“Nope! Wait. Hang on, Liev. Ow! Stop it.” She smacks his hands, still laughing, but clearly flighting it. “No, you can’t do that. You can’t call.”
“Uh, why not?”
Liev finally lets her go and she leans forward, pulling a phone from her back pocket. I immediately recognize the ornate teal and white modern art painting on the case. It’s Twyla’s. No doubt about it.
“It was on the floor of the truck. Found it on my trip to town this evening.” She sets it on the table. “I turned it off so it wouldn’t run out of juice.”
“How am I supposed to get in touch with her now? Through our fuckin’ publicists?”
Grace lifts one tattooed arm in an elegant half-shrug. “Try the Hole again tomorrow?”
“You could always make another one of those viral videos.” Liev’s wearing his annoying smirk. “Seems to have gotten her attention.”
Grace snorts. “No way can he find another Twyla doppelgänger.”
“Doppelgänger?”
Liev snorts. “You kidding me, boy?”
“Boy?”
“Act like a little shit and I’ll treat you like—”
“Stop it.” Grace lightly smacks Liev’s arm. “He’s being serious.”
“Z. Bro, come on. You’re not usually this…” He glances at his woman, as if for help. She replies with a wide-eyed shrug. “Dense.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The video… The woman?” Grace is watching me wide-eyed, obviously waiting for me to catch up. “She’s a perfect replica of Twyla Hernandez.”
That dull, rhythmic thing starts up in my skull again, a loud, throbbing pulse in my brain.
“Mmmm.” Liev seesaws a hand in the air. “An okay copy.”
“She was cute.”
“I met Twyla last night, babe, and that woman is a whole lot more than cute.”
“What the fuck? No, she… This…” I stand up, not sure where I’m going. The head thing’s squeezing my eyeballs now, making everything flicker. “What?”
“Here, give me that.” Grace pulls the crushed empty from my grip.
Behind her, Liev gets up, all humor gone from his face.
Somehow, they tag team me back onto the sofa, this time one of them on either side of me. Liev’s got his arm around my shoulders and Grace is turned to face me, both hands holding mine.
I’m looking down at her fingers. They’re long and thin and strong. Artist’s hands, like Liev’s, although not nearly as chewed up as his are. And she’s got ink winding down into her palm—an invitation to follow.
Twyla’s got tiny hands. Nothing like these. They’re soft and sort of…plump. They’re busy little hands with short, neat nails and tiny wrists. Pin-up hands.
I had those hands on my cock tonight and they felt like absolute paradise.
Everything about her was Goldilocks perfect. Just right.
I shut my eyes and let my head fall back onto Liev’s arm. He tightens his hold on me and somehow that show of support, casual though it is, makes me realize what an ass I’ve been.
“You’re both right.Fuck.She looked so much like her. Why didn’t I see it?”
