car, so where is he?” Ford knew he was being too confrontational but this, frankley disgusting, man was claiming to own the Stanley Mobile. He could not stand this insult to his brother.
“Maybe I am him, ever think of that one smart guy?” the man let out a humorless chuckle at Ford’s.
“My brother would never fall as low as you. Stanley would never just give up !” Ford snarled at this man in the red jacket
Ford watched as the man’s shoulders fell as his head looked up at the sky.
“Listen buster, you need to just leave it alone. It’s none of ya business who does or doesn’t own this car so can it.” The stranger spoke harshly, still not facing Ford.
“Actually it does, because that car is owned by my brother. And I want to know how some, some, libertine vagabond got his car!” Ford threw his balled up fists to his side and he leaned forward towards the man. Body shaking with how much pent up energy he had towards this lascivious and foul man. How dare he act like this, he must have done something to Stan.
There was a long pause from the stranger before he quietly muttered under his breath, “I don't think those were real words.”
Ford was starting to get enraged at the red jacket stranger. First he has the gaul to say he didn’t take Stanley’s car and now he is mocking him.
In a moment of rage Ford stomped up to the man who was driving Stan’s car, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face him. Taking another deep breath to yell at this charlatan who obviously stole the car.
Ford felt all the air in his lungs be punched out, making an awful wheezing noise. As soon as he made eye contact with the man. He knew that face, after all it was an almost mirror image to his own. It was Stanley.
Ford stared slack jawed at his once best friend, the man that destroyed his future, his twin . After all these years they still looked almost the same. Only it looks like all this time away had done something to his twin, something torturous.
Stan’s eyes bored into his with a dead look in them, nothing like the spark of fire he used to have when they were younger. He looked terrible, eyes bloodshot with bags so deep under his eyes they looked purple. His hair was greasy and unkempt. He had the beginnings of a scraggly face of hair, like he hadn’t been able to shave in a while.
“What, got nothin’ to say now that you got your way?” Stan snipped at Ford with his lips curled. “Now that you know that the, what did you say? Oh right, the libertine vagabond turned out to be Stanley Pines.”
Ford couldn’t speak for a moment, eyes searching his brother's gaunt face. Something that he could have only gotten through starvation and or drugs. Stan wasn’t supposed to be like this, he was the people person. He was supposed to be fine, he was supposed to be the normal one.
“Stanley?” Ford quietly asked, hand still on his brother’s arm. His eyes locked onto his brother’s face.
His eyes were bloodshot with bags so deep under his eyes they looked purple. His hair was greasy and unkempt. He had the beginnings of a scraggly face of hair, like he hadn’t been able to shave in a while. There were also all these scars covering him, ranging from small slashes dotted around his exposed skin. Some were worse, like the one that went through his eyebrow, leaving a faint white line and ruined skin.
The one that drew Ford’s attention the most was the one on his mouth. It went from the top of his left lip to the bottom of his chin was a jagged line. It was an ugly pink line that marked his brother's skin. It was about a half inch thick at the thickest point on his chin, tapering to about only a fourth inch at the top of his lip.
The only way for a scar that awful to heal like that is if the injury was horrific. The human face was resilient, very few scars stayed the way this one did.
Stan twisted out of Ford’s grasp with a snarl, “I dont need your fucking pity Ford. You made your choice eight years ago when Pa kicked me out. Looks like you are doing just fine with your friend there so just leave me alone. I don’t need anyone’s help.”
With that he spun around and walked away, heading towards the Stanley Mobile. Right before he slammed the door shut he called out in a slightly less aggressive tone.
“For what it’s worth Poindexter, it was really good to at least see you again. And I’m sorry again for the science fair, I promise it was an accident.”
With those final words Stan started his car and drove away from the gas station. Leaving Ford once again to watch the taillights of his brother's car drive away.