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“I’m his twin.”
“Sure you are. I’ve read up on you. Did internet searches. I’ve never seen anything about a brother. Twin or otherwise. Nice try.”
Damn Mars and his thorough team of publicists. For the first time I wish they hadn’t been able to keep me tucked away. “My name is Archer. I prefer to stay out of the public eye, so when Mars started his career, we decided I’d write his songs, but nothing else. No appearing in public with him. No interviews. I became a non-person.”
She points to her laptop on the coffee table. “With all the social media, all the cameras following you around, I find that difficult to believe.”
“They follow Marcus. Look, pull up Mars’ website.”
Arching one brow, she shifts to boot the computer and rests it on her thighs. “Okay, now what?”
With the seriousness of this moment, I have to hide my grin when her browser opens on that page. “Enlarge the picture on the about page and take a look at his ear.”
Shaking her head, she rolls her gaze to the ceiling then does as I ask. “It’s an ear. Looks pretty normal to me.”
I pull back the shorter strands covering my ear and turn my head. “Now look at my ear. See any difference?”
Her frown deepens as she flips her gaze from my ear to the screen and back again. “Your ear is different. There’s a crease, a tiny bend in the upper shell. It’s not smooth like in the photo.”
“We are, obviously, identical twins. There’s only a couple differences between us. My ear is one. I was born with the crease. It was the only way our folks could tell us apart.”
“The photo online could have been flipped to hide the imperfection.”
She’s not going to give me an inch. “Look at other photos. I think there’s a straight on one that shows both ears.”
Waiting while she studies the photos, I clasp my hands and let them hang between my knees. “I can’t show you my legal ID. When I’m pretending to be my brother, I carry a duplicate of his identification. Just in case.”
“You said there are two differences between you and Marcus?”
My heart leaps with hope and joy. Whether she realizes it or not, she’s made the distinction between my brother and me. Telling myself her belief isn’t a done deal and to remain calm I turn my face to her. “I can’t carry a tune.”
“What? No, that can’t be right. I know I haven’t heard any of the music you’ve written here, but when I gathered it together I saw enough of the notations to know you’re legit.”
“Thanks. But just because I hear the music in my head and can transpose that onto paper, doesn’t mean I can sing it. I sound like if a sea gull and a walrus had a baby.”
She chuckles then covers her mouth with her hand. “It can’t be that bad.”
“You asked for it. Pull up one of Mars’ songs and I’ll show you.”
The introduction to one of his older ballads plays from the laptop’s small speakers. I let the song play until the first chorus. Then I release the kraken that is my voice.
“Stop. Stop,” she says less than a minute later. “That is truly horrible.”
“I know. I don’t even sing Happy Birthday to anyone. I just mouth the words.”
“Mars is a good enough singer, he could conceivably pretend to be unable to sing.”
“Why would anyone want to pretend their singing is this bad?”
She closes the laptop. “To prove a point.”
This isn’t going well. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I lean against the back of the couch. Other than having Mars here standing next to me, I’m not sure what else I can do to convince Bailey.
“And your name is Archer?”
The soft question stills my breathing and I turn my face to her. “Yes. I have always been, and will always be, Archer Adam Kane.”
“What is Marcus’ middle name?”
