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“Oh, Virginia will know,” both Horse and I say as one.
The conversation changes to more pressing matters, like ensuring Horse can deliver at least half of my trademark one-liners and that he figures out how to wrinkle his forehead in the right way when he’s thinking. Normally, Horse is an eyes-wide-open thinker, while I’m more of a scowler.
“Just imagine someone has kicked you in the balls,” Aiden offers.
Horse’s expression changes.
“Nailed it!” Aiden says, so loud several diners turn to look at us.
I reach over and drop my fist into Aiden’s groin.
He grunts.
Horse barks out a laugh. “You’re right. That’s Will’s resting bi—”
My other fist lands in Horse’s lap. He grimaces, grabs my hand, and forces it back into my chest.
“Billionaire, you asshole. Resting billionaire face.”
Once we all catch our breath, Horse gets serious.
“Hey, I’m sorry it took so long to do this. I hope it’s not too late.”
“Why now?” I ask. “What’s changed since … well, any other speaking season when I’ve begged you to twin swap with me?”
“I don’t know. Virginia said you told her that if you love someone to set them free. And I guess it finally hit me. I need to do this. Because I love you, bro.”
I’m grateful we’ve just been laughing so hard so I can blame the shine of tears on that.
Iwalk onto the Copenhagen stage to loud applause.
“hej københavn!” I yell. “My favorite city in all of Europe,” I say in Danish. I move around the stage far more than normal, in part to calm my nerves and in part to distract the crowd from examining me too closely. Aiden, of course, is right that I’ve gotten a little squishy—Horse looks trimmer in my suit than I do.
I do my standard introduction patter, words I’ve spoken more times than Taylor Swift has sung the lyrics of “Shake It Off” at live events. And I’m received with just as much adoration as a platinum-album singer.
Will I miss this?I wonder.
Possibly, but not as much as I miss falling asleep with Virginia wrapped in my arms. This won’t get her back, but it’s a critical first step. One of many I hope to figure out with her.
After outlining what the room can expect from the seminar, I call Aiden onstage to deliver the first of the ten live coaching sessions we have scattered throughout the day. Aiden—like all Power brothers—can speak a little bit of a lot of European languages. Even though I was groomed from birth for this job, Aiden was born to be a showman. The crowd responds to his smile and his winks. He’s softer and more approachable than I am. Having him as the face of our company will absolutely shift the kinds of entrepreneurs we attract. Which, as far as we’re all concerned, is a solid nod to our values and is long overdue.
Once the first businessman is seated again, I start the motivational coaching portion of the morning. Aiden and I have delivered this in tandem in five cities now, and we have a pretty decent rhythm. It’s not perfect, but we roll with it.
Today we’re going to go so far off-script, I’m a little nervous. We each stand with a mic in hand, addressing the crowd, taking turns asking questions, sharing pithy inspirational quotes. There’s an amount of jazzing, but for the most part, Aiden delivers the same lines I would, had I been doing this on my own.
My turn to take over and … my mic goes dead. I talk with enthusiasm, pretending I don’t notice until the crowd calls, “We can’t hear you.” I feign surprise and grab Aiden’s mic from his hand.
“My brother will sing to you while I get another mic.”
The crowd laughs. Aiden picks up with the exact words I was saying when I toggled the power switch on my mic to the off position. I jog offstage.
“You ready?” Horse and I ask each other, followed by brotherly slaps on the back. I hand the mic to my identical twin. He flips the switch back on and jogs onstage.
I watch for a few minutes, cringing from time to time since Horse isn’t delivering the material the way I would. But he is delivering. The audience will never know the difference. Probably. He has four more cities in Europe to practice being me, and then he’ll have to convince the harder audiences in North America.
I check my watch. Horse’s plane, pilot, and crew are expecting me at the airport in two hours. Well, they’re expecting Mr. Colt. I’ve pulled on a hoodie and ball cap to reduce the odds I’ll be recognized and take the stairs to Horse’s room.
Now comes the weird part: becoming my much more casual-looking brother. I change into his clothes—except boxers and socks—I would do anything for love, but wearing his underwear? I won’t do that.
