At that moment, Carlton came out of the house and walked onto the porch, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp and slightly disheveled. His thin body was clad in flannel pants and a fuzzy sweater that emphasized his slender frame. With such an appearance, he strongly resembled the lover boy from a B-movie. His wide-eyed smile and cheerful gaze indicated that he had no idea what Bobby and Emily had just discussed.
"Well, how is my beautiful muse?" he said with a wide smile, holding out his arms as if to embrace her.
Emily looked up, noticing his enthusiasm, but didn't step back.
"Am I your muse?" she asked with a sly smile. "Since when?"
"Ever since you came into my life," Carlton continued without a trace of embarrassment, still smiling. "You inspire me even to such trivial things as going out onto the veranda with wet hair."
Emily burst out laughing.
"That's a compliment, of course!" she teased him. "For my sake you risk catching a cold... at midday in summer!"
Carlton, beaming with his own confidence, took another step closer to Emily, spreading his arms wide as if he was going to hug her right then and there.
"You don't understand, Emily," he said, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're my inspiration! Look, even Bobby is sitting there looking thoughtful, although usually all he cares about is comics and sweets.
Emily raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Aha, so I am also responsible for your brother's sudden seriousness?"
"Definitely," Carlton nodded, looking as if he had just proven some complex theorem. "You have such magnetism that even the most persistent of people break their concentration."
"Ha-ha," Emily chuckled, shaking her head. "That's all very nice, of course, but you're clearly missing something."
"So what?" Carlton tilted his head to the side, as if trying to solve her riddle.
"That you completely forgot about the party we had planned for tonight," Emily began to explain. "I had all my friends excited in advance about having a dance party at your house to the music of The Doors, and you seem to have forgotten everything!" Emily finished, drilling Carlton with a reproachful look.
Carlton blinked, then ran a hand through his damp hair, clearly trying to remember what party he was talking about.
"Uh-uh-uh... I didn't forget, I was just tidying myself up so I'd look as fresh as a cucumber!" he said with noticeable uncertainty in his voice.
Emily sighed, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Oh, this talent of yours for getting out of trouble," she said, shaking her head in disappointment. "We agreed a week ago!"
Carlton adjusted his sweater, clearly uncomfortable under Emily's gaze, and smiled widely, trying to turn it into a joke:
"Oh, my dear, I was in the bathroom all this time on purpose to look like a real gentleman! You don't want your friends to see me in a bad light, do you?"
Emily shook her head and chuckled.
"A gentleman who forgets his promises - that only happens in the movies, my dear!"
"What are you talking about!" Carlton feigned horror. "This is, by the way, a carefully planned strategy!"
"Strategy?" Emily raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "What is it?"
Carlton nodded as if he was thinking, and then said importantly:
"Create intrigue! I'm waiting for the moment to impress everyone with my perfect... uh... plan."
Bobby, who was watching this scene, couldn't help but snort.
"You're getting out of it as if you were given homework on Matesha, and instead you started playing on the console," he added, looking mockingly at his brother.
Carlton raised his hand dramatically, as if calling for everyone to be quiet, and said with mock importance:
"Shut up, child prodigy! The adults are working!"
Bobby snorted, a mischievous grin crossing his face.
"Yeah, 'work,'" he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Carlton to hear. "If talking nonsense is work, then you're a master of conversational laziness."
Emily laughed and slapped her hand on the arm of the chair, barely holding back tears of laughter.
"Oh, Bobby, you clearly won this round."
Carlton looked at the ceiling with mock sorrow and put his hand to his heart.
"Well, here I am again, defeated by an eight-year-old genius," he said in a tone of insulted innocence. "How am I supposed to live with such a younger brother?"
"Patience is a virtue, my brother," Bobby retorted without batting an eyelid. "I advise you to start training."
Emily laughed, giving Bobby an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"Oh, Carlton, it looks like your little brother has officially become the king of sarcasm in this house."
Carlton, trying to maintain the remnants of his dignity, chuckled:
"You know what? You two just conspired."
"We're a team," Bobby said proudly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh, team," Carlton pretended to be hurt. "Emily, you betrayed me!"
"It's not a betrayal, it's a choice," she replied with a smile. "You just have to give Bobby a chance sometimes. He clearly won't let you down."
Carlton pretended to be hurt to the heart and put his hand to his chest, as if he wanted to show how much the words hurt him.
"It's not nice to plot against your brother's girlfriend! It's just meanness!"
Emily laughed and playfully nudged him in the shoulder.
"Mean? Seriously? You say that like Bobby and I are plotting to take over the world."
"Perhaps you are doing that too," Carlton narrowed his eyes, as if suspecting something much bigger in this conspiracy. He shook his head and continued with exaggerated seriousness: "And yet it all started with small things: jokes about colds in the summer heat, teasing about the party... And now you are making plans to replace me in my own house!"
Emily rolled her eyes and couldn't help but laugh.
"Substitute? Carlton, that certainly sounds intriguing, but I'm afraid you overestimate our ingenuity."
"Oh, I don't know, I don't know," he replied, looking at the two of them with a slight grin. "I wouldn't be surprised if I came into the kitchen one day and Bobby was sitting there with my coffee, reading my morning papers."
Bobby shrugged, keeping his composure.
"I've already seen your newspapers. Nothing interesting."
Emily burst out laughing, and Carlton, pretending to be hurt, theatrically put his hand to his heart:
"Ah, my brother! You just broke my heart."
"Who's being dramatic here?" Emily retorted, trying to suppress a smile.
Carlton sighed dramatically and sat down on the veranda railing, clasping his hand around his knee.
"You know, it seems to me that being the object of your jokes is my life's mission. I just realized: my entire role in this family is to stoically endure the mockery of my younger brother and his ally."
"Ally?" Emily raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "Carlton, I'm more of a mediator here."
"A mediator who always sides with the eight-year-old genius," Carlton teased her.
Bobby was shaking his head thoughtfully at this point, his gaze becoming a little more serious as he remembered the note he had told Carlton's girlfriend earlier. He looked at his brother and Emily, noticing their laughing faces, and felt something inside him urge him to break the light atmosphere.
"Hey, Carlton," he began quietly, a little nervously, "I... I wanted to show you something.
Carlton, still smiling, turned his head toward his brother. He was still ready to crack a joke, but he noticed that Bobby's expression had changed. For a moment, something more than jokes about newspapers and morning coffee had captured his interest.
"What happened?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest and lowering his voice. "You don't look like someone who just won a verbal battle."
Bobby sighed and looked at Emily again, as if seeking her support. He felt like he couldn't keep it to himself, and even though the atmosphere was light and casual, he needed to share it.
"It's... not that it's something terrible, I just found an article in the newspaper. A very strange one. About some deaths in New York." He hesitated, seeing Carlton frown. "But it wasn't just any death. It said that a politician who died many years before this event was captured on the camera of a dead photographer. He was captured, you understand, in the same studio, and even the date on the photo was the same day these two died... It was like some kind of ghost visited them there, honestly..."
Bobby said the last words with a nervous expression, feeling his doubts starting to set in. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was about the story that was so disturbing, but the certainty that something strange was really going on grew with every word he read.
Carlton fell silent, his face became serious, and, as always, he tried to find a rational explanation.
"Wait, you're telling me that the photo was of a dead politician who died years ago?" Carlton asked, frowning slightly. "What are you saying, Bobby, you said it was a newspaper, not some sensational tabloid piece of crap. Are you sure it's true?"
"I don't know, Carlton..." Bobby shook his head, still uneasy. "But there were so many weird coincidences. Like, the fact that this photo was taken the same day those two bodies were found. And that politician in the picture. You know, I thought maybe it was just a fake, but... why was the article so sure that he was there, in that studio? It's all really weird, honestly."
Carlton sighed, looking at the paper with disbelief. His usual confidence in such stories was noticeably shaken. He tried to maintain some distance, not wanting to get too involved in these mystical discussions.
"Well, you know that I don't believe in the nonsense from Stephen King books. So don't burden me with this nonsense, okay? These are just facts distorted by journalists, or maybe someone started a newspaper canard. And in the end, who can say that it was the same politician in the photo? It could be some kind of his double, a cosplayer, who knows who else!"
Bobby heard Carlton's words and felt his anxiety ease a little. Of course his brother was right. It was very strange, and perhaps that strangeness and inexplicability was the essence of the whole incident. But the thought that someone could have spread false rumors still haunted him.
"Yeah, maybe you're right," Bobby said doubtfully, "but something still bothers me. This isn't the kind of paper that writes nonsense, and there are too many coincidences here. A politician who died years ago, and suddenly he appears in a photograph... And that date, Carlton, it coincided exactly with the day the bodies were found in the studio.
Carlton reached for his cup of coffee with a grin and looked at his brother and said:
"You're getting too carried away. You know what I think? Maybe one of these "journalists" just painted a pretty picture to shake people up. Just like in cheap supernatural books - all these mysteries and mystical events."
Emily, sitting next to him, listened attentively to the conversation, glancing from one to the other. She always thought Carlton was too easy about these things, but Bobby wasn't entirely sure either. She stood up, walked over to the table, and looked at the article in the newspaper.
"Before you came out to us," she said to Carlton, "Bobby and I had already discussed this topic.
"So what did you come to?" Carlton chuckled.
"Not yet," she replied, not taking her eyes off the paper. "But something in the article clearly doesn't add up. Especially this photograph... Why did a politician who has been dead for a long time appear in the picture? It's too strange to just write it off as fiction."
Carlton grinned, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at her and Bobby.
"Do you two really believe these weird theories? This is just a newspaper hoax. Look, Emily, you probably know that journalists sometimes like to inflate stories, add mysticism to attract attention. And then there's some politician... This is a great way to make the article more exciting."
Bobby looked at Carlton, feeling his recent confidence begin to fade.
"Brother," he began, interrupting him uncertainly, "you saw how it was all described. This is not just an accident. How is this possible?"
Carlton, despite his initial skepticism, thought about it. He felt that the question was not so simple, but he did not want to admit that he was succumbing to mysticism.
"Okay, so it's not an accident," Carlton said, but his voice no longer held the same confidence as before. "But what do we care? The New York cops can deal with these bodies in New York, but we've got a ton of problems of our own in Cleveland!" He spread his arms wide, as if trying to indicate the full scope of "his" concerns.
Emily looked at him with a smirk, her eyes never leaving his face.
"Oh, yes, of course, you live in Cleveland and don't give a damn about any other city," Emily said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She spoke with a slight mockery, but there was also a drop of feigned resentment in her voice. "You really upset me, dear," she added, raising her eyebrows and pausing for effect. "After all, I live in New York!"
Carlton looked slightly puzzled, but his expression quickly changed to something more playful when he noticed her looking at him.
"And I think you've forgotten that I'm from Cleveland. We have our own problems here, and to be honest, I'm not particularly interested in what's going on at the other end of the country," Carlton smiled, although he knew that his words sounded a little dishonest.
He had long known how much his girlfriend was attached to her native New York. Emily couldn't help but giggle, but then she looked serious again.
"Well, you understand perfectly well that this is not just "some news". Something strange is happening there, and all this concerns not only New York, but us too. I can't just close my eyes to such things. In any case, if you were not such a skeptic, maybe you yourself would see how important this is!"
Carlton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had always been the type of person who preferred to stay on the side of rationality and did not believe in the supernatural. However, something about Bobby's stories and the facts he had noticed made him nervous. He knew that when Emily started talking about something serious, her interest usually did not wane until she got answers.
"Okay," Carlton finally sighed, "let's say you're right, and this story isn't so trivial. But let's face it, it's none of our business. Our job is to throw a party! Ooo-oo-oo-OOH!" he suddenly shouted, jumping up and down, as if he wanted to get rid of all the weight of their conversation with this movement.
Bobby, who had recently been seriously thinking about the dark events in New York, couldn't help but smile. Carlton, who always liked to turn the conversation into a light joke, did it with flying colors. His energy was infectious, and even Emily, despite the seriousness of the topic under discussion, couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh, come on, Carlton," she chuckled, "you're just like a child. A party is great, but you can't just forget what's going on in the world, can you?"
Carlton bowed gravely, as if acknowledging her remark.
"Of course I don't forget!" Carlton said with an ironic smile, throwing back his wet hair. "But what can I do? You were the one who suggested throwing a party, and here I am! I've already bought more Doors albums from the store, so don't worry, your friends will be absolutely delighted when they gather at my place for the evening!"
Emily, standing next to him, couldn't help but laugh. She knew Carlton was always like this - he might seem superficial, but he wasn't that bad at throwing parties.
"Oh, you don't know how nice it is to hear that!" Emily exclaimed, fixing her hair and coming closer to Carlton. "The Doors are just a cult! Well, now I understand that this evening will definitely be unforgettable.
Carlton smiled at his girlfriend and stretched in the sun, stretching his arms as if stretching every muscle after a long day. With a victorious air, he added:
"Well, we've got plenty of time before the evening, so we can relax." He didn't immediately notice that Bobby had been silent the entire time, completely absorbed in his newspaper. "Are you still with this, Bobby?" Carlton asked, looking at his brother curiously.
Bobby snorted and winced in response, not looking up from the page. He really didn't want to share his thoughts, especially when Carlton and Emily were clearly in the mood for fun.
"No, everything's fine," he replied, without even looking up from the text. "It's just... it's not what it seems."
Carlton shook his head quietly, settling into the chair next to him. His posture was relaxed, but there was a wariness in his eyes, as if he expected the conversation to be ongoing.
"Come on, Bobby," he said, stretching out his legs and propping them up on the coffee table. "You said The Doors were going to be on top tonight, so forget the papers! There's a party coming up! You should be ready to dance, not sitting here with that old material."
"Carlton," Bobby responded, "you've always told me that I'm too young to hang out with adults. You, Emily, and her friends are no match for me..."
Carlton laughed at this, almost unable to contain his laughter. He sat down in his chair and shrugged, looking at Bobby, who continued to sit with the newspaper in his hands, lost in thought.
"Oh, Bobby, can you be serious?" Carlton said, still smiling. "You may be too young for some things," he winked at Emily, "but dancing has been taught since kindergarten!"
"They dance in kindergarten, yes, but definitely not to the Doors or other hardcore," Bobby began to defend himself.
Carlton laughed and opened the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of lemonade.
"Why is that? Are you afraid that the Doors will corrupt you? Throw away these prejudices of the aged officials from the Soviet Politburo!"
Bobby couldn't help but smile. Carlton always knew how to get him out of his serious mood. But this time, even though he wanted to laugh, the topic was still important.
"The Soviet Union has been gone for many years," Bobby said, raising an eyebrow, "but bands like the Doors still exist. And, you know, I just don't like rock. Symphonies, yes, I adore them, especially Mahler, but rock... It makes my ears ache.
Carlton couldn't help but chuckle at Bobby's words. He leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable.
"Oh, Bobby, you're so old-fashioned," he said with a smile. "Mahler's great, but when you listen to the Doors, you just don't seem to have room for normal music. Everything is too academic, by the notes. Listen to those guys - they blew up the era. And believe me, they had their own symphony, only with guitars and drums!"
Bobby didn't answer right away. He sat in his chair, arms folded across his chest, listening attentively to the argument. There was a genuine thoughtfulness in his eyes, but in his soul he was still in the old-fashioned, slightly detached world he found himself in. A Mahler symphony seemed to him something higher than the raw power of rock music.
"You don't understand, Carlton," he finally said. "I'm not against rock as a genre. But... when I listen to Mahler, for example, I feel the music touching all your deepest strings. It doesn't just sound, it tears you apart from within, turns you into something more. But rock... it's too straightforward, too noisy. It's for those who aren't afraid to let chaos into themselves."
Carlton shook his head slightly, but didn't seem to be hurt by his brother's words. He simply smiled, knowing that for Bobby the world would be too simple and straightforward if he didn't focus on the details.
"Ha, yeah, you're definitely not the type to understand The Doors the first time," Carlton winked, getting up from his chair. "I generally thought that you were the type who liked to delve into complex structures, and not just dive into the wilds without stopping. Well, okay, if you want, I'll play you Mahler's Sixth Symphony, it's more or less energetic, even a bit like a march. But I'm afraid that Emily's friends won't appreciate classical music, will they?" and he winked at his girlfriend.
Emily chuckled and tossed her hair over her shoulder, glancing at Carlton.
"Don't exaggerate," she said, "my friends may not like classical music, but I'm sure Mahler would be an interesting discovery for them. But The Doors are a good old way to escape reality for them."
Carlton leaned towards her and raised his eyebrows.
"What are you talking about? You yourself say that the whole crowd at the party with you is actually everyone else except us," he said with a grin. "And Mahler - yes, a couple of experts will evaluate him."
"I admit, you're right," Emily agreed, shrugging with a smile. "But if you're so unsure about your music collection, then try and find something for me in your Doors."
Carlton laughed, but his eyes grew a little more serious. He had always been the type to be actively entertained and didn't like to dwell on serious matters.
"I may not agree with your tastes, but you deserve something more interesting than the usual three minutes in songs. So... Okay, I'll choose something for you, but believe me, you don't want to listen to only The Doors. I can offer you something, but you should at least open up a little bit to other musical horizons!"
Bobby, who had been silent all this time, looked up from his newspaper and glanced sideways at Carlton.
"I don't understand what you're talking about. I only mentioned Mahler to get rid of dancing to your Doors," Bobby muttered, embarrassed.
Carlton and Emily exchanged meaningful glances, and then both burst out laughing. Bobby, feeling his face flush, quickly tried to justify himself.
"Oh, come on, I'm not against the Doors as music, I just don't want to dance, I don't like it, and I'm not interested in it," he said, nervously throwing the newspaper aside. "I'd rather watch a movie, or better yet, read a book, about Captain Blood, for example, I stopped right in the middle of his Chronicles, I want to know what happens next, and you with your dancing..."
Carlton and Emily exchanged glances, and in their eyes there was a flash of both a smile and patience, like people who had long been accustomed to each other's strange hobbies. Emily straightened her hair first, looking at Bobby with a slight laugh.
"Are you really going to sit there with a book at a party, Bobby?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "This isn't a library, it's a place where everyone enjoys the moment! Even Captain Blood wouldn't want to sit alone with a book when everyone else is dancing."
Carlton, who seemed to be just waiting for such a reason, could not resist and laughed loudly.
"Emily is right! You probably thought that if you sat down with a book, you would become smarter than all of us, huh? Well, come on, show me how you will read about Captain Blood when everyone around you is having fun!" He winked, pretending that he was ready to catch him at it.
Bobby snorted, but inside he felt his irritation mixed with confusion. He didn't like it when Carlton and Emily insisted on having their way, as if he had to give in to their wishes.
"That's not what I'm talking about," he said, rubbing his temples. "I just prefer to read books. Why waste time on something I don't like? Music is one thing, but dancing to it... It's just not my thing. I'm not like you."
Emily, still smiling, leaned towards him and, placing her hand on his shoulder, said softly:
"You don't have to dance if you don't want to. But you can be with us, feel the atmosphere. You're not going to sit in the corner, clutching a book, while we're all having fun, are you?"
Carlton, as always, was up for a joke, but his tone was no longer as mocking as before. He just wanted everyone to feel like they were part of the evening.
"You see, Bobby, sometimes it's important to let go, to relax. Well, at least for an hour. You have no idea how many interesting things can happen if you just allow yourself to be part of the general crowd. You don't have to be a super dancer or a music fan, but life is not only books and movies, you have to admit."
Bobby, still crossing his arms over his chest, looked at him. He wasn't ready to agree completely, but the sincerity in Carlton's words made him think.
"Okay then," he finally said, shifting in his chair. "I won't dance, I guarantee you that one hundred percent, and sitting at the table is a piece of cake. Just, for God's sake, try to set the table without alcohol, okay? Otherwise I'll have nothing to drink."
Carlton couldn't help but grin, and Emily, standing next to him, laughed.
"Oh, Bobby, you're so funny!" she said, shaking her head. "You'll manage somehow. There's always something to do at a party, even if you're not drinking and dancing."
Carlton turned to her and added:
"Bobby always thinks we'll cause some kind of chaos with alcohol. But don't worry, I promise there will only be things on the table that won't scare you. No wild cocktails or crazy drinks. Just clean and healthy stuff, like mineral water or juice!"
Bobby grinned, but there was an unshakable confidence in his eyes.
"That's only part of the problem," he said, still looking at Carlton. "No matter how much you try to persuade me, I still don't plan on being part of this crazy fun. And anyway, I think you're all taking this evening too seriously."
Emily, ignoring Bobby's words, walked up to him and leaned over, holding a glass goblet in her hands.
"Look, Bobby," she began, sitting down in the chair next to him. "We're not talking about making you do something you don't like. We're talking about just being with us, feeling the vibe, and... being part of something that unites us all.
Bobby looked at her with a slight mistrust, his lips pursed. He realized that it was important to her that he relax a little. It was one of those little moments when he had to agree to not disappoint her.
"Okay, okay," he said, giving in. "I'll sit and see if some of your noise and unsuccessful dancing turns out to be funny. But don't take that as my full consent! I'll still stay away from all that nonsense."
Carlton chuckled, exhaled, and grabbed the remote.
"It's great that you're willing to do the bare minimum. And I promise I won't make you dance to Light My Fair. You certainly won't need any strength. But listen, I like that you're willing to at least try."
Emily, not missing the moment, stood up with a cheerful expression on her face and winked at Bobby.
"Yes, just be prepared for us to be with you all evening, at least in the form you agree to. So if you want to change something, you can always find us. We're not that scary."
Bobby sat in his chair, feeling the tension draining from his body. Emily seemed to have finally gotten her way: he didn't protest, didn't fidget, and didn't make the face of some philosopher who thought this whole party was pointless fuss. He even allowed himself to smile, although his thoughts were still swirling around the book he'd left in the room.
He imagined the events in The Chronicles of Captain Blood unfolding, and for a moment he even wanted to get up and go there, to that silence where there would be no Doors, no dancing, no euphoria. But he realized that something was wrong with him: this book had always been his refuge, but today he could not find the strength to shut himself off from the world.