The Lame-Assed Doppelganger Page 4
“We had a little chat. No biggie.”
“You need to tell me what happened.”
“No I don’t,” I said. “Am I filling in for a show this weekend?”
“Tomorrow night in Austin. You can ride down with Teddy, Chuck, and me.”
“What about Michael?”
“He’s heading down there tonight.”
“I think I’ll ride down with him then.”
“I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”
“Good luck with that,” I said and hung up.
The driver dropped me off at the Music Box and I tipped him well.
“Thanks, dude,” he said and headed out to pick up his next fare.
I walked around the corner to where I’d parked, and the six-foot-eight black guy was waiting for me. He sat on the roof of my car, no doubt denting it. When he saw me, he smiled and gave me a salute. Sunlight glinted off the rings on his hand.
“Congratulations, mon,” he said with a bit of a Jamaican accent.
I stopped a safe distance from the car. “For what?” I asked.
“Surviving, mon.”
“Is that a real accent?”
He laughed. “You think I’d fake an accent, mon?”
“I think you’re adding ‘mon’ to the end of each sentence to sound Jamaican.”
Another laugh. “Quite so,” he said, switching to a slightly British accent.
“The Ringo Twins send you to kill me?”
“Definitely not.” Now there was no trace of a foreign accent. He sounded like a typical American from the Midwest.
“Let me hear your Irish accent,” I said.
“Irish, Scottish, and Australian elude me at the moment. French, too, come to think of it.”
“What’s your game?”
“You’d guess basketball, and you’d have been right if not for a knee injury. I could have gone pro, too. Sucks to be me, eh?”
“You need to work on your Canadian, too.”
He gave me another smile. “I hire out as a chauffeur from time to time. I work as a bouncer at a club on the Strand on weekends. And I do odd jobs for various interested parties when the need arises.”
“You here to kick my ass?”
“Do you want me to kick your ass?”
“No.”
“Good, because I also write movie reviews for Too Cool Flicks dot com. I need my hands for typing.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Of course, to kick your ass, I could use my feet. Do all that kung fu stuff.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He grinned. “Good because I don’t know any kung fu.”
“We could do this all day, so let’s just cut to the chase. Who are you and why are you sitting on my car?”
“My name is Gideon Barnes and I was tired of standing.”
“Well, Gideon, you’re going to leave an ass shaped dent in my roof.”
“You’re a wizard. You can fix it.”
“You’re a wizard too, right?”
The man sure loved to smile. It seemed like everything amused him. “That would be telling.”
“Dude, I can sense the magic in your veins.”
Another laugh. “No you can’t.”
“Well, you’re not a regular guy. That much I know for sure.”
“Because I’m tall, black, and beautiful?”
“Will you please get off my car?”
“As you wish,” he said and hopped down. He gave me an exaggerated bow. “I am here to help you navigate the maze that lies before you.”
“By serving me up to the Ringo Twins?”
“If they were able to get you that easily, my time would be better spent elsewhere. Congratulations, you passed the first test.”
“And I didn’t even study.”
“I suspect you never study.”
“Who hired you to look out for me?”
“That’s not important.”
“It is to me. If you were hired by the Council, it might mean one thing, and if you were hired by my father, it could mean something completely different.”
He laughed. “And you don’t know what either one of them would mean. Do you?”
I frowned. “Maybe you should go drive the Ringo girls around and leave me be.”
“No. I’m on stage two of my mission now.”
“Looking after me?”
“Something like that.”
“What was stage one?”
“Making sure the Ringo Twins got you back to their place in one piece.”
“And then you just left.”
He shrugged. “Again, if you couldn’t handle them, you’d be a waste of my time.”
“What’s stage three?”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“And you’re not telling.”
“And they said you wouldn’t catch on.”
“Who are they?”
“Indeed,” he said. “Who are they? Is it a literal they or a figurative they? Plural or singular? Alive or a ghost? What is reality?”
“Oh God,” I said. “You’re not going to be throwing around philosophical questions are you?”
“Not for you. Instead of contemplating the sound of one hand clapping, I suspect you’d rather spend your evenings watching porn on the internet with one hand wanking.”
“You’ve been peeking,” I said.
“You should really clear your internet history.”
Now I laughed. “I don’t even have a computer right now.”
He narrowed his gaze.
“Problem?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re staring at me like I have an extra nose.”
“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Masters. I’m going to approach you.”
“Why would I be alarmed?” I asked.
He stepped over to me and loomed. He stared down at me. Hard. His eyes bored into my skull, trying to see my soul. He walked around me. Loomed from behind. Looming was his specialty, and he did it well.
He put his massive hands on my shoulders, which made the skin on my left shoulder prickle painfully, and spun me around to face him. He bent and his eyes stabbed into mine with laser focus.
“Hmm,” he said.
He grabbed my right arm, turned it over, and stared at the tattoo.
“Riddle me this,” he said. “What does the Tarot say about my future involvement in your protection?”
“Huh?”
“Ask the tattoo.”
“Whatever, dude.”
“Humor me.”
It couldn’t hurt, so I asked the question and shook my arm. The tattoo shifted to reveal the Nine of Wands.
“Plenty of conflict,” he said. Then he smiled. “But it can be overcome. Still, we must be wary.”
“Typical Tarot bullshit,” I said.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“When is there not conflict? When can it not be overcome? When should you not be wary? It’s all crap.”
“Not if it makes you think about it.”
I walked to my car, studied the ass imprint on the roof. I could fix it, but I didn’t feel like drawing any blood right then. I wanted to take a nap before heading over to Michael’s.
“We should take my car,” Gideon said.
“What makes you think we’re going to be hanging out together?”
“It’s my job. You wouldn’t want me to be unemployed, would you?”
“Dude, I don’t know you.”
“I told you, I’m Gideon Barnes.”
“Yeah, I got that part. I also got that you have other side jobs.”
“Yes, but I’m going to keep an eye on you. It’s easier to do if we’re together. Hey, think of it like this. We’ll conserve gas this way. You don’t want to have to drive everywhere. I’ll be your chauffeur and bodyguard.”
“And executioner?”
He laughed. “What do your cards say about that?”
“To be wary?” I aske
d. I didn’t bother to tell him that I couldn’t ask the cards another question for twenty-four hours. Not that I cared, but asking the cards about his future with me broke my four month streak of not using them at all.
“I have no plans to kill you in the immediate future. We should be together, Mr. Masters. I can help you. And I’d much rather take my car because it has more leg room.”
I grinned. “You don’t want to fold yourself into my old man’s Ford Focus?”
“Why did your father buy that?”
“He needed a car to get around one day when he didn’t have a driver with him, so he bought the first car he found for sale. It’s normally at the airport in his hangar.”
“And you chose to drive it. Why?”
“Because it was the only car in the hangar that day.” I hadn’t considered that. Was my old man keeping tabs on me? Was there a tracker on the car? Then I shook my head because if my father wanted to track me, he would never think of technology. He’d hone in on my blood signature with magic.
Would someone else use technology to track me? Hmm. It would have to be someone with access to the hangar.
“Are you hurting your brain?” Gideon asked.
“Huh?”
“You look like you’re trying to do long division in your head.”
“Right. Tell you what. You go hop in the unemployment line because I don’t need a bodyguard or a chauffeur or someone who can get things off the top shelf for me.”
“Sorry, Mr. Masters. We’re linked now.”
I gave him a confused look.
He shrugged. “When I grabbed your shoulders, I linked us with magic. You and I have to be within ninety-four feet of each other until the spell wears off.”
“Ninety-four feet?”
He nodded. “The length of a basketball court.”
“Right,” I said and climbed into my car.
He didn’t try to stop me.
I started the engine, put the car in gear, and stepped on the accelerator. I waved to Gideon as I left my parking spot. He waved back, all polite.
I drove to the end of the parking lot, turned right toward Seawall, and made it a few more yards before the car jerked to a stop.
I glanced in the rearview mirror.
Gideon stood back there waving. I didn’t measure the distance, but I knew it was ninety-four feet.
I stomped on the accelerator.
The tires screeched. Rubber burned. Smoke billowed. And the car didn’t move an inch.
“Well, shit,” I said. I put the car in reverse, and it moved backward with no problem.
Maybe I should try backing over him.
But if that didn’t work, it would piss him off.
He was a lot bigger than me.
I veered to one side to go around him, and stopped beside him. I lowered the driver’s side window.
“Nice trick,” I said. “You cast the spell, so you set the parameters. Is that right?”
He nodded.
“Which means I can’t go more than ninety-four feet of where you want to take me.”
“I’ll have to let my employer or employers know that you’re not that slow a learner.”
I winked at him, bit the inside of my cheek, and focused my magic. “I’m not a big fan of leashes,” I said, and stomped on the accelerator again.
I was still in reverse so the car shot backward.
Oops.
Oh well, I didn’t want to admit that was an accident, so I kept going in reverse down the road. I focused on severing his link to me.
And bam!
The car jolted to a stop ninety-four feet from him. Again, I didn’t measure, but I figured I’d take his word for the distance.
He turned around and when he took a step toward me, the car backed up that distance.
He stopped and put a hand up telling me to stop.
I sighed, shifted to drive, and pulled over to the curb. I shut off the engine, and climbed out of the car.
“Not sure how you managed that little trick,” I said as I walked over to him.
He smiled and held up his right hand. His fingers were adorned with golden rings. He did a weird flex thing with his fingers and tiny needles poked out of the bottom of the ring bands. That would explain the left shoulder pain when he touched me.
“Blood binding,” he said. “As long as I have these rings, you’re stuck with me.”
Traces of blood remained in my mouth, so I focused my magic on yanking the rings off his fingers.
He laughed. “Nice try,” he said. “As I have your blood in the rings, your magic won’t work on me. You might think of it as an auto-shielding spell.”
“I’m going to sing the most annoying songs all day every day until you give me those rings. How’s your tolerance level for ‘It’s a Small World’ or ‘Achy Breaky Heart?’”
“Two of my all-time favorites. I’ll sing along with you.” He draped an arm around my shoulders and guided me toward the parking lot where his big limousine waited. “Now let’s get going. Where were you headed first?”
“To my hotel for a nap.”
“Oh, I love nap time,” he said. “You and I are going to be the best of buds.”
“I prefer a different kind of bud.”
“Of course you do.”
He put me in the back of the limo and drove me to my hotel. On the ride over, he shoved a CD into the player and Billy Ray Cyrus sang “Achy Breaky Heart.” Each time the song ended, Gideon pushed a button to play the track again. And he sang along each time.
Some days it’s better to just stay in bed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It’s hard to nap when a strange man is in the next room talking on his cellphone about you. I’d rented a suite, so the bedroom was separate from the rest of the place. I wanted to sleep, but it wasn’t going to happen. Unfortunately, I could hear only Gideon’s side of the conversation. I couldn’t tell who he was talking to or anything that I felt was useful to me, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying.
“This is Gideon,” he said, no doubt answering the phone. As the phone didn’t ring, I applied my best Sherlockian skills to determine the ringer was on vibrate.
“He’s in the next room. Napping.”
Silence.
“I wouldn’t know.”
More silence.
“Of course.”
The way Gideon’s voice shifted in location and volume, I suspected he was pacing the floor. He remained calm the entire time, and kept his voice low in an attempt to not wake me.
“I haven’t determined that yet,” he said.
Silence.
“Yes, he does.”
Silence.
“Not that I can tell.”
Silence.
“I will.”
Silence.
“Of course. He wants to know who hired me.”
Silence.
“No, I didn’t tell him.” I sensed a slight disgust at having been questioned.
More silence. I imagined Gideon staring at the ceiling.
“I’d rather not.”
Silence.
“You asked, I answered.”
Silence.
“I’ll be taking him and his friend Michael to Austin this evening.”
Silence.
“Yes, the vampire.”
Silence.
“No, I’m not concerned.”
Silence.
“I’m not afraid of vampires.”
Silence.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Silence.
“Is that all?”
Silence.
“Yes, it worked. I’d like to go now.”
Silence.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Silence.
“If necessary.”
Silence.
“No, I won’t hesitate.”
Silence.
“You do realize, this entire conversation would have been easier with texting, and I wouldn’t risk waking u
p the subject.”
Silence.
“You wizards are all the same. Technology is not your enemy.”
Silence.
“I don’t care what you think, say, or do as long as the money is in my account. I’ll do my job. Goodbye.”
Wizards. Unfortunately, that didn’t narrow things down. I suspected he’d been hired by the Magic Council or my father. The fake me could have hired him, too, but I didn’t think so. The issues with technology made it less likely.
I rolled over and closed my eyes.
The TV came on in the other room. Even though Gideon turned the sound down, I could still hear it. Steve Harvey gave some guy grief for a sexual answer on Family Feud.
Next thing I knew, I was trying to think of answers to: Name something people enjoy licking.
Even ice cream cones came off sexual in that survey. Lollipops, too. Yeah, I wasn’t going to be able to sleep.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and texted Michael:
Dude, we have a chauffeur to take us to Austin.
I waited.
No answer.
Stupid vampire didn’t take his phone into his damn coffin?
“Screw it,” I said, and joined Gideon for the rest of Family Feud.
He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. “Short nap.”
I shushed him, pointed at the TV, and sat down.
He nodded.
At the commercial, he repeated his comment. “Short nap.”
“Even a short nap can be refreshing,” I said.
“Just makes me groggier.”
“How long have you known about the magical communities?” I asked.
“Oh, you want to talk about real shit.”
“Only during commercials.”
“Right. My aunt was a voodoo priestess.”
“Cool.”
“Not if she practiced her voodoo shit on you.”
“Not so cool.”
“I’d rather know than not know, though,” Gideon said. “All these people around us are clueless. Crazy shit happens around them and they don’t even notice.”
“Sometimes they do.”
“Drives some of them crazy.”
“True that.”
Gideon smiled. “You want to order a pizza?”
“Hell yeah.”
Cut to us kicking back, eating a hand-tossed meat lover’s pizza, drinking soda, and swapping tall tales about growing up around magic.
Some of what I said was even true.
Some of what he said might have been true, too.
“This one time,” I said, “my father was meeting with a wizard from London. Tall guy with a long gray beard. Looked like Gandalf from Lord of the Rings only he wore an Armani suit instead of gray or white robes.”