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“A bit of an overkill, huh?”
I turn around. Theodore is behind me, wearing a new two-piece suit and one of the dashing smiles he reserves for rally addresses.
“You know, if you keep screaming at them, they’re not going to fear you,” he says, moving closer to me and taking the wrinkled paper from my grasp. “They’re not even going to despiseyou anymore. They’ll just think you’re a madman.”
I open my mouth to say something in reply, but then a make-up artist slips between my brother and me, dabbing his face with a brush.
The past few weeks have been hell, but we finally got the media circulation under control. Everyone got tired of Tony and his cheap attempt to defraud our campaign. We all moved on. EspeciallyTheodore, who is now in the lead to win the election.
His life is going perfectly.
Mine, not so much.
I drop myself back on the chair. For the past month, all I could feel was a haze of darkness that surrounded me and followed me everywhere I went. Work deepened the darkness, as did everything related to Theodore’s campaign. All I could do without feeling overwhelming anger was drink bourbon and sleep.
I expected the haze to pass with time, but it only deepened. And now, with merely three months to go before the election date, I am certainthat seeing my brother become a congressman will do nothing to lift me out of this despair.
“Don’t call me a madman,” I warn the moment the makeup artist disappears. I have nothing against my brother taking a hit at me—he does it all the time as the older twin—but the last thing I want is for his campaign members to think it permissible to insult me.
“Well, you’re acting like one,” Theodore says, dropping into the seat beside me. He folds the speech printout neatly into four squares.
“You’re supposed to read that,” I remind.
“No, youare,” he says. “But you’ve gone crazy. Thank God, I’ve still got people on my team that actuallywant me to win this election.” He tosses the paper aside and stares at me. “Can you promise something, though? To keep your shit together until I win this thing?”
I stare right back at him. As an identical twin who’s lived for over four decades, it’s difficult to remember that every time I look in my brother’s face, I’m staring into a mirror. In this very moment, I can see his face as mine.
More than that, I can see his face as what mine used to be when I genuinely enjoyed my life.
“I’m sorry my foul mood is ruining your election,” I say, looking away from him. “My apologies.”
He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, his gaze on his campaign members, who are hurrying back and forth in the little tent, trying to make sure everything is in order.
In less than fifteen minutes, Theodore will step out onto a makeshift stage and give a speech for one of the biggest rallies we’ve held for his election so far. And yet, rather than try to prepare or do anything else, my brother is more content lounging around and talking to me while watching his staff work.
“I can’t be stupid,” I remind him. “You do all of that for me.”
He gives me a Washington-worthy grin. “Brandon,” he says, suddenly serious. “Do you remember the day we interviewed Alex Payne for the job of campaign manager?”
I turn around to glance at Alex, who is bent over a table with the sound engineers, apparently trying to confirm that the sound system is in order.
“Yeah,” I say. Recalling that memory almost makes me feel better.“He was a nervous wreck. He knocked over all our coffees while he tried to convince us he was a good manager.”
Theo lets out a chuckle. “And he literally trembled throughout the interview.”
I raise my brow at Theodore. “Is this supposed to be the start of a motivational speech you want to give me about how people overcome hard times?” I rise to my feet. “Save that for someone else.”
Theo stands up as well. “Nah,” he says. “But I amtrying to tell you something. Alex trembled before, during, and afterthe interview. For the first few months he worked for me, he was deathly scared of you.And now, look. No trembles. Not even when talking to you.”
The corners of my lips turn down in a frown. “You’ve got thirty seconds to make a point before I walk out of here and try to supervise this blasted rally.”
Theo looks amused. “I’m just saying that this is notabout you being in a foul mood,” he says. “You’re in a foul mood all the time. This is about something else.”
I raise my brows. “You almostsounded like you were about to make a point.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “Gigi Harris,” he says after a pause.
There is a bothersome sting in the center of my chest. Turning around, I stride past the groups of people chattering about the rally. Theo calls my name once, but I ignore him as I duck under the tent door and step outside.
