Maverick throws his head back laughing.
“Anyway,” he says once he calms down, “my brother will land around six. I’m going to go secure the jet.”
“Underlings get jet privileges?” Skip asks, jumping to his feet. “Not cool, Spike. How comewedon’t get jet privileges?”
“Because we don’t have one, you idiot,” Spike laughs.
“Feel free to use mine anytime,” Maverick offers casually.
Skip freezes. “Really?”
“I’ll just need a few hours’ notice,” Maverick says. “So my pilot can fuel it and file for air clearance.”
Skip stares at him, awestruck.
“I am absolutely going to abuse our friendship and use you every chance I get,” Skip says.
Maverick just laughs.
That fucker is always happy.
***ABBY***
“Do you two eat the exact same amount of food and work out in perfect sync or something?” I mutter as I jot down Twin Two’s measurements.
I look down at my notepad.
Exact. Same. Numbers.
“I mean, this is unnatural,” I continue. “There is no universe where every single measurement matches down to the millimeter.”
“We’re identical twins,” Twin Two replies evenly. “That is, quite literally, the definition.”
“I don’t care how identical you are, Twin Two,” I say, planting my hands on my hips. “This is weird.”
“The name’s Nico,” he corrects calmly. “But if you insist on your absurd nicknames, at least be accurate. My brother, Marco, was born second. He should be Twin Two.”
I stare at him.
“Well, I can’t very well change it now,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve already mentally committed. If I switch you, I’ll get confused. I’ll never be able to tell you apart.”
“You’ve known us for an hour,” Twin One…apparently Marco…says, looking at me like I’m the irrational one. “The adjustment period would be minimal.”
“Not now, Twin One,” I sigh, glancing toward the front windows. “My client will be here any minute.”
I point at both of them.
“And no more glowering. Smooth out your faces. Relax your jaws. Maybe… I don’t know… attempt smiling?”
They both look at each other.
Then back at me.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
They smile.
