Page 13 of Van Cort

EVERETT

By the time Andre pulls up outside the building, I’m about done with every person on the planet. I should be pleased with the day’s dealings, and the relatively informative evening with Andie, but I’m far from satisfied with either. Probably because I’m not in control.

The ride up in the private elevator gives me time to stare at myself and remember times past. Mirrors surround the inside of the space, amplifying the reflecting image.

Eye’s – pale green. Hair – black as the night.

Skin – a never-ending light tan that hollows under sharp bones.

It’s all served me well. Women have always liked it, and it delivers enough of a vacant expression to never give anything away.

Yet under all that are memories and a haunted counterpart.

He lives in constant reflection, always analysing, always attempting to reveal the reality.

The moment the elevator doors open, I realise something’s wrong. Or right.

My hackles pitch in recognition, and I look around the darkened space.

Everything’s still and as it usually is, but I know these genes in me, and they know who they’re missing.

The corners of my mouth tip up as I move into the kitchen area and dump my wallet and phone. I’m not sure if I thought this day would ever come, and whilst part of me has been content with that, the other has been desperate for reconnection.

“I know you’re here,” I murmur.

Footsteps sound near the guest bedrooms. They’re deliberately slow, just like mine. Heavier, though. Still. “How did you get in?” I brace the countertop and wait, staring at the sound getting closer to me. “This is going to be a dull reunion if you don’t speak.”

“Reunion? No.” He turns into the space I’m in and leans on the doorframe, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a folder. “Anniversary. And honestly, getting into anything that you do isn’t hard. You know that.”

It’s been so long I’d almost forgotten the precise replication staring back at me. Same eyes, same hair, same skin. I look over his suit, amused that he’s bothered going for the exact same look I choose to dress in.

“Busy day in the office, brother?” he asks. “Oh no, you haven’t been, have you? Well, you have, but you haven’t.” My eyes narrow as he kicks off the frame and walks back into the lounge area. “Come see your gift.”

I move to follow him and eventually find him sitting on the sectional in front of the music box he sent me an image of. My head rears back slightly, unable to stop itself.

He points at the folder next to it. “That’s for you.

An efficient man with a stake up his ass gave it to me today.

Interesting read.” I move to take it and open it, dismissing the box for now.

Philip’s marriage contract is bound neatly in it.

“It reads like a prison sentence. Who the fuck would want to marry that? Honestly, brother, still so lacking in romance.” I throw the damn thing back on the table.

“I suppose that’s your style, though. Always was. Cold.”

“Who else did you talk to at the office?”

“There was this cute, organised brunette who seemed to know a lot about what you were doing. Your PA, I assume. She was quite confused at you being there. Asked why you weren’t at Pearson’s.

” I was. “Have you fucked her? I didn’t, by the way.

Maybe tomorrow.” Devon needs a vacation.

I go back to the kitchen and swipe my phone, sending her a text to tell her to take the next two weeks off.

“And some other guy who wanted your signature for a piece of land you’ve been thinking about buying.

I signed for you. You’re welcome.” Fuck.

“Where?” I shout through the rooms.

“I don’t know. Don’t care either.” Jesus.

I walk back into the lounge. “How much?”

He snorts and picks up a glass of whiskey he’s helped himself to. “Why should that matter to me? I’m not here for that. Drink?”

“No.”

He pours me one anyway, as a text comes back from Devon, nothing but question marks as the response.

Just do it, Devon. You could use the break.

Okay, thank you.

I throw the phone back on the table, irritated that I’ve just lost my only sanity in this world of constancy.

“Have you given her time off now and spoiled some of my plans? So serious.” He laughs and picks the folder up, flicking through it. “Sit. Have a drink, Rhett.” Everything about me stiffens at the sound of him calling me that. Only two people ever have.

I snarl, to myself mainly, and walk over to sit opposite him.

“Why are you here, West?”

“Europe and the rest of the world became tiresome. Twenty years is a long time. How do I look?” I frown.

Look? He looks good. Like me. Still. “Took a little time to let the tan fade. And then there was this stiff as fuck haircut and clothing that I’ve seen on you the last few years.

Slightly surprised at the latter, to be honest. There was a time when you were more carefree than this formality.

” Carefree. I’ve never been that. As he well knows.

“How have you seen me the last few years?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re everywhere I am, Rhett. Online. It’s fucking dull. But once I’d made a decision, it was useful to see you again and hear your voice. This,” he points to his hair, his body, is overall appearance. “Is not me.”

“It could have been.”

“Hmm. Well. It isn’t. Do you really intend to give whoever you’re thinking about marrying five million a year?” I’m not discussing that.

“What decision are you talking about, West?”

“And a fifteen-million bonus every ten years? Lucky girl.” He drops the folder open beside him.

“Is it your little blonde-haired thing? I didn’t even know her name until I read these papers.

She is quite lovely. Feisty for you, though.

Although, tight little cunt. Far more our style.

” He smiles and lounges back. “She thought I was you. Called your name while I rutted into her against the wall.” Despite my rising jealousy regarding that, I stay passive and keep staring.

“No reaction at all, Rhett? It doesn’t irritate you that I dabbled in your belongings?

What’s yours is mine. You remember, don’t you? ”

“She doesn’t belong to me.”

He runs his fingers over the text on the contract.

“You’d like her to, though. These papers prove it.

Mrs Andie Van Cort. Or is she Andrea? And then a child will come for Van Cort.

” He looks at his own signet ring. “Yours or mine? Wouldn’t matter really, would it?

The old man would be pleased. Do you think we’ll have a son? ”

We stare at each other, both of us using the same manipulative smile that we used years ago.

I’d like to say I’m uninterested in the thought of game playing with him, but it’s difficult to deny the very genes inside me.

Especially when he’s close. We are the same, in every way.

Same nature, same ability to outmanoeuvre each other. Same tendencies.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” he asks.

“I don’t anymore.”

“Really? Well, that’s fucking dull too. Does that make you sane these days?”

“I was never insane.”

“Debatable.”

Eventually, he slowly removes the tie from his neck and flicks his top button open. “I don’t know how the fuck you do this every day. It’s restrictive as hell. I’d have to drink all day to manage it.”

“It’s called being a grown-up, West. You wouldn’t understand.”

“And why is that?” I look at the music box, annoyed that the latent guilt made me.

“Say her name for me.” No. I snort at the attempt to aggravate me, though, and look back at him.

“Go on. You must think about her. I do. I remember her running through the forest sometimes, smiling and laughing, from me and towards you. Wrong direction really.”

“Enough, West. What do you want?”

“To engage.”

“In what?”

“You. And your new little thing.” My eyes narrow.

“Why?”

“I deserve it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“All this time and you’re denying me some fun?”

I laugh and shake my head. “I’m sure you’ve had plenty of fun without any interference from anyone and the very healthy trust fund you’ve had since our nineteenth.”

“It’s barely livable compared to the lion’s share you now have.

Should be half and half, shouldn’t it?” My teeth grit at the inference and part truth in it, despite nothing of this company or holdings being his.

“You’re only a few minutes older than me, Rhett.

That’s the only difference between us. My name is still Van Cort, and, after careful consideration, I’ve decided I deserve compensation. ”

“Compensation? For what?”

He leans forward and pours another drink.

“Emotional torment. Daddy dearest agreed.” I frown at the mention of Father and wait for more information.

“Although he was fucking senile by the end. He enjoyed listening to the story, though. Exactly how it happened. Every fucking detail. He laughed at it.” He downs his large double in one gulp.

“I nearly killed him for that. Didn’t, though.

I decided the time would come for revenge, and it wasn’t really him I wanted to aim at, despite his faults. ”

We stare at each other again, and a sigh of regret wants to leave me. “You visited him?”

“A few times. As you. He never knew. You were quite persuasive about me being able to have half the fortune. I almost got him to sign, but then the asshole died and that opportunity was lost.”

“He never would have signed anything. He knew the difference between us. I have the scars to prove it.”

“Scars?” He snorts. “The only scars on you are in your fucked-up head.” He smiles and gets up, walking over to a run of sculptures I’ve got on a sideboard.

“Still, that’s the one thing I’ve kept remembering, because you deserve that pain, Rhett.

” He fingers a small, black marble bust. “And I’m going to help you along with remembering what happened.

We’re going to play. Like adults rather than the children we used to be.

I’m really very good at being you now. I’ve had plenty of time to learn how to be callous as fuck.

” One flick of his fingers and the delicate sculpture tumbles and crashes to the floor, shattering.

“If you don’t agree, well, I’ll make things difficult. ”

I look at the ten-thousand-dollar art on the floor. “Not a child anymore, no?” He moves on to the next one, a companion piece, and fingers that. “Don’t.” It crashes to the floor with the same amount of gentle persuasion as the first.

“Imagine the damage I can do when I really put some effort into it.” The same amount as me, I would think. “And you’re quite capable of destruction. We already know that.”

I stand and look away from him, frustrated with whatever he’s not getting around to actually saying. “This is ridiculous. What do you want? Half of everything?”

He snorts. “I don’t need your money. It’s not going to be that easy.”

“What then?”

“I don’t really know. To fuck something up? To take something you want and watch you deal with how that feels? Maybe I’ll do what you did twenty years ago, see how you like it.” I stop and turn back to him, frowning. “That’s it, Rhett, you’ve got it. It’s my turn now.”

“Fuck you, West.” His eyebrow cocks, and a low, bitter-sounding laugh trickles out into the air. “We’re not children anymore. Get out.”

He laughs. “And where would you like me?” I walk out of the room, heading for anywhere he’s not.

“Back to the office? I suppose I could. Or over to fuck Andie again?” I look back at him, sharply, overly irritated with that response.

He widens his arms, mock bowing. “Come on, brother. You know you’ll enjoy it.

This full-time grown-up crap doesn’t suit you.

And you must have known this would come.

After all, you’re me, aren’t you? Worse really. Or so you thought.”

I need some space from him, and I might just be able to think of a way out of this situation.

“There isn’t a way out of this,” he calls.

“Everything you think of, I’ve got an answer to.

Every move you make, I’ll counter.” Fuck.

“You could go tell her now, I suppose. Go on. Pick up the phone.” I stare at the table I’ve arrived back at, willing the phone lying there to make a call for me.

“It’s the sensible thing to do. Tell her I’ve already been inside her so she can be free of this before it starts.

” Sensible. But now a small part of me, despite the surprise, is churning inside with possibilities.

Slow footsteps come into the room behind me again, and I can’t help but listen to the similarity and remember. “You owe me this, Rhett, and you know it.” I swallow and lift my gaze to the window instead of doing what I should, almost nodding. “You owe me reparations.”