The Lame-Assed Doppelganger Page 5

  “Damn wizards tend to blend right in,” he said.

  “That’s one of the rules. Wear clothes that fit the current style. Anyway, they were going to have a magical contest to make butterflies appear out of nothing, and the biggest most beautiful butterfly would constitute the winner.”

  “I know where this is going,” he said.

  “No you don’t.”

  “Your old man conjured a butterfly that filled the whole room, right?”

  “No. Let me tell the story.”

  “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “So my father conjured a butterfly that filled the whole house.” I waited for him to smile, then said, “Just kidding.”

  He shook his head.

  “Seriously,” I said. “I was just a kid, but back then I wanted to be like my old man. I wanted to show that I had magic powers too.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Not uh oh,” I said. “Let me tell it.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “So I go into the living room, and I’m wearing a pink silk robe I took from my mom’s closet. I was maybe six years old, and I had my hands in the pockets, acting all nonchalant. My father told me to go to bed, but I said I wanted to show them that my magic was powerful. The Brit was smiling, so my father encouraged me. I stepped forward, pulled one hand out of the robe and pointed at the TV set saying, ‘To life!’ and at that moment, I pressed the power button on the remote control in my other pocket. The TV came on.”

  “What was playing? Please tell me it was Mothra.”

  “No, it was an episode of Magnum P.I. Both the Brit and my father stared at the TV in amazement. I said, ‘Go away, Tom Selleck,’ and pressed the power button again. The TV turned off. The Brit clapped his hands. My father looked from the TV to me and smiled.”

  “See?” Gideon said. “He’s not all bad.”

  I grinned. “He said, ‘Son, I’m impressed.’ I beamed, took a bow, and the Brit kept clapping. ‘Jolly good,’ he said. ‘Can you turn the TV on again and this time make the volume go up and down?’ My father said that might be a bit much for a boy my age. The Brit laughed and said he thought I could do it.”

  “Wait a minute, your father didn’t know about the remote?”

  I shook my head. “So I turned the TV on, but when I moved my finger to the other button, I changed the channel to an old episode of Gunsmoke instead of changing the volume. My father said, ‘Focus your magic, son.’ The Brit laughed harder than ever. ‘The other button, Brett,’ he whispered. ‘You can do this.’ And my father got pissed. He grabbed me, pulled me close and found the remote control. The Brit tried to pass it off as all in good fun, but my father was embarrassed that he’d been fooled. I’ve been an embarrassment to him ever since.”

  “Damn,” Gideon said.

  “What kind of stuff did you pull?”

  “More like shit got pulled on me,” he said. “My aunt had a voodoo doll of me, and anytime I didn’t clean my room, she’d do stuff to the doll that happened to me. The worst was when I was in grade school. I was in front of the class doing Show and Tell with my basketball tricks. I wasn’t allowed to throw the ball, but I could roll it up and down my arms, around my neck, spin it on one finger, all that stuff. So I’m at the front of the room, arms outstretched, ball rolling from one hand over my arm, over my neck, down my other arm to my fingers, where I flipped it over my head to my other hand, right? Aunt Vera chooses that exact moment to yank the pants down on the doll, and my pants dropped to the floor in front of the whole class. Underwear dropped too. So I’m standing there, pecker flopping out in front of God and everyone. The class laughed. Girls pointed. I dropped the ball, and pulled my pants up. Teacher grabbed me by the ear and dragged me down to the principal’s office calling me a pervert. I got kicked out of class for a week.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  He grinned. “Wasn’t all bad, though. Few years later, I hooked up with a couple of those girls. I guess they liked what they saw.” He elbowed me and nodded while raising and lowering his eyebrows.

  And we kept telling stories.

  After bonding over food, I found that I liked Gideon. He seemed to like me as well.

  I wonder if he thought about the Tarot card warning us to be wary too. Stupid Tarot cards took all the fun out of making a new friend.

  Then again, when the new friend was the driver for the crazy hot chicks who wanted to kill you, maybe being wary was a good thing.

  My phone buzzed as a text came in.

  Michael: Ready when you are.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Michael met us in front of a coffee shop on Post Office Street. He didn’t like strangers knowing where he kept his coffin. Gideon pulled over to the curb and I rolled the window down.

  “Hey, Michael,” I said.

  “Sparing no expense, I see,” he said. He picked up his overnight duffel and approached the limo.

  Gideon popped the trunk, but didn’t get out.

  “Not exactly full service,” Michael said as he tossed his bag in the trunk and closed the lid.

  “I don’t serve vampires,” Gideon said once Michael opened the back door to slide into the vehicle. “No offense. Just a rule my mother set when a vampire ran off with my father.”

  Michael shot me a look.

  I put up my hands. “I didn’t tell him anything. He already knew.”

  “I’m in the business of knowing,” Gideon said.

  “Just as well,” Michael said. “I don’t like people waiting on me hand and foot. Makes me uneasy. As you seem to know who I am, how about you tell me your name.”

  Gideon turned in his seat and extended a hand. “Gideon Barnes, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Michael shook his hand.

  “Your hand is cold,” Gideon said.

  “My hands are always cold,” Michael said. “Comes with being undead.”

  “And women like you to touch them?”

  “I tend to rub my hands together first,” Michael said.

  “Fascinating.”

  “Not really,” Michael said. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “I’d rather just drive.”

  Gideon pulled into traffic and headed toward Broadway to catch the causeway over to the mainland.

  As we cruised along, I caught Michael up on what he’d missed.

  He shook his head when I told him about the Ringo Twins.

  “You always go for the hot women,” he said.

  “Like you don’t?”

  “Depends on what else they bring to the table. Your pecker gets you into more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “I don’t know that I’d put a price on my pecker, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable having you talk about it.”

  “So Gideon here was their driver, but now he’s your driver?”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “How does that work?” Michael asked.

  Gideon glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “They hired a service. I filled in. I’m not on their payroll. My employer had instructions with all limo and taxi services to call me if the Ringo Twins needed a ride.”

  “I don’t trust you,” Michael said.

  “No big,” Gideon said. “I don’t trust you, either.”

  “I’m not going to bite you,” Michael said.

  “I know that. I have vampire repellant on my throat.”

  “Garlic?”

  Gideon smiled. “And magic.”

  “You do realize the garlic legend was started in Romania because a vampire named Nicolae Munteanu had Porphyria, right? A lot of the legends about vampires came from Nicolae and his disease. Garlic exacerbated his symptoms when he was alive, so he avoided it in his afterlife. I happen to like garlic.”

  “I’ll make a note to send you a gift basket filled with it.”

  Michael shook his head, and glanced at me. “Like I’d bite a guy.”

  “You’ve bitten guys before, haven’t you?”

  “Only to survive.”


  “You ever do the Bill Paxton thing from Near Dark?” I asked.

  “I know who Bill Paxton is, but I haven’t seen Near Dark.”

  “One of the best vampire movies ever,” Gideon said. “Directed by Kathryn Bigelow, who went on to direct Point Break, The Hurt Locker, Zero Dark Thirty, and others. I think Brett is talking about the bar scene.”

  “You got that right,” I said.

  Then at the same time, Gideon and I mimicked Bill Paxton’s accent and said, “I hate it when they ain’t been shaved.”

  He held up a hand and I high-fived him.

  “I guess I’m the third wheel,” Michael said. “Maybe I’ll pull a Brett and take a nap while you two continue your bromance.”

  I ignored Michael. “What are your other favorite vampire flicks?” I asked.

  “Let the Right One In, of course.”

  “The original Night Stalker with Darren McGavin.”

  “That was a good one. I gotta go with my man Wesley Snipes as Blade.”

  “Damn right. Wesley Snipes rocks,” I said. “Gotta include From Dusk till Dawn.”

  “Tarantino and Rodriguez? Hell, yeah!”

  “I kinda liked Underworld because Kate Beckinsale was so hot in that movie.”

  “I don’t know,” Gideon said. “Werewolves can’t figure out to attack the vampires in the daytime?”

  “Good point.”

  “But I did like vamps using cell phones.”

  Michael sighed. “Hell, I use a cell phone,” he said.

  And we kept going all the way to Austin.

  Michael wanted to check out the bar we were going to play, so instead of going to our hotel, we headed downtown.

  We arrived at the venue on 6th Street just after eleven o’clock. Michael and I waited outside a parking garage while Gideon looked for a space inside. I hoped the space wasn’t more than ninety-four feet away, or I’d get yanked forward.

  “You realize part of his mission probably includes killing you, right?” Michael asked.

  Downtown Austin was bustling that night. Guys stood outside bars hawking dollar draws trying to get people into their establishments. There were gift shops tucked in between the bars, and a cool looking place called Museum of the Weird.

  “We should go in there,” I said.

  “Did you hear me?” Michael asked.

  “Gideon isn’t going to kill me. He likes me.”

  “Or he’s playing you.”

  “What, you don’t think someone can like me?”

  Michael frowned. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Sure sounded like it.”

  “Just don’t let your guard down. Cool?”

  “Whatever. Why did you come down with me instead of Sabrina?”

  “We’re not seeing each other anymore,” Michael said.

  “What happened?”

  “She got pissed.”

  “About?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Sure it does,” I said. “Did you sleep with another chick?”

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Touch her without rubbing your hands together first?”

  He just stared at me.

  I shook my head. “Dude, just tell me.”

  He sighed. “I voted for the other you to take over as lead singer for the band. And I voted for the name change.”

  “Oh,” I said. “She won’t get over that.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Sorry, dude. You guys seemed to be doing so well.”

  He shrugged. “I feel sorrier for Teddy than I do for myself. Poor guy’s been hitting on Sabrina for a month and she hasn’t even noticed.”

  “Poor Teddy. We should give him dating lessons.”

  “Right. Oh, here comes Basketball Jones.”

  I glanced toward the corner and saw Gideon moving toward us. He stood so much taller than everyone else that he was impossible to miss.

  “He’s a good guy,” I said.

  “Until he kills you.”

  “He’s not going to kill me.”

  “You two didn’t have to wait for me,” Gideon said.

  “We weren’t waiting,” Michael said.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice,” I said.

  “So you want to scope the place out?” Gideon asked.

  “I do,” Michael said, and walked into the bar.

  Gideon and I followed him.

  Inside, the lights were low, and the music was loud. Some guy was butchering Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer.”

  “Great,” I said. “It’s karaoke night.”

  “Cool,” Gideon said. “I’ll get us on the list to sing.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Well, I’m singing.” He moved toward the KJ and I angled off toward the bar to order a whiskey.

  Michael was deep in conversation with a man at the end of the bar. The guy wore a pinstripe suit and a loud tie that looked like Jackson Pollock had used it to wipe off a painting. I didn’t recognize the guy, but he glanced my way, so I gave him a slight nod.

  He didn’t nod back.

  “What’ll you have?” the bartender asked.

  I looked at her. She was a Goth chick in a black sleeveless tank top. She had a tattoo of Jack Skellington from The Nightmare Before Christmas on her upper arm. That was cool. She had a silver stud in her nose, and a bored look in her eyes.

  “Jameson on the rocks,” I said.

  Some guy at the bar overheard me and shook his head. “You’re ruining it. Jameson should always be neat.”

  “I ruin a lot of things,” I said.

  “Well, you’re the one who has to drink it.” He raised a glass in salute.

  The bartender slid me a drink and I slid her a ten dollar bill, told her to keep the change, then looked around the bar.

  The off-key Bon Jovi wannabe got off the stage and a cute girl replaced him. She launched into “Rehab” by Amy Winehouse and did all right.

  I sipped my drink.

  Michael kept talking to the Mafioso-looking guy, and Gideon kept talking to the KJ.

  Some big dude got on the stage to sing Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” and the entire bar sang along with him. I found myself singing, too. I couldn’t help it.

  A woman tried to sing an Adele song, then some guy tried to sing Jace Everett’s “Bad Things” and someone else did “Love Shack” by the B-52s. There’s an unwritten law somewhere that makes it mandatory for someone to sing that song at every karaoke gathering.

  “Now put your hands together for Gideon, who wants to sing about his ‘Achy Breaky Heart,’” the KJ said.

  And sure enough, Gideon gave it his all.

  When he finished, Gideon pulled a young woman over to the stage. “I sang the father’s song, Cindy here will sing the daughter’s song.” He handed her the microphone and she started singing “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus.

  When she finished, she embraced Gideon. Someone else got on stage to sing “Bohemian Rhapsody,” another mandatory karaoke song, while Gideon led the girl toward the bar.

  He reached me and gave me a smile. “You and Michael need to find your own way home. Cindy has some daddy issues to work out, and I’m just the man to help her.”

  Cindy blushed.

  “I thought you were linked to me. Ninety-four feet and all that.”

  He nodded. “I’ll free you of that burden for tonight.” He pulled off one of his rings and handed it to me.

  “Only one of them?”

  “It’s the one with the spell, and it’s all yours for the night.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Cindy needs me, and I doubt anyone will try to kill you tonight.”

  “Cheers,” I said, and stuck the ring in my pocket.

  They left, and I looked back to Michael, who kept nodding to something the mafia guy was saying. I turned to watch the lady singing Queen, but Michael suddenly appeared beside me.

  “Time to go,” he said.

  “I’m n
ot finished with my drink.”

  Michael took the drink out of my hand and set it on the bar. “Yes you are,” he said and pushed me toward the door.

  Out on the street, I spun to face him. “What the hell, dude?”

  “Do you have any idea who I was talking to?”

  “I don’t care. You wasted Jameson.”

  “You’re going to care. That was Gregor Nyborg.”

  “Any relation to Plutonium Nyborg?”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Never mind,” I said. “The only Gregor I know of is Gregor Samsa.”

  “Like you’ve ever read Kafka.”

  “Dude turns into a bug. I had to read it.”

  “This Gregor is a vampire.”

  “Can he turn into a bug?”

  “Do you want to know about the planned assassination of Brett Masters tomorrow night or not?”

  “Well, shit, man, you could have led with that.”

  And he told me what Gregor knew.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Gideon didn’t come back to the hotel the next day, so I left the golden ring on the bathroom counter next to my hairbrush. I worried that it might be a tracking device, and I didn’t want it on me. It would be safe in the hotel room.

  Michael and I took an Uber downtown to get to the bar. I’d spent much of the day trying to memorize the songs, but I finally gave up on that, realizing that in the moment, there was no way I’d be able to remember all the lyrics.

  Instead, I just needed to know the melodies and the timing. The other version of me enunciated a little too well on the songs, so I couldn’t pull a Kurt Cobain and just mumble along if I forgot the words. Fortunately, Gideon’s singing gave me the idea I needed to get through the set.

  Sabrina, Teddy, and Chuck were already set up when we arrived. “You’re late,” Sabrina said. I think she said more, but I stopped listening after the second word.

  “Listen to me,” she said, and slapped my face.

  “Damn, Sabrina,” I said. “That wasn’t necessary.”

  “You’re checking out the stage set up instead of paying attention to what I’m saying, and that drives me insane.”

  “Lots of words there. I heard you’re insane, does that count?”