Lexie

by Kimberly Dean

  There wasn’t much question where the billboard would be. It would be along the freeway heading out of downtown, going across the river. She knew, because that was where she would have put it. Merging with the traffic, she stayed in the right lane. The real question was whether it had been placed nearer to downtown or closer to the bar itself?

  She didn’t care. She’d find it.

  She put the car on cruise control as she scoured the roadway advertising. Reaching into her storage compartment, she found her sunglasses. The moment she slipped them on, a twinge of hurt slid through all that numbness. What was she doing, driving down the highway on a weekday morning, searching for a smutty picture board? Seriously. How had everything gone so out of whack? What had she done to deserve this? And when had Cameron Rowe appointed himself her defender? None of it made sense.

  Yet one thing was clear.

  The billboard was of her.

  She was on top of it before she knew it. Jamming on the brakes, she pulled over to the shoulder and simply stared. Cars whizzed by in the so-called slow lane only feet from her, but her attention on the gigantic billboard was unwavering.

  It was uncanny. Perching her sunglasses atop her head, she let in all the bright, glaring details. Not one was missed. The tiny birthmark on her right shoulder was there, although magnified a thousand times over. The woman’s dark hair had the same unusual auburn highlights as hers, and the face was a dead ringer. Lexie concentrated hard on the eyes. They made her uncomfortable—more than she’d like to admit—but what she saw was something she sometimes lacked. Confidence.

  Did sexy equal edgy? Was that what Rowe thought she didn’t have?

  Flustered, she looked elsewhere—but the only other place to look was lower. She blushed as she evaluated the model’s curves. She worked out religiously, but modesty would never allow her to wear something so revealing. Something that… Oh God. Heat flashed through her, and she leaned forward, squinting hard.

  Was that a nipple?

  She clapped her hand over her mouth. She got the controversy now. It was impossible to tell. The bustier was cherry red. It could be a frill of the lace…or maybe it wasn’t. One thing was for certain, it was a miracle that the illusion hadn’t caused a high-speed pileup. Going by the challenge in the woman’s eyes, she knew exactly what she was or wasn’t showing off. Lexie would never be capable of pulling off such a devilish smirk.

  But she was feeling pretty evil right now.

  Anger bubbled up inside her, overriding the hurt and confusion. This was slanderous…libelous…whichever applied. Either way, her reputation was being dragged through the mud. She wanted some answers and she wanted them now.

  Reaching over to her GPS, she punched in The Ruckus with a hand that was rock steady. When the address popped up on the screen, she nodded grimly. Nice location, right on the water in the heart of brawler territory.

  The Acura’s tires squealed as she pulled back into traffic. Someone at the bar should be able to tell her how this had all come to be. That billboard hadn’t gotten up there by itself. Someone had designed the ad, someone had worked on the graphics and somebody had paid for it.

  She wondered which Underhill’s name was beside the charge.

  Gritting her teeth, she headed across the Cobalt. Following the GPS’s instructions, she took the first off-ramp. Still, she cursed under her breath when a red light stopped her at the intersection. Another turn back towards the water slowed her down even further, and the road began twisting as it followed the natural course of the river. A few blocks later, she finally saw the neon sign for which she was searching.

  The Ruckus. Even dimmed for the day, it was impossible to miss. She pulled over to the curb to park. At this hour it wasn’t difficult to find a spot, but the spaces closest to the bar’s entrance were too small. She chose one farther down the street and looked at the tightly spaced, parallel white lines as she got out of the car.

  Her appearance was being used to push a biker bar. Great. Just perfect for the family-values crowd.

  She slammed the car door, and her heels clipped determinedly as she strode to the bar’s front door. The neighborhood was known for being rough but, in her mood, she was spoiling for a fight.

  She yanked on the front door, expecting it to be locked. She was surprised when it opened. Stepping inside, she found it too dark to see. She took off her sunglasses but, even then, it was a moment before her eyes could adjust to the dim lighting. The air inside the bar was cool, a welcome relief. Too bad the temperature was about to rise significantly for someone.

  Lexie searched for somebody to question. Someone to blame. Someone at whom she could yell.

  A big guy with a scruffy face and a muscle shirt was working on a light fixture. He’d do.

  She made a beeline for him, and he looked down from his perch atop a chair when he heard her. “Sorry, we’re closed. Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were…”

  His voice drifted off as he stared at her. He did a quick sweep down her body, and Lexie braced herself. She knew she wasn’t their normal clientele. In her suit and four-inch heels, she had to stand out like a sore thumb. Yet the man’s expression was more confused than anything.

  “What’re you doin’?” he asked.

  “I’d like to speak with the person in charge.”

  His look only turned more befuddled. He stood atop the chair, holding the light bulb in his fist as if a flash of insight would turn it on. “You mean Charlie?”

  “Sure. Charlie. Where would I find him?”

  “In the kitchen, like always.”

  Like always. “And that would be…?”

  The man’s face screwed up even more, and he pointed to the swinging half doors to her left. Lexie spun on her heel. She was marching in the direction he’d pointed when the doors suddenly swung open. A dark-haired woman strolled through the archway and into the bar area with her head down as she flipped through the day’s mail.

  So Charlie was female.

  Lexie stopped and folded her arms over her chest. Out of habit, she rocked her right foot back onto its heel. “Are you the person responsible for the billboard over the freeway?”

  The woman didn’t even look up. “No interviews. The moral minority can just sit and spin for all I care.”

  “I’m not here to interview. I’m here to sue.”

  A sultry laugh left the woman’s throat, and she tossed her long hair over her shoulder as her chin came up. “Oh, really. On what grounds—?”

  Their gazes connected, and time stopped. Slowed down Matrix-style and froze.

  Lexie forgot to breathe.

  So did the woman in front of her.

  She knew, because it was like staring into a mirror. The woman facing her was her exact replica, a true doppelganger. The toes of Lexie’s right foot slowly dropped back to the floor. She needed all the balance she could get, because her world was going topsy-turvy again.

  She started to shake her head to clear her vision, but she couldn’t look away. She and the woman in front of her were identical in every way. Height. Body type. Even hairstyle. The face gawking at her could have been her own.

  Identical.

  It took a moment. Longer than that, actually, before the concept sank in.

  Identical.

  Oh, dear God. No, it couldn’t be.

  Oxygen hit her lungs hard, burning them as she inhaled sharply. She’d always known she was adopted. She’d been reminded of the fact practically every day of her life. She’d been a brown-eyed brunette in a family of blue-eyed blondes. She was known as “the adopted one”, yet she’d never considered she might have a sister out there. She rejected the thought almost instantly, thinking of Blaire. A full-blooded sister, she amended. Flesh and blood.

  But it was more than that. This woman could be a twin.

  Floundering, Lexie reached out and caught the bar for support.

  Almost simultaneously, the mail in the woman’s hand slipped from her fingers to the floor. It splattere
d everywhere, sliding noisily, but nobody in the room paid attention to it.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  The tone was as aggressive and angry as the woman’s unblinking glare. It made Lexie flinch in surprise, and she clung to the bar a bit more tightly. “Lexie…” She stopped to clear her throat. “My name is Lexie Underhill.”

  The hard look on the other woman’s face melted, leaving her expression almost blank. Or stunned. Her chest rose and fell. “Lexie?” she repeated.

  Lexie nodded.

  “I’m Roxie,” the woman said.

  Lexie’s breath caught. Not Charlie at all.

  “Roxie Cannon.”

  Lexie and Roxie. Oh, sweet heaven. It just couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  They evaluated each other from head to toe, taking in details fast…then slowing down to make sure. Lexie had thrown on her favorite navy blue suit during her mad dash this morning, hoping it would bring her luck in the meeting. She’d never expected it would bring her luck like this. She watched this woman, a stranger who might have more in common with her than anybody else in the entire world. Roxie had on low-slung jeans with a metal-studded belt. It hugged her tightly, and so did the close-fitting black tank she wore. The body on that billboard hadn’t been airbrushed one stroke.

  Lexie couldn’t stop staring. Her replica was wearing high-heeled boots, while she was wearing high-heeled pumps. Roxie wore funky sterling-silver jewelry, while she wore a simple gold chain. Her reflection’s lips glistened with red lipstick, while her own were painted with a softer pink. Style-wise, they were night and day.

  Underneath it all, though, they were interchangeable.

  “I was adopted.” The words tumbled out of Lexie’s mouth. Without tact, with no tentative feeling-out period. In three small words, she asked the biggest question of her life. Yet they were all she could get out, and she wanted to know so badly.

  “I wasn’t,” Roxie replied.

  Lexie’s shoulders deflated. A rock of disappointment settled in her gut, and tears pricked at her eyes. Only seconds had passed. She’d just met this woman, yet a lifetime of hope had been lifted. She’d thought maybe…

  “Oh, no! No, no,” Roxie said, her brown eyes widening. Reaching out almost compulsively, she caught Lexie by the forearm. Her nails bit, but the grip was trembling. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I never got out of the foster care system.”

  Suddenly, Lexie felt as if she was keeping them both on their feet. If her hold on the bar faltered, they were both going down. Yet she was finding it hard to breathe. That rock in her stomach had jumped up into her chest.

  Her mind blanked. She didn’t know what to say or what to do.

  So they went back to staring at each other.

  Finally, she shook her head, too nervous to accept anything on face value—even her face. There were things she needed to know. Facts had to be checked. “When’s your birthday?”

  “April twelfth.” Roxie barely waited for her to nod in agreement before she fired back. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  They both let out shuddering breaths, yet it wasn’t enough. “Where were you born?” Lexie asked, drilling deeper.

  “Here in the Cobalt Valley, I think. Have you been in Cobalt City the whole time?”

  So close. They’d been so close their whole lives and hadn’t known it. “East Side.”

  Roxie’s lips pressed tight. “No surprise there.” Her gaze slid over the designer suit and high heels before she gestured at her surroundings with a nod. “Mostly west for me.”

  The ache in Lexie’s chest rose to her throat, making it hard to talk.

  Her doppelganger took the lead. “How tall are you out of those heels?”

  “Five foot five. That birthmark on your shoulder on the billboard?”

  Roxie pushed her right shoulder forward. “You mean this?” She looked at Lexie anxiously.

  Daring to let go of the bar, Lexie fumbled to undo her suit jacket. Rolling her shoulder, she tugged the jacket down to the crook of her arm. The light blue chemise she was wearing had spaghetti straps. Following Roxie’s gesture, she pointed at the mark on her own shoulder. A perfect, tiny replica.

  Roxie carefully reached out to touch the discoloration. She traced it twice before her eyes started blinking fast. “Is this really happening?” she whispered.

  “I think so,” Lexie whispered back.

  “Are you my sister?”

  “I think I’m your twin.”

  A sound left the back of Roxie’s throat, but then Lexie found herself pulled into a hug. She wrapped her arms around this stranger and clung. Oh God. It was happening. It was truly happening. She had blood, somebody who was hers that no paperwork or genetic test could ever deny. A sister. She had an identical twin!

  She squeezed harder, but Roxie already had her in a death grip. “Where were you?” she asked.

  Lexie stroked her hair. “I’m here now.”

  “I missed you.”

  “You knew I was out there?”

  Roxie shook her head and clenched her fist to her chest. “Here. I missed you here.”

  Lexie closed her eyes. She pressed her face into her sister’s hair and inhaled her spicy perfume. So had she. She just hadn’t known what it was she was missing.

  “Holy Je-sus.” The man with the scruffy face was looking at them like something out of Ripley’s Believe It or Not! “Charlie, get out here. We need alcohol. Pronto.”

  The handyman realized the light bulb was still popped up in his fist. He set it down and wiped his hands on his jeans. He grabbed a chair from atop a nearby table and flipped it over. The legs scraped loudly as he set it on the floor. Not caring, he did the same with another chair and patted the seat. “Sit. Sit before I fall over,” he ordered. “Char-leee.”

  An ebony face appeared over the top of the half doors. “Keep your britches on, Skeeter. I’ll be there in a—” The man’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as he saw Roxie in duplicate.

  “Look, boss.” Skeeter’s index finger waggled as he pointed again. “Look at this.”

  “Sweet mother,” Charlie hissed. “Hold on. I’ll get the bourbon.”

  Lexie and Roxie edged together towards the seats. They were both shaking so badly, they clung to each other to stay on their collective feet. At some point, they’d taken each other’s hand. Their fingers were interlocked, and neither was letting go.

  Lexie had so many questions, but emotions were colliding inside her chest. She didn’t know where to start. “We have to figure this out.”

  “Make sure,” her reflection agreed.

  “What’s to figure out?” Skeeter bent closer, and his gaze ran over the two of them, this time with less confusion and a lot more interest. “You’re the same right down to the boobies.”

  Roxie’s reflexes were quick. She reached out and bopped the man upside the head.

  “Hey,” he said, rubbing the spot. “It’s true.”

  “But you don’t have to say it out loud.” Roxie grabbed the back of the closest chair and dropped into it. She glanced at Skeeter as he moved outside of arm’s length. “Sorry. He’s a nice guy, but if he’s around long enough, you’ll eventually want to swat him.”

  Lexie sat in the other seat, her knees finally giving way. “Do you work here with him?”

  “Barmaid, manager and all-around utility player.”

  “Don’t forget model.” Lexie pushed her hair back with a shaky hand. She couldn’t believe this day. From bad to worse… She didn’t think so! For once, the hatchet man had been wrong.

  She stiffened. Why was he, of all people, popping into her head now? She shifted uncomfortably and concentrated on the here and now. She didn’t want to miss out on a moment of this. This day and place were going to be imprinted on her brain forever. “I hated that billboard an hour ago, but now I’m so glad you did it.”

  “The billboard. Right. That’s what brought you here.” Roxie nibbled at
her lower lip. “Has it been giving you problems?”

  Problems? Her family had practically disowned her because of that sensational shot, but all that seemed insignificant now. Problems could be fixed, but people didn’t find sisters every day. Lexie waved off the question. “I should have read the article in the newspaper.”

  Her gesture hitched midair. Had anyone taken time to actually read the article?

  “It wouldn’t have helped.” Roxie looked at their entwined hands and ran her thumb over Lexie’s pale pink nail polish. Her own fingernails were hot-rod red, yet she seemed as fascinated by their differences as she was by their similarities. “Charlie’s doing his best to keep my name out of the press.”

  “Yeah, but if any of those snooty reporters would come down here and interview the regulars, they’d have your name like that.” Skeeter snapped his fingers. He scratched his head as he studied them. “It’s like I’ve gone on a binge and I’m seeing double.”

  “You’ll be seeing four of them after we drink this.” Charlie came out from behind the bar. He handed out drinks to everybody and chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at the pair of them. “I’ll be damned.”

  Reaching out, he caught Lexie’s chin. She lifted it obediently as the man studied her. Finally, he just shook his head. “I take it neither of you knew about the other?”

  “No,” Roxie said, following it with a curse.

  Lexie swallowed hard. They’d been so close, yet so far away from each other. They’d grown up on opposite sides of the same city. Same city, but obviously very different lives. How much longer would they have remained in the dark about each other if not for that billboard?

  Would they have ever crossed paths?

  Roxie reached for her bourbon, and Lexie did the same. She took a stiff drink, throwing it back. It burned going down, but she needed it. Badly. If she’d felt like Alice down the rabbit hole before, it was nothing compared to what she felt now. She couldn’t stop sneaking peeks across the table. It was so bizarre to see herself sitting there, wearing those clothes and making gestures that were so familiar. It was like having an out-of-body experience. Anyone looking at Roxie would think it was her, plopped down into the wrong scene.