Page 1 of Dopplebanger

ONE

Ten out of ten times getting drunk with my twin brother ended in bouts of stupidity. I’d like to think this time would be different, because we were older and wiser now.

“Hey, Ethan, remember this party trick?” Evan asked, placing his recently-emptied beer can on his forehead.

“I don’t think?—”

He lifted the can a few inches and then brought it down, crushing it in one quick movement.

Well, we were older, anyway. And since I’d made a half-hearted effort of talking him out of it, I at least had plausible deniability.

Even my drunken thoughts are filled with legal mumbo-jumbo. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.It was what happened when you studied your ass off at law school, completed an internship from paperwork hell, and did more studying in order to pass the Bar.

Man, that last shot of vodka was a mistake.The shot glasses, beer cans, and bottles of alcohol littering the coffee table swam and then doubled for a few seconds before returning to one fuzzy blur.

Let the record show that I’d requested aquiethomecoming celebration, one with maybe a drink or two to commemorate the fact that we lived in the same state again.

“One more shot?” my brother asked from the seat across from me. He went to pour the vodka and missed the glass. He laughed and tried again.

“I’m done,” I said. At least I tried to, but my tongue tripped over the words, the slurring in full effect now.

“Itss not like you have work tmorrow.”

I’d passed the Bar a little over a month ago, and when a job opened up at a law firm here in Raleigh, I jumped at the chance to move back to my hometown. I had just under two weeks to find my own place and settle in before I started a job that required early hours. And late hours. Pretty much all the hours. My ass was theirs, and since I’d been working for this moment forever, I was happy about it. “I hung out at the Drunken Kraken for most of last year, and I still haven’t drunk this much in long time. I’m already going to have killer hangover tomorrow.” Apparently, in addition to the slurring, vodka made me sound slightly Russian. “I’m calling it.”

“Okay, fine.” Evan wobbled on his chair, then put a hand out to steady himself and blinked a couple of times. “But before you pass out, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“I’m not holding your hair back while you puke,” I joked, even though his hair was more on the short side, and he snorted a laugh.

I’d deferred the question, but my spidey senses were still tingling. I’d expected it to feel a bit weird to be back home after seven years living in another state, but I didn’t expect it to feel like I’d time-traveled back to high school, when Evan would convince me to drink way more than I should and then take advantage of my disoriented state by asking for favors. Hesomehow always got me to agree, even as my common sense screamedbad idea.

Not anymore, though. My decision-making skills may be impaired, but he’d never take my freedom!And now I’ve gone from legal jargon to quotingBraveheart.I have a bad feeling that I’ll wake up in a strange place tomorrow, wearing blue face paint and a kilt, no recollection of how I got there.

Evan leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. “I’ll make it worth your while, I swear.”

Another familiar phrase. I wasn’t sure if it was exactly good to know that nothing changed with my brother, but clearly not much had.

“You know how when we were kids, we used to switch places?” he asked. “Like, I’d take your math tests and you’d take my history tests? Or that time when I asked Charlotte Berkley to prom while pretending to be you, because you were too chicken to do it yourself?”

That setup question was a trap if I’d ever heard one, but at this point, I figured I’d just get him to spit it out so I could say, “No, I don’t do that immature shit anymore,” and crash out on this couch that was getting more comfortable by the second. “Little lawyer tip for you: You shouldn’t lead the defense with an insult when you’re asking for a favor. And for the record, I wasn’t too chicken, you jackass, she had a boyfriend. One who punched me in the face for asking her to prom.”

Evan’s eyebrows knitted together and he scratched his chin. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part.”

Of course he did. He often conveniently forgot about stunts that landedmein detention forhisoutbursts in class while pretending to be me. In fact, I couldn’t recall one switcheroo scheme we’d pulled off whereIcame out on top.

“My point is that we used to switch sometimes, and it’s not like you can forget how to be me…”

“Wrong.” I kicked up my feet on the coffee table, sending a few empties clattering to the floor. “Since you’re a glorified bum who still lives like a twenty-one-year-old frat boy, I don’t remember how to be you.”

He threw a hand over his heart. “Low blow, dude. Low blow.”

In theory, he worked for Dad’s company, doing research and filing paperwork, but he didn’t spend much time in the office. Evan was an idea man, with the kind of half-baked plans that landed the people involved in trouble, and that’d always left me as the guy who had to fix it. The guy who picked up the slack and went to law school so Dad would have someone to follow in his footsteps instead of staying in his shadow. As hard as law school had been, and as much as I’d missed Evan, not having to bail him out of his messes for several years actually felt like a nice break.

“Hear me out,” Evan said, never one to be deterred. “This involves a pretty girl.”

I rolled my finger in a keep-it-going motion. “Spill it. I don’t have time to follow your bread crumbs until I get to your candy house and find out you’re a hungry witch.”

Evan cracked a smile and shook his head. “Fine. I’ll get to the point before you make another joke that takes far too much work to figure out after having…” He surveyed the evidence on the coffee table. “Let’s just say ‘a lot’ to drink…”

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