Page 48 of His Assistant (His Chance 3)

“I feel like I’m getting about ten percent of the story here,” Dallas said. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

While we rode an elevator to the top floor and he let us into his suite, I told him about Harper and our last few days together (minus the more graphic details). When I finished, my brother asked, “Remember when I was in L.A. a couple of years ago, and you introduced me to Harper?”

“Uh, yeah. And then you two started dating. How could I forget?”

“Before he and I went out, I asked you point-blank if you had a problem with me dating him, and you swore you didn’t. But I don’t think you were being truthful with me or yourself,” he said. “I think you might have had a crush on him even then.”

“I did.”

While we were talking, I released the chicken, and she just stood there staring up at me. I went over to the wet bar and filled a glass to the rim with bottled water, and I put it on the floor for her before raiding a lavish gift basket. Meanwhile, Dallas threw his hands in the air and asked, “Then why didn’t you tell me not to go out with him?”

As I sliced an apple with my pocket knife, placed it on a napkin, and put it on the floor for the chicken, I said, “If it wasn’t you, it’d just be someone else.”

“You still should have told me you had feelings for him.”

“There was no point.”

He said, “Do you know what Harper did when we went out to dinner? He talked about you the entire time.”

“He did?”

Dallas dragged his hands over his face and muttered, “You’re both disasters. Seriously. I think the only reason he even expressed an interest in me is because I look like you, and you were constantly shooting him down. I let it go on for a while, because let’s face it, he’s gorgeous and I was flattered by all the flowers and gifts while I was out on tour. But after a while, I got tired of once again being treated like a poor substitute for my perfect twin.”

The laugh that slipped from me sounded harsher than I’d intended it. “Yeah, right. I’m the perfect twin, and you’re the one who gets treated like a poor substitute.”

“That’s how it felt growing up,” he said, as he crossed the gray and white living room and perused the bottles on the bar. “You were the straight-A student, the musical prodigy, the perfect son, while I was always just the dope running to catch up.”

“Well hey, life’s funny, isn’t it? Because guess which one of us ended up making millions in our dream job?”

“Yeah. Go figure. But that wasn’t because I was the more talented one, or even the one who wanted it more.” He poured two shots of bourbon into a pair of cut crystal tumblers, then handed me one. Dallas tapped his glass to mine and said, “Cheers to the total fucking randomness of the universe.”

He brought the bottle along as we went and sat on the white leather sofa, and after a moment I asked, “Do you really think I’m more talented than you are?”

“Yes, and so does everyone else.”

“Not everyone. Not the producer who gave you your first record deal.”

“He liked the fact that I was rough around the edges,” Dallas said. He drained his glass, and then he added, “He also really liked the way I sucked his dick. That’s what sealed the deal.”

I turned to stare at my twin as his words sunk in. “You never told me that.”

“I was too ashamed to say anything for a long time, but enough is enough. You deserve to know the whole story. It wasn’t because I was better than you. I was just willing to do things that you weren’t.”

“I can’t believe you kept that secret all these years.”

Dallas wasn’t looking at me. He sat there fidgeting with his glass as he said, “I always looked up to you, my big brother by seventeen minutes.” His smile was tinged with sadness. “I wanted you and Mom and Dad to be proud of me, so I didn’t tell you the truth.” He finally met my gaze and said, “Please don’t tell our parents. They’d be so disappointed in me.”

“I’ll never tell a soul. I swear.”

After a pause, he said, “You deserve this career, not me. Like I said, you’ve always been the talented one, and I’d change places with you if I could.”

“Like hell you don’t deserve it. I never got a record deal because I’m not a great performer. But you are.” I put my glass down, then moved closer and rested my hand on my brother’s shoulder. “Your fans adore you, and your music and concerts are fantastic. That’s why you’re a huge success. It’s not because of what you felt you had to do to get that first record deal.”

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