“I am not looking forward to this.”

Maggie looks up from her phone, thumbs still typing as she asks, “Is it your dad?”

“No, my twin brother.” Swiping to answer I get off the couch and walk away. “Elijah, don’t even. I know what you’re about to say.”

His voice is apologetic, but not sorry enough. “I can’t make it to the concert.”

“I fucking knew it!” I shout. “How often do these go down in Atlanta, huh? I’m performing one night that I told you about months ago! Then I take off for five other countries! Why the fuck can’t you be there?”

“I’m having dinner with the President.”

My jaw clamps as I trudge over to the west side of my loft. There’s a gorgeous sunset out the iron-framed window, yesterday morning’s rain a memory. “Real nice, Elijah. The one excuse I can’t argue with. Other than your having dinner with God.”

“You want me to cancel?”

With heavy sarcasm, I chuckle, “Yeah do it.”

“You know he’s not a fan of who I’m working for, and if I can change that he’ll help me.”

“The President?”

“The Senator. Impress him and he’ll have my back. I want to make it there before Dad did. You know that.”

“You’re still in fucking law school!”

“I’m an overachiever.”

Blinking at the view I run a hand through my hair, another reminder of how much we’ve grown apart as we’ve gotten older. Mine’s much longer than his hair for the first time. Feels like we have nothing in common these days despite being identical twins. When we were growing up we were inseparable. Now I never see him except for holidays or huge events like Ethan or Hannah’s weddings. Partly my fault for having this career where I’m touring on the road all the time, but when I’m in town I expect to see him. Especially since he switched universities to be nearer to family.

“I’m here one night, Elijah.”

"You grew up in the same house I did. You saw the games! Give me a fucking break. This is politics. It’s who you know in Washington now and in the future, not the past. It hardly matters that dad and Grandpa were in Washington. I have to claw my way up.”

“When you’re ready you’ll have the people’s vote.”

“What good will that do me if I don’t have the support of the majority in Congress. One Senator at a time I am kissing ass and showing what I can do. Word spreads. I keep moving up with friends on my side, not enemies trying to kill me. Fuck, why am I even arguing about this? You saw what Dad had to do! And you’re going to have thousands of people screaming your name. Why do you even need me there?”

I almost throw the phone across the room. Through gritted teeth I tell him, “Because you’re my best friend, you dick. I’m hanging up now.”

Maggie looks up from my blue leather couch as I growl at the dark screen. “If it makes you feel any better, your sister Hannah just tweeted how proud she is of her little brother.”

I collapse next to my publicist and steal her cell. “Give me that.”

“Hey!” She reaches for it but I easily hold it out of reach while she claws at me. “Gabriel, stop it! I’m nothing without my phone!”

“It’s the other way around, Maggie,” I smirk, jumping up. She chases me around the loft but I dodge her like a pro. “Had lots of practice with my sister! She’s way taller than you are. You’re playing a losing game, Mags!”

Growing bored I toss it to her. She doesn’t catch it and the thing shatters. “No! You bastard! I just bought that!”

Heading to my fridge I say over my shoulder, “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Delicately patting down the fragments of her screen as if it’ll do anything other than cut her fingers, Maggie follows me. “Why can’t he be there?”

“He has a hot date.” Off her look I dryly mutter, “And it’s a guy.” We stare at each other as I pop open an ice-cold beer and take a swig.

“It’s the President isn’t it?”

“Just drop it.”

A mass of dark curls bobble as she shakes her head. “You’ve got that date coming up, too.”

Leaning against my granite counter I hold the bottle to my lips and tell her, “I don’t date, Mags, you know that.”

“The contest you forgetful piece of fluff.”

I snort and feel the burn of beer in the back of my damn nostrils as she grabs her purse to leave. “You made me spit out of my nose. Why do I keep you around when you talk to me like that?”

Gingerly holding her mangled addiction as her purse strap threatens to bend her forearm in half, Maggie reaches for the doorknob. “Because you like the abuse? And no other publicist is as good as I am? Either one works. Your date is this Thursday, that’s two days from now. Since I know you won’t choose a restaurant on your own or actually show up unless I make you, I’ve already reserved the best table at Rays on The River, and a car will arrive here at 7:30 P.M sharp to drag you there.”

“Will I even be awake by then?” I dryly ask her.

She cocks her head. “Elijah got you in a mood didn’t he.”

“No shit.”

“Try to be nice to the poor girl, bless her innocent fangirl heart.”

My shoulders slump as I push off the counter and head for my couch. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You didn’t set me up with a virgin, did you?”

“Oh my God!” Maggie explodes. “First of all, I’m your publicist, not your pimp! Second, you should be a gentleman and not even care!” We stare at each other until she starts smiling. “Right, there are no gentlemen present, what was I thinking?”

“Unless you look in the mirror, muff-diver.”

“I resemble that remark.”

“When are you going to let me watch, Mags? You and Carrie scissoring like little kitties in a pile of catnip, I want in.” I take a slug of beer as she cracks up. I barely break a smile because I’m too practiced at breaking someone’s balls, male or female. You’re not a member of my family if you can’t take it as good as you get it. Besides, I’m still pissed at Elijah.

“Gabriel!” she groans through laughter. “If I had known working for you would have been like this!”

“You would have begged to work for me when you were still accepting cock for supper?”

Her lips go tight in an effort to maintain severity. It’s not working. “You would have been my last man ever. Because trust me, I would have given up the dong after being with a dick like you.”

I lazily smirk, “You’ve never been with a Cocker.”

“Every man says that. That’s the number one thing lesbians hear from men we don’t want to fuck – if only you had my dick you wouldn’t want pussy. So you’re not original. I’ll see you later. I’m going to get a replacement for this phone. And I’m putting it on your bill!”

“Never doubted that for a second.”

“You need to get laid.”

“Got some last night.”

Cocking an eyebrow she walks out the door. “You need to get laid right.” Holding up her hand she shouts, “I get the last word this time!”

Right before it shuts, I mutter, “Word.”

She opens it. “I heard that!”

“Word.”

Maggie growls and vanishes, which is technically not using actual language.

So I got the last word.