by Gary Jonas
I pointed at him. “It’s on your playlist.”
“Same thing, right?”
“Enough with the bullshit,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my room,” he said.
“Um. No. It’s my room.”
“I paid for it.”
I put my palm up to tell him to stop. “Answer my question.”
“Which one? Oh, I’ll answer all of them. You asked how I got in here. The answer is through the door. You asked if I was gay, and the answer is not really, though I might make an exception where you and I are concerned because it wouldn’t count, and I like new experiences. Finally, you asked what I was doing here, and the answer is: I was listening to Taylor Swift.”
“Blank Space” ended and “Style” began, which meant he was actually listening to the 1989 album. I rolled my eyes, then wondered how I knew the names of the songs. I’d never listened to the album, though I’d heard the hits, so he must have magicked the info into my head. And now I was using magic as a verb. Great.
“You’re not funny,” I said.
“I’m at least as funny as you. We are one, grasshopper.”
I shook my head, but the Taylor Swift knowledge remained in place. Why the hell would I ever need to know that the first song she learned to play on the guitar was “Cowboy Take Me Away” by the Dixie Chicks?
“Cut it out,” I said.
“Cut what out?” he asked, acting all innocent.
“The Taylor Swift trivia.”
Why?”
“Because it’s mean?”
He grinned. “Cute.”
I sighed, and changed the subject. “Is someone trying to kill you, me, or both of us?”
“Yes.”
“Which?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it kinda does.”
He shrugged. “Probably me, though it could be you since you’re not as well-liked as I am.”
“You don’t seem too concerned.”
His expression shifted, and I realized he might actually be concerned, but he hid the worry quickly. “We’re both alive,” he said.
“No thanks to the snipers.”
He glanced toward the window, but the curtains were closed. “They couldn’t have been real snipers. You’re still alive. Real snipers would have taken you out.”
“They were real enough.”
“As real as you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Are you feeling like you’re about to crumble to sand yet?”
“Why would I feel that way?”
“Because I removed the spell to keep you together.”
I rolled my eyes. “You never cast that spell.”
“Sure I did. Why else would you have been in one piece?”
“Because I’m the real me.”
He shook his head. “Still thinking that in spite of all the evidence to the contrary? Brett, my boy, I’m the real Brett Masters. I studied magic in secret while Dad had you out here to distract the Council.” He rolled up his left sleeve. “The proof is in the tattoo.”
“That doesn’t prove anything except you got a tattoo.”
“It says I’m genuine.”
“It could just as easily say, Born to be Mild.”
“Better than Born to be Mildew.”
“Mold would be funnier. You can’t even do humor correctly. Is Dad trying to kill me?”
“Are you dead?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then he’s not trying to kill you.”
“Then who is? The Matriarch? Gideon?”
“Why ask me?”
“Because you sent me to take your place for the shows where there were attempts on my life.”
He tilted his head. “By that reasoning, they were trying to kill me, not you.”
“Why?”
“To keep me from taking the test?”
“When is that test?”
“Whenever Dad approves it.”
“Can you turn off the Taylor Swift now?”
He grinned, but turned the music off. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
“Before you ask, Father hasn’t told me when I can take the test. I think he was waiting until the beginning of the full moon, but that’s just a guess.”
“Why would he wait for the full moon?”
“Because one part of the test is to use magic to cure a werewolf.”
“Bullshit,” I said.
“What do you think the test consists of?”
“How should I know?”
“Then you don’t know it doesn’t include curing a werewolf.”
“That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing the test would have.”
“Exactly. That’s why it’s part of the test. Who would think to prepare for that?”
“You?” I asked.
“Father told me it was part of the test.”
“He hasn’t told me diddly,” I said.
“Because you’re not his real son. You’re a placeholder. You’re a distraction. You’re a blank space.”
“Cute.”
“Taylor Swift is welcome at my place anytime,” he said.
“And if I turn you into a pile of sand?”
He spread his arms. “Go for it, Brett. Take your best shot.”
“I’d rather take a nap,” I said.
“That would make you late to see Lakesha.” He smiled. “Yes, she told me you called her.”
“I don’t care about that,” I lied. Why did she tell him? Why did I care?
“That’s the beauty of this whole situation,” he said, hopping to his feet. He patted me on the back. “You actually do care. Who’d have guessed that a doppelgänger could have real feelings?”
“You’re the doppelgänger, damn it!”
“You go right on believing that,” he said. “And I’ll point out that I warned you about the danger, so you can’t throw that on me.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
He stopped by the door and turned around. “I’m going home now. Feel free to drop by to see Lakesha. You might bring some cat food for Isis while you’re at it.”
“I’m not bringing cat food.”
“And you wonder why Isis hates you.”
“Get the hell out of here, Copycat.”
“My pleasure. Join me for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll send a driver to pick you up at seven. His name is Gideon. I believe you’ve met.”
I glared at him, but didn’t say anything.
He pointed to the headphones. “You can keep those. Oh, and I’m sorry someone tried to shoot you. See you tomorrow night.”
And he walked out the door.
I stared at the closed door and wondered what the hell was going on. What kind of game was my father playing?
I sat on the bed. I could go to Lakesha’s, but now I was irritated that she told the other Brett about our call. She could wait. The old me would have been late regardless, so I would be later. I put the headphones on, stretched out on the bed, and clicked start. Taylor Swift sang me to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“You know I’m the real me because I’m late,” I said.
Lakesha stared at me from behind her sales counter. As usual, there was nobody in the store. If not for my old man, she’d be out of business.
Isis glared at me, then raised one leg high in the air, bent over and licked her own ass.
Lakesha shook her head. “You’re an idiot,” she said.
I was intentionally late, of course. After talking to my clone, I wanted to make sure we were easy to tell apart. I wore shorts and a Five Finger Death Punch tour t-shirt I’d bought at a concert in Jacksonville, Florida. My duplicate wouldn’t be caught dead in a shirt like that.
“Help me out, Lakesha. You’re being paid to teach me, so teach me how to prove I’m the real me.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said, motioning for me to approach the counter.
&nbs
p; I moved closer.
She winked at me. “I don’t give a shit.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father signed a contract with me for a full year’s service. I pulled it out of my file and re-read it to be sure, and I’ll get paid for the rest of the term regardless.”
“So you’ll just let me die?”
“Who said anything about dying?”
“People are trying to kill me.”
“What did you do to them?” she asked.
“What makes you think I did anything?”
“If people are trying to kill you, odds are you did something to piss them off.”
“Way to be on my side.”
“What does it matter? You’d be late to your own execution.”
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“I don’t hate you, Brett. Isis does, though.”
Isis growled at me.
“Fuck off, cat,” I said.
Isis tried to scratch me, but I expected it and jerked my hand away.
My hand smacked against a wooden jewelry rack and sent a few ankh necklaces flying.
I shook my hand. “Son of a bitch that hurts.”
“Should have let her scratch you. Pick those up.”
“This is how you treat me after all we’ve been through together?” I asked, but I did bend over to pick up the fallen necklaces.
“You’ve been a pain in my ass from day one. The other Brett is respectful.”
“He’s a douche.”
She held out an open hand. “He wouldn’t use that word in front of a lady.”
I dropped the necklaces on her palm but I knew better than to take the verbal bait. “So you’re not going to help me?”
Lakesha closed her hand, and caught my fingers with hers. She stared into my eyes a moment, quizzically. As if she were trying to determine whether or not I had a soul.
The door to the shop opened and a young woman in black stepped inside. Lakesha released my fingers, and put the necklaces back on the rack.
I glanced over at the potential customer. “Sorry, lady, we’re closed,” I said.
“Ignore him,” Lakesha said. “He doesn’t work here. What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for a good book about astrology,” the woman said.
“Astrology is nonsense,” I said.
“Once again, ignore him,” Lakesha said, and left the counter to meet the woman in the aisle. “Our astrology section is right over here. Are you looking for books on charts? Sign compatibility for relationships? Something more general?”
“My friend told me to get something by Karen Curry,”
“I’m willing to bet this is the one you want,” Lakesha said, taking a book down from the shelf. “It’s called Understanding Human Design, and it’s very good.”
“I’ll take it.”
The woman stepped up to the counter, and Lakesha rang up the sale then slipped the book into a paper bag.
“Cute cat,” the woman said.
“Mean cat,” I said.
The woman gave me a dirty look, and scratched Isis under the chin. Naturally, the cat purred.
“Traitor,” I said to Isis.
And of course, Isis hissed at me.
The woman laughed. “Seems you were designed to be hated by animals of the feline persuasion.”
“Maybe you can give me lessons on how to be more attractive to kitty cats,” I said.
She shook her head. “I only date real men.”
And she left the store.
Lakesha laughed. “It’s like she knows you.”
“Like I care what some star chart chick thinks.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“Whatever. Are you going to help me?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want to get my life back.”
“You still have your life.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Really?” she asked. “Are you working a regular job?”
“No.”
“Are you living in a nice place?”
“I’m staying in a hotel right now.”
“A nice hotel?”
“I guess.”
“Can you afford to eat well?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you able to take naps?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then what are you bitching about, Brett?”
“Someone’s living in my house.”
She shook her head. “Wasn’t your house.”
“But I was living there.”
“You can get another place.”
“But I liked that house. I had some cool shit in that house. Speaking of which, I wonder what happened to all my stuff.”
“Check with Sabrina.”
“I want my friends back.”
Her eyes went wide. “You had friends?”
“Very funny.”
Lakesha put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. “What’s Chuck’s wife’s name?”
I stood there in silence.
“That’s what I thought.”
“That wasn’t a fair question. I don’t go to Chuck’s house, and his wife has never been to one of the shows.”
“Yes she has.”
“Well, Chuck didn’t introduce me.”
“Fine,” she said. “Where does Teddy live?”
I gave her more silence.
“Mmm hmm,” she said. “Name Michael’s favorite band.”
“Lacuna Coil?”
“Wrong.”
“Black Sabbath.”
“You only get one shot,” she said.
“Oh, come on.”
“When is my birthday?”
“How should I know?”
“Fine. What’s my sign?”
“Wet paint,” I said.
“The truth is you care only about yourself.”
“I know Demetrius likes comic books.”
“Most kids do. You haven’t taken an interest in anyone around you. That’s why everyone likes the other Brett so much better. He asks us about our lives. He remembers what we say. He cares enough to give birthday presents, and to help out when someone has a problem.”
“That was a lot of words,” I said.
“And that proves my point, child. You’ve learned a few magic tricks, but you aren’t a real friend to anyone. Even now, you came in here and didn’t ask me about my day or how I’ve been. You didn’t notice my hair.”
“I noticed that you still have hair.”
“But you didn’t notice the new style.”
“Oh, I love what you’ve done to your hair,” I said.
“I didn’t change my hair, Brett.”
“So you’re trying to pull a fast one.”
“I’m making a point. You’re just a spoiled little rich kid, and while I don’t think you’re going to turn to sand the way the other Brett says you will, I don’t think you bring anything of value to any of your so-called friends.”
“How do you really feel?”
“I’m getting over a cold, actually.”
“You don’t have a spell for that?”
“I do, but it takes a few days to kick in.”
“Well, I hope you feel better soon,” I said.
She grinned. “That’s a step in the right direction.”
“You aren’t getting over a cold, are you?”
“No, but at least you reacted like a real person for a change.”
“And you’re still not going to help me.”
“I just did.”
“Somehow I missed it. Can you enlighten me?”
“I’ll spell it out for you, Brett. If you care about others, they’re more likely to care about you. Life is about the connections we make with other people.”
“Great,” I said. “I get the motivational pep talk nonsense. Just what I needed.”
“You probably need a Dale Carnegie class, but you’d sleep through it.”
“Classes are too much like school.”
“I’m going to close up. A gentleman friend is taking me to dinner tonight.”
“Lucky you,” I said.
“Lucky him,” she said. “Get on out of here, Brett.”
“So what is Michael’s favorite band?”
“I don’t know.”
“So for all you know, I was right.”
“I doubt that. Get your ass out of here.”
I walked to the door, pushed it open, then turned back toward her.
“One more question,” I said. “When is your birthday?”
“None of your business,” she said, but at least she smiled.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The next evening, I stepped out of the hotel, and Gideon drove up in his limo. He rolled down the passenger side window.
“Get in,” he said.
“I don’t get the star treatment?” I asked.
“Get in the car, Brett.”
“Rude much?” I asked, but I opened my own door and climbed into the back seat.
Gideon started driving before I’d even closed the door.
“Dude,” I said. “You could at least let me get into the car before you take off.”
“You’re late. I have to make up for lost time.”
I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the seat separating us. The window between the back and front was open. “Yeah, you were supposed to keep me in line, right?”
He glanced at me in the rearview.
I smiled. “If only you could have remained closer to me,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.
“I still have your ring.” I didn’t tell him it was now on the dresser in my hotel room.
“I don’t need it,” he said.
“I thought you wanted to stay within ninety feet of me.”
“Not anymore. And for the record, it was ninety-four feet.”
“What do you mean, not anymore?”
“Sit back in your seat, Brett. I’m driving and I don’t want to talk to you.”
“But I’m all geared up for a conversation. You work for my twin.”
He pushed a button and the window between the back and front started to close.
“Hey,” I said, moving my arms away.
“I’ll have you at the restaurant in ten,” he said and the window clicked into place.
I knocked on it. “Open up.”
He flipped me off.
Charming.
Was it worth blood to continue the conversation? Not really. I didn’t bother to magic the window open. Instead, I leaned back, and adjusted my collar. I’d chosen a navy blazer to go with my white shirt, and tan slacks. I wasn’t big on dressing up for dinner, but the other me had reservations for dinner at Fisherman’s Wharf over on the harbor, and I knew he wouldn’t go for a casual look. I wanted people to wonder which of us was which.