by Sierra Rose
Chapter 8
After the bar came another bar. Then another one after that. Then one more after that, before Dylan decided they needed to up their game and they ducked into a nightclub.
The flashing lights pulsed across Logan’s face—illuminating it in neon shades of purple, blue, and green as the room began to gently spin. He threw out a hand, latching onto Dylan for balance and as he headed for the bar—but Dylan only smiled, pulling him the other direction.
“Come on—we’re dancing.”
Logan’s head whipped around with a drunken chill.
“Wait—what? No, I don’t—”
He might as well have saved his breath. The next second, the two of them were swept away in the crowd, rising and falling with the pounding beats as the music picked up and the room around them took flight.
It was unlike anything Logan had ever done before. Not since his days as a rebellious teenager—days when he’d make it a regular occurrence to sneak out of his parents’ two-bedroom house and frequent Miami’s underage clubs—had he seen such a spectacle.
And this...? This blew that out of the water.
Scantily clad bodies twisted and writhed—leaping into the air, before coming back down to grind up against one another. The air outside might have had a frosty chill, but the club was hot. Thick with fog machines and sweat. Logan’s first assessment, as random as it might have been, was that most of these people would have fit right in at a club in Miami.
He’d only been out there a few seconds, when he felt a pair of warm hands wrap around his waist. His blonde hair fell into his eyes as he tried to twist around, but whoever had grabbed him was playing games, ducking and giggling to keep out of sight. The hands slipped down a bit lower, squeezing onto his hips, before a beautiful woman finally popped up in front of him.
“Surprise!” she squealed.
“Uh...yeah. It certainly is.”
Logan’s eyes widened in spite of themselves, and he made a concerted effort not to look anywhere beneath her chin. Apparently, clubs in Cleveland were clothing optional. Her slender body was wrapped in what looked like a chainmail bikini that drifted down into a gauzy scarf that wrapped once or twice around her hips before vanishing into thin air. Aside from triggering all sort of adolescent Princess Leia fantasies, Logan was intrigued.
He held out his hand, swaying drunkenly as he tried to make a regular introduction. But before he could say a word, she jumped up on her toes and planted a kiss right on his lips.
Before he could recover from that—she slapped him. Hard.
“The kiss is for the other night.” She folded her arms across her chest, eyes glittering malevolently in the darkness. “The slap is for the next morning.”
Logan raised his hand to his cheek in a daze, unable to figure out which extreme had thrown him more. On face value, he assumed the girl must simply be crazy. Then he heard his brother’s distant laugh, and the truth of what was happening slowly dawned on him.
“Oh—miss, this isn’t what you think.” He pointed desperately behind him to where Dylan was dancing, sandwiched between two gyrating women. “You’re confusing me with my brother. My twin brother, actually. He’s the one you—”
Another slap. This one was even harder than the first.
“Really?” Her eyebrows lifted dangerously up into her hair, making her look like some kind of murderous, sci-fi pixie. “Your twin brother?”
Logan took a discreet step back, eyeing her hands warily. “Yeah, I know it sounds a little hard to believe—”
“You don’t need excuses, baby.” He let out a quiet gasp as her hand flew out once more, this time, grabbing him right between the legs. “I just wanted you to call me, is all.”
One second, her fingers were on top of his pants. The next, they had slipped somehow inside. He let out another gasp and his spine stiffened in surprise, but between the copious amounts of booze and the shock of it all, he found himself quite unable to move. Her lips tickled his ears as she gave him a little squeeze, stretching up on her toes with a smile.
“You know where to find me. We can pick up right where we left off...”
Before he could say a single word, she vanished into the crowd—leaving him feeling anxious, confused, and slightly aroused all at the same time. He froze where he stood, eyes scanning the darkness as he tried to recover the ability to speak. When he came up empty, he stumbled back through the crowd, pushing his way through the sweaty patrons to grab his brother roughly by the shoulder—pulling him away from his adoring harem.
“I’m leaving. Catch you the next time I’m in Cleveland.”
He was gone before his brother could stop him, pushing his way through a sea of drunken faces before he finally made it to the door. A cloud of whiskey followed him as his feet finally hit the pavement, dissipating quickly in the chilly night air. It was the middle of July, but no one had told Cleveland. His thin shirt and Miami temperament offered little protection as he folded his arms tightly across his chest, shivering in the cold.
Well, you tried. You met him—and you tried. Just call him and keep in contact.
With a heavy heart, he lifted a hand to hail down a taxi. Only to have it immediately swatted out of the air as Dylan raced up behind him, reeking of women and booze.
“Why the hell are you leaving?” he asked with genuine concern, waving away a taxi that had been starting to pull over as he angled Logan purposefully away from the street. “I thought we were having a good time.”
“We were.” Logan pulled himself free. “Before I got accosted and groped by some dark cosplay princess who thought I was you.”
Dylan’s face lightened in understanding, then froze, thinking hard.
“...Asian?”
Logan gritted his teeth, his jaw turning to chiseled stone. “No.”
His brother nodded wisely. “Lexi, then. Don’t worry, she’s totally harmless.” Logan raised his eyebrows, and he quickly amended, “Okay—she’s mostly harmless. What did she want anyway? Did she give you a message for me?”
Logan’s eyes sparkled with malice, as he cocked his head with a dangerous smile.
“Oh—we didn’t get that far. But yeah, she did give me a message.”
Without a second’s pause, he took a step forward and slapped his brother right across the face. There was a sharp crack as Dylan’s hair whipped across his forehead, only partially hiding the angry red welt rising up beneath.
Dylan brought a hand up to his cheek, wincing apologetically. “Yeah, that sounds like Lexi—”
Another slap. His hair flew the other way.
“Okay...that sounds like Lexi.” His eyes watered involuntarily as Logan stepped back with a self-satisfied grin. A second later, Dylan was grinning as well. “That was it?”
“Well, there was a nicer part to it,” Logan said dryly, “but we don’t really know each other well enough for all that. Maybe on our next visit.”
Dylan chuckled under his breath, wincing again as he looked his brother up and down with an appraising smile. “You hit pretty fucking hard for a suit. You feel better?”
Logan stuck his hands in his pockets, grinning all the while. The crazy thing was, he actually did. He felt a lot better. The night air had cleared away some of his drunken stupor, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he felt very much alive. His skin was flushed, his heart was racing, and he was able to see the humor in things. Able to see the fun.
“Much. In fact, I think I could get used to being you.” He flashed his brother a mischievous grin. “At any rate, I’d come back with a few stories...”
He expected Dylan to laugh. Expected him to at least smile. But Dylan was doing none of those things. Quite the contrary, he was looking at Logan like he’d never quite seen him before.
“Yeah. You would.” His head tilted ever so slightly to the side, as an indecipherable expression flitted across his handsome face. “So would I.”
A little light started twinkling in his eyes. Growing
brighter by the moment.
“Logan...how would you feel about going on a little vacation?”
Chapter 9
“Switch places? Are you serious? You actually want to switch places?!”
Logan and Dylan sat in an all-night coffee house across the street. Trying to sober up in the bright, caffeinated fluorescence. The espresso was doing wonders for one of them. The other had yet to touch his cup.
“Just for two weeks,” Dylan answered quickly, nudging Logan’s mug coaxingly into his hands. “Two weeks, then we go back to our old lives. No one will be the wiser.” His brother flashed a doubtful look, that he returned with a persuasive smile. “Oh, come on—it’ll be perfect. You want to know what it’s like to live the regular nine-to-five domestic, I want to know what it’s like to play on a five-million-dollar yacht. Win-win! What do you think?”
“I think you read too much Mark Twain as a child.”
Dylan paused a moment, then his face lightened with a look of sunny understanding.
“The Prince and Pauper. Solid reference.” His smile dimmed a bit. “Although I’m not wild about the ‘pauper’ comparison. It’s construction, Logan. Not ditch-digging.”
Logan ignored this, focusing on the bigger problem. “We can’t just switch lives, Dylan. It’s not like swapping cars. People are going to notice.”
“Like who?” Dylan leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t have a steady girlfriend, no one regular who might check up on me. And from the sounds of it, you don’t either. We’ll both take a two-week hiatus from our jobs—because there’s no way in hell you could handle mine—and you’ll send your staff on an all-expense paid cruise. It’s perfect. And I’m going to teach you how to be fun again.”
Logan opened his mouth for an automatic retort, then stopped suddenly—circling back.
“Wait a second—you think I couldn’t handle your job?” He stared across the table with a reluctant grin, blown away by his brother’s brazen arrogance. “You think you could handle the day to day operations of an international corporation, but I’d have trouble swinging a hammer?”
Dylan stared back with brotherly patience. “I think you’ve knocked over the salt shaker three times since we sat down. Yeah—little brother. I think you’re a klutz.”
“I am not—”
“But our jobs aren’t going to be a factor—this isn’t about that,” Dylan continued. “It’s about everything else. It’s about what happens the second we’re off the clock.”
Off the clock. Logan was sure he had heard that phrase somewhere before, he just couldn’t quite remember where. Wherever it was, he was pretty certain it didn’t exist down in Florida.
“Think about it...” Dylan’s eyes twinkled as his brother began to waver, reaching out to grab him by the wrists. “When was the last time you took a late-night stroll? Went on a casual date, saw a random movie? Hell—when’s the last time you slept in past seven am?”
Logan stared down at the table, unable to believe he was actually listening to what the man was proposing. Unable to believe it was actually starting to make sense.
“You need a break from your life. Come enjoy life in my shoes. You want to cut back on that hundred-hour work week and smell the roses? I have a nest of them in my backyard.” Dylan’s face tightened thoughtfully. “On that note, you’ll have to water them. Oh—and my dog. You’ll have to take care of my dog.”
Logan glanced up warily. He didn’t do well with animals.
“You have a dog?”
“Spartacus.” Dylan said with a fond smile. “He’s a little angel. You’ll hardly even notice he’s there.” The smile widened as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, you’ll be having the time of your life—feasting your eyes on curtains, and scrabble boards, and whatever other drab things you secretly crave. And in the meantime, I will be having the time of my life on the sunny beaches of Miami. Tiny bikinis, lavish parties, maybe a long weekend in Bermuda—”
“Not Bermuda,” Logan said suddenly. “It’s hurricane season. You go to the Caribbean in the spring.”
Dylan froze dead still, perched on the edge of his chair. “Does that mean...” His eyes locked onto his brother, hoping beyond hope, “Does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll dump your quest for world domination...at least for two weeks? Because I think you’re hitting burnout. You’re spent. It’s why you’re even considering this. It’s time to discover a better life.”
“Maybe money isn’t the key to happiness.”
“It’s not. I’m happy and carefree, and I don’t have a dime in my savings account.”
“I need this.”
“I know you do. I might not be rich or live in a mansion but I’m happy. And I know you can be too. You just need to learn balance. So are you ready to see what my life is like?”
Logan stared back at him with equal apprehension, unable to move. The room tilted dizzily, and it took him a second to realize he’d been holding his breath.
“I’ve worked very hard to get to where I am today,” he said slowly, choosing each word with measured care. “There’s an entire kingdom waiting back in Florida. You have to promise not to tear it down in fourteen days—”
His stern warning was interrupted with a wild cheer, as Dylan launched himself across the table—catching his brother in a giant, undignified hug.
“Holy shit! I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed, taking Logan’s coffee without a thought and downing it himself. “I thought I was going to have to work all night to convince you!”
Logan grinned in spite of himself. Dylan’s energy was so contagious, it was impossible not to catch some of it himself. But that grin faded as the logistics of what they were about to attempt caught up with him tenfold. Along with all the risks.
“Absolutely no work whatsoever,” he warned. “You are going to be officially off the grid on vacation, not to be disturbed under any circumstance. If there’s some sort of emergency, you call me. Don’t try to handle it yourself.” There was a pause. “You have to swear it, Dylan.”
Dylan held up two fingers in a solemn oath, looking remarkably like a boy scout who’d wandered too far off the reservation and ended up in some gritty Cleveland club. “On my honor. And you have to promise to enjoy life. Because from what you’ve told me, your life completely revolves around your job. And that has to change. I want you to watch television, get a good night’s sleep, sleep in, climb a mountain, go to the movies, walk in the park and enjoy the sunshine on your face. No sneaking in work. No emails. No PDA’s. No laptops. No computers. No phone calls. Unless it’s from me.”
“I can do that.”
“You say you can. But I don’t know if I trust a workaholic’s word. You’re addicted to work, and I think it’s hurting you. Now, there’s nothing wrong with a strong work ethic. But you’ve taken it a step too far. You know, even God rested on the seventh day.”
“No work. I give you my word.”
“Can I make you a reformed workaholic?”
“I doubt it. But I promise not to work for two weeks as discussed.”
“I could be saving your life here.”
Logan rolled his eyes, but stuck to the basics. “You can fly home on the jet. I’ll send out some texts to the staff—tell them to vacate for the next two weeks. Here,” he fished around in his pocket and pulled out a black credit card, the kind not open to the general public, “take it.”
Dylan reached for it curiously. “What’s this?”
“It’s for you.” Logan flashed a crooked smile, gazing across the table at his long-lost twin. “You said you wanted to live the high life, right? You’ll need some money.” A sudden wave of panic settled upon him, and he almost snatched it right back. “Just...keep yourself out of the papers, okay? Nothing shady, be discreet. I have a reputation to protect.”
Dylan pocketed the card with a little wink. “Your reputation is safe with me.”
“Good,” Logan said abruptly. “Now what about you?”
&
nbsp; “What about me?”
“You have any things that I should know? You don’t have a wife, right? Any kids?” His eyes flickered across the street to the club. “Any other disgruntled mistresses...?”
“No wife. No kids...that I know about. Lots of mistresses. But I’ll take care of them.” He leaned back with a casual smile. “You should be fine.”
Logan looked at him suspiciously, worried it couldn’t possibly be that easy.
“...yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dylan stretched out his arms with a smile. “You’re going to love Cleveland. Great scenery, right on the water. Just sleep in, get takeout, and curl up in bed with a good book—or with a not-so-ladylike lady. Trust me—you’ll never want to come back.”
Logan buried his face in his hands, as his brother called for the check.
“I must be out of my fucking mind...”
Chapter 10
Logan stared at the slip of paper in his hand. Then up at the house. Then back down at the slip of paper. This was it? This was the place where Dylan lived?
...it was perfect.
The two had stayed the night at a hotel downtown. Giving themselves a few hours to sober up and go over any other logistical details before launching into their little scheme. While Dylan had spent most of that time down at the pool, picking up women, Logan had spent it in his room, lost in thought, staring down at the brand-new house key in his hand.
Was this a terrible idea? Some sort of quarter-life crisis?
Dylan seemed to think it was all in good fun, that nothing bad could possibly happen. But despite having taken an instant liking to him, Logan had to admit that his long-lost brother couldn’t exactly be counted upon as a ‘voice of reason.’
It also didn’t help that, while Logan was balancing the weight of a small empire upon his shoulders, Dylan had nothing to lose. The man lived paycheck to paycheck, had a rotating series of houseguests, and was renting the place where he lived from a woman he admitted he had charmed into letting him sign the lease. Everything about him was up to chance. Spontaneous. Decided on a whim. Logan was...a little different than all that.