AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Horse grunts. “Yup. Real lucky.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Things are going OK, other than Aiden’s penchant for mollycoddling? No complaints?”
“Don’t worry about us. Focus on figuring out what’s going on with Virginia. Do not fuck this up, Will. You’ll never meet—”
“I know. Jesus. I just wish I could tell her I’m here—”
“Will—”
“She wouldn’t tell a soul. I trust her.”
“You know what? Forget it. I am coming home. Pack your damn suitcase. If you tell Virginia that you’re you and anyone—an-y-one—sees you two together, we’re dead.”
“We can keep it professional in public,” I say.
“Will, if Ieverlooked at Virginia the way you look at her—not that I could or would—but if I did, security cameras a block away would catch the chemistry. I’d be labeled the biggest asshole brother on the planet. Do not do that to me, Will. Not all press is good press.”
He’s right, of course.
I hate it, but I have two choices: swap places and finish the European dates myself, or keep pretending I’m Mr. Colt. Since I’m committed to giving this life with my feet on the ground a fair shot, the decision is simple.
“Fine. I’ll use your phone to let staff know that your dumbass brother lost his and can be reached at the new number.”
“Don’t make me look like I’m gloating too hard about your boneheadedness,” Horse jokes. “And so we’re clear, from the minute I hang up, the only messages I’ll be replying to on your phone will be from you. All others I’ll ignore and delete. And don’t forget to fix the thing with Virginia.”
“As if,” I scoff. “Would have slipped my mind. Horse? Thanks for everything. I’m lucky to have you as my doppelgänger. I love you, bro.”
“Don’t get weird. Save that for Virginia. I gotta go. Aiden’s ordering room service like a fucking rock star—and not in a good way. God help us … once he’s famous, we’re going to have to make sure he’s on the road three hundred and sixty days a year.”
I take a deep breath and look out the window. At trees. And a yard that I can see has so much potential. I’ve never looked at a field of grass and seen more than an opportunity to build. But if this yard was put in Virginia’s care, I can imagine it would become nothing less than a real-life, Snow White’s forest, complete with dancing squirrels and singing rabbits and birds with hearts for eyes.
It’s only been a few days since I gave up being a famous face and assumed the life of a low-profile billionaire. The contrast is shocking. I can walk around Lily Valley with James and people treat us like we’re just two outsiders renting the big house at the end of the cul-de-sac at the top of the hill. It gives me a chance to get a feel for the little village.
It’s friendly, quiet, and apparently quite safe. Strangers talk about leaving their cars unlocked. And I’ve been told about some strange community pet-sharing co-op where neighbors freely borrow each other’s dogs to walk, when the owners aren’t home. That’s what makes James and I stand out most, I think—we’re two people strolling around the villagewithouta dog. With no sidewalks, everyone—people, kids, dogs, cats, raccoons—use the roads like it’s Mardi Gras every day. Road hockey nets sit right in the middle of the street, and drivers patiently wait for them to be pulled aside to pass.
It’s like I’ve dropped into a 1950s family TV show—but with a scent track of marijuana. So. Much. Pot.
There’s little I miss about the city and lots I’ve begun to appreciate about living with my feet on the ground, as Virginia would say. Even without her sweet voice reading to me, or my arms wrapped around her in bed, I fall asleep more easily and stay that way longer than in the city. It’s like there’s more oxygen in the air; my breaths are deeper and slower. And even though I’m constantly switching between my work and Horse’s, my phone and his, I’m not as stressed as I expected to be.
Virginia always said that being in nature alleviates tension as well as, or better than, many pharmaceuticals. She insists that taking breaks with trees and grass and plants fuels creativity, and I—a lifetime skeptic—have started to believe it’s true.
Despite the extra work and my irritation about not being able to invite Virginia up to share this space with me, I am happy. My face feels different, like smiling might be easier than scowling if I were to stay here long enough. It makes impersonating Mr. Colt easier, that’s for sure, except my only audience is a security guard and a chef, neither of whom has ever worked with him.
My phone rings and pulls me out my mini vacation staring into the backyard, back into the temporary office on the second floor of this house that I’m seriously considering buying.
I put Horse’s phone on the left side of the desk and mine on the right to keep track of who I’m supposed to be when I answer. I have to be on the ball, since the two phones look identical. I thought it would be easier not having to learn new navigation, but keeping them straight has proven a challenge.
“Colt here,” I answer, holding the phone to my left ear.
One of the board members wants a report on some minutiae about the Power Broker Program. I’m sure the four nonfamily members were helpful when Dad worked with them, and I appreciated their experience when I was still green. But for the last decade, they’ve just been pains in our asses, holding on to the old ways of thinking and doing.
I tell him I’ll get the info to him, making a note for Horse to deal with this when he returns from overseas.
I hang up, and the phone on my right rings. Now that the VPs and directors all have the new number, I’m doing my job, too, even though they know I’m in Europe and less available to troubleshoot their shit. I’m mid-sentence when Colt’s phone rings.
I check the caller ID and want to take the call. I hang up on my VP.
“Colt here.”
