The Lame-Assed Doppelganger Page 11
They folded their arms and stood their ground.
I started to move forward, but one of them put a hand on my chest and shoved me backward against one of the stalls.
“Wait,” he said.
A soft rap sounded on the door.
“Enter,” one of the shark dudes said.
A slender woman in an elegant evening gown slipped into the men’s room. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun, and while she didn’t sport a lot of wrinkles, she was clearly over sixty. “Mr. Masters,” she said and gave me a nod.
“In the flesh,” I said.
She stared at me a moment, then turned to the shark dudes. “Which one is he?”
“He’s the extra.”
“Where’s the real Mr. Masters?”
“I’m right here,” I said.
She shushed me.
“He slipped out,” the shark dude said.
“He’s avoiding me?”
“So it would seem.”
“Hey, lady,” I said.
She glared at me. “I don’t want to talk to you,” she said.
“I don’t give a shit,” I said.
She winced. “Don’t use profanity in my presence.”
“Fuck you, lady.”
“You want us to take him apart?” the main shark dude asked.
“No. That’s not your job.”
“What’s your job?” I asked.
“Let’s go,” she said.
The main shark dude pulled on the handle to open the door, but it remained closed. He tugged harder. “It’s stuck.”
The other shark dude tried to open the door.
“What’s the matter?” I asked with a grin. “Can’t open a door?”
The main shark dude moved toward me, but he ran into the shield I’d erected around myself. He tried to push through, but couldn’t.
“Shark boys, you two can share a stall,” I said, pointing.
“I think not,” the woman said.
“Not your call. This is my rodeo, now. Get into a stall, boys.”
The woman put a hand on the closest shark dude’s shoulder. “Wait by the door, Josh,” she said.
“Josh is a shitty name for a Mako,” I said.
“Who asked you?” Josh said.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “I like the name Josh. Sounds like a nice guy. But a shark dude should have a tougher name. Something like Kelton or Raker.”
“It’s all right, Josh, he’s trying to upset you,” the woman said. “I’ll handle this.”
“No offense, lady, but you’re a little too old to handle me. I prefer my women younger than dirt.”
“Is that supposed to be a sexual retort?” she asked.
“You gonna report me to H.R.?”
“I have great grandchildren older than you, Mr. Masters. I’ve been controlling men since before women were allowed to vote.”
“Killer Queen from the Byzantine?”
“I’m not that old,” she said, though she didn’t sound offended. “Do you know my name?”
“Phyllis?”
She shook her head. “I’m known primarily by my title. I am the Matriarch.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“You may call me Mrs. Masters. I’m your great-great grandmother.”
“Nice to meet you, Granny,” I said.
“You will show me some respect, young man.”
“You hire bodyguards who can’t even open a bathroom door.”
She grinned and made a motion with one finger.
The door swished open easily in spite of my spell.
“So you were testing me.”
“We’re always testing you.” She snapped her fingers and the two Mako Clansmen disappeared in twin puffs of smoke. “And I don’t need bodyguards.”
She snapped her fingers again and we were no longer in the restroom. Instead, we stood on the deck of the Tall Ship Elissa.
“We’re not supposed to be here,” I said, trying to cover my surprise. “It’s after hours.”
“How about here?” she asked.
She didn’t bother to snap her fingers this time, but we suddenly appeared fifty feet in the air hovering over Galveston Channel.
“I liked the ship better,” I said. “At least there I had something to stand on.”
Blood filled my mouth, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold myself in the air. I hadn’t worked on that kind of magic. I could blow shit up and throw some energy around, but levitation was not in my limited wheelhouse.
“Are you afraid?” she asked.
“You going to send me to Davy Jones’ Locker?” I asked.
“Are you afraid?” she repeated.
“Should I be?”
“It’s a long drop.”
“Will being scared help me?” I asked.
She shook her head. “You don’t matter that much to me, Brett. However, I’m impressed that you’ve made it this far. You’ve had a few attempts on your life in the past few days and yet, here you are.”
“Hovering,” I said.
“Don’t look down,” she said.
“If I do, I’ll drop like Wile E. Coyote off a cliff?”
A chill wind whipped through my hair. My toes pointed toward the water, and there was nothing to support me. I felt like a kite getting blown about up there.
“There’s an important test going on,” she said. “You’re not supposed to be part of it.”
“Then leave me out of it,” I said. “I’d be happy to go back to Fiji. Or I can go to Europe or New Zealand or Australia.”
“There are rules. Brett is in violation of those rules. Your father was supposed to set the boundaries, and the test was to be carried out, but things have not gone the way they were scheduled.”
I wanted to tell her that was a lot of words, but she might drop me in the Channel.
“There are two of you,” she said.
I nodded.
“Which of you is the original?”
I shrugged. “A week ago, I’d have said I was the one and only. Now, I’d like to buy a clue.”
“You can’t afford a clue, young man.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“Your twin tricked you,” she said. “He’s avoiding me because he’s afraid, but he left you in his stead.”
I nodded. “He didn’t seem to be afraid.” That wasn’t entirely true, but it seemed like the thing to say.
“And yet, he disappeared and left you to face me.”
I shrugged. “He’s good at that.”
“The test was designed for him, not for you.”
“I’m happy to let him take it.”
“I’d tell you to go away and let him. But part of me thinks, why? You’ve made it this far, and you didn’t even know you were being tested.”
That wasn’t entirely true. My father was always testing me. It’s just that I normally tried to nap through those tests. I didn’t want to tell her that, though, so I simply shrugged.
“Your father, my great grandson, chose the other you to take the test. Tell me the truth here, Brett. Why did he choose the other version of you?”
“I can hazard a guess,” I said. “But to be sure, you’d have to ask my old man.”
“Very well. Best guess.”
“My father wants someone he can be proud of, and that’s not me.”
“Why not?”
My face burned from the cold wind. My fingers hurt, and I shivered. “We value different things.”
“What do you value, Brett?”
“Freedom.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nobody’s free, Brett. Even I am bound to tasks I’d rather not undertake. After all, I’m here talking to you.”
“I’m pretty good at avoiding things I don’t like.”
“And yet, here you are, fifty feet above the water, utterly helpless.”
“Are you going to drop me?” I asked.
“You don’t seem to be afraid in spite of your predicament.”
<
br /> “Well, you’re either going to drop me or you’re not.”
“And you don’t care which?”
“If the choice is up to me, I’d rather not fall.”
“Do you love your father?”
Why did she ask that? I hesitated before I replied. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Simple question, Brett. Do you love him?”
I hesitated again. “I don’t know,” I said.
“How can you not know?”
“I don’t know what love is.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Do you like your father?”
“Hell no,” I said. “He’s an asshole.”
“Language,” she said.
“Well, it’s true,” I said. “If saying he’s an asshole means you’re going to drop me, then get it over with, because he really is an asshole.”
She nodded. “Yes, he is.” She stared at me for a few moments. “Let’s go back.”
And we were instantly standing on the sidewalk in front of Fisherman’s Wharf.
“You can swallow that blood now,” she said.
I did.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“What do you want to happen?”
Was she trying to play my shrink? “I want to wake up and find myself in a nice house with a beautiful woman who adores me, and the knowledge that I never have to see anyone in my family ever again.”
“Good luck with that,” she said, and disappeared.
I wished I could travel like that.
Instead, I pulled out my phone, opened an app, and arranged a ride back to my hotel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I picked up a bottle of Jameson before the liquor stores closed, and went up to my hotel room. I emptied my pockets onto the dresser and pulled the bottle of whiskey out of the paper bag.
Two glasses of Jameson later, I was ready to start making phone calls.
First call.
“Hello, Brett,” the other Brett said.
“How the hell are you, Brett?” I asked.
“Pretty good,” he said. “I was just about to go to bed. I’m reading a wonderful Sherlock Holmes novel right now.”
“I don’t care what you’re reading,” I said.
“You’re upset.”
“You’re a chickenshit little fucktard.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Do you have a mirror nearby?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Look in the mirror.”
“Why?”
“Because then you’ll be looking at a chickenshit little fucktard and you’ll know what one is.”
He sighed. “I should have warned you about Old Woman Masters.”
“Is that what you call her?”
“Well, not to her face.”
“How do you know she’s not listening?”
“Oh shit. Is she?”
I laughed. “Not unless she’s using magic.”
“She could be.”
“She scares you.”
“Damn right. She’s been known to snap her fingers and make great wizards implode.”
“You knew she was coming.”
“I got a heads up.”
“From?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “I’m not giving up my source.”
“So Gideon texted you,” I said.
“If you knew, why did you ask?”
I didn’t know until he just confirmed it. What a dumbass. “To see what you’d say.”
“You’re catching me off guard, Brett,” he said. “I need time to frame the narrative.”
“You might not want to tell me things like that.”
“That’s right. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“Why not?” I asked. “One of us is real, the other is fake. Right?”
“I’m the real one.”
I sighed. “So you keep saying.”
“Father told me I’m the real one.”
“Of course he did. You’ve been behind most of my troubles since I got back.”
“Troubles? I’ve been trying to help you out.”
“I sense some panic in your voice,” I said.
“That’s ludicrous.”
“You sent me into harm’s way, you lame-assed little bastard. I may have to go over to your place and beat you over the head with a big stick.”
“You wouldn’t resort to violence.”
“Under normal circumstances, you’d be right, but I’ve had a few drinks, and you’ve been trying to get me killed, so I’m about ready to open up a can of whoop-ass on you.”
“My house is fortified with magic.”
“You think your magic will work to keep me out?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“We’re the same, right?”
“Sort of.”
“Your magic has to let you pass through, so it recognizes you.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Since we’re essentially the same, don’t you think it would think I’m you and just let me pass through safely?”
“Uh,” he said. “I don’t know.”
“Who are you talking to?” a familiar voice asked from somewhere in the other Brett’s place. It took me a moment, but I recognized Gideon.
“My twin,” Brett answered.
“Hang up.”
“But—”
The line went dead.
I nodded. It made sense. Of course Gideon was with my twin. He worked for him. He’d warned him about the Matriarch’s arrival. He’d also put me directly in the path of assassins enough that he must have been involved on that end of things, too. Or at least knew about it.
He’d warned me about some of it.
I liked him. He could have let me die in the limo when we were getting attacked, but he drove us out of the way.
Was he playing me?
He had to be, right? I mean, he worked for my twin.
And my twin was trying to please my father.
It was time to get to the bottom of this shit pile.
I set my phone aside and grabbed Rhonda’s phone from the dresser where I’d left it. The battery was down to about a third, but that was plenty. What was her code? I typed in four fives. Wrong. Shit. Four sevens unlocked the phone and I scrolled through her contacts until I found Nathaniel Masters. I pressed his name.
I put it on speaker and listened to my father’s phone ring.
Second call.
“Hello, Brett,” Dad said without even a hello.
“You knew it was me?”
“The Ringo fools reported in, so of course I knew it was you.”
“What kind of game are you playing?”
“Your mother and I are just leaving the opera. She’s powdering her nose.”
“She still says that?”
“Indeed she does. I’ve been expecting your call. To be honest, I thought you’d call sooner.”
“I decided to take a nap instead.”
“How was Fiji?”
“Why did you change your number?”
“So you couldn’t reach me so easily. I trust the beaches were lovely.”
“The women, too,” I said.
“They always are.”
“Back to my original question. What game are you playing here?”
“I’m in New York right now, Brett. And I told you, we just left the opera. We’ll be going back to our apartment, then your mother wants to spend the day at the museum tomorrow.”
I wasn’t aware of his New York apartment, but it didn’t surprise me. He has houses and apartments all over the world. He normally spends his time in New Orleans, but it wasn’t unusual for him to spend a weekend in the Big Apple.
“I’m thrilled for you, Dad. You didn’t answer my question.”
“I heard from my great-grandmother earlier.”
“Ah, yes, the Matriarch. Me, too.”
“So she said.”
“Do I call her Granny?”
“Not especially.”
“Mrs. Masters will be sufficient then.”
“Does she have a first name?”
“Of course.”
“Care to share?”
“You could look it up, Brett.”
“You could save me the trouble, Dad.”
“Fine. Her name is Catherine.”
“How much more testing are you going to do?”
“I’m not testing you.”
“Is Catherine?”
“You shouldn’t call her that.”
“Fine. Is Mrs. Masters testing me?”
“You aren’t supposed to be the test subject, Brett. Your replacement is. You’re supposed to still be in Fiji, but I guess paradise bores you, too.”
“People are trying to kill me, Dad.”
“You seem to be ahead of the curve so far. If you go back to Fiji, the other Brett will finish up the testing process, and if he survives, he’ll be accorded the full title of wizard by the Magic Council, and he’ll sign the accord.”
“What about me?”
“You won’t.”
“Come on, Dad. What gives?”
“Brett, you don’t have the requisite skills to pass the test. I gave you plenty of time, but you wanted to nap your life away. Hell, you wrote a song about it.”
“So I’m the original.”
“If you say so.”
“You sound like you’re agreeing when you don’t really believe it.”
“Do I?”
“Let me rephrase. Am I the original?”
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“Yeah, it kinda does.”
“Then you and your twin can figure it out. I’d recommend you simply leave Galveston tonight. Head over to Houston. Grab a plane first thing in the morning. Go to Switzerland. Do some skiing. Or go to Italy, and rent a villa in Tuscany. Too many words there, Brett? Are you still with me?”
“Why leave tonight?”
“Because it’s your last chance. I honestly don’t care what happens, but if you remain in Galveston, when this ends tomorrow night, there will be only one Brett Masters. I can’t have two of you vying for the wizard title and an inherited seat on the Council.”
“So you’re really dying?”
He laughed. “We’re all dying, Brett. One day at a time.”
“The other me said you were sick. Brain cancer. Six months to live.”
“I’m sick of your bullshit, Brett. I’m not sick. And I see your mother is coming through the crowd. Lose this number. I won’t answer for you again.”