Your fingers tremble as they fly over the pad of your phone. "Sorry to bother you so soon," you say when Patterson picks up. You try to suppress the quaver in your voice. "But something just happened out here."
"What?" he asks in a stony tone.
"No disaster. Just fucking awkward." You take a deep breath. "I warned you Caleb and Keith would come snooping. Well, they did. Just now. They must've been hiding nearby, and tried breaking in after you left."
"What did they see?"
"Nothing. That is, they didn't see Chelsea. They didn't even see the golem. But, um ... Well, I had to pretend I was you in order to get rid of them." He's silent. "I mean, I pretended that I was you pretending to be me. That is, I pretended that they'd caught ... you ... wearing a mask of me. And I yelled at them."
Again the line is silent. And then comes the last sound you'd have expected: soft laughter. "Oh, Jesus," he gasps. "That sounds awesome. I'd have paid a ridiculous amount of money to see that. Did they buy it?"
"Tilley did. I'm not sure about Caleb."
"Did they go?" You grunt an affirmative. "Okay, no harm done. Well handled, Prescott. You're starting to impress me," he says, and his tone sounds genuinely warm. "I'll yell at them tomorrow. Again, I guess."
"Please, don't—"
"I won't do anything to them. Sounds like you put the fear of me into them. I'll just nail the impression in place. Christ, it hasn't even been five minutes," he continues. "I guess you haven't, uh, had any fun yet."
"No," you admit. "It was kinda lucky I hadn't really ... gotten started."
"Alright." He seems to hesitate, as though weighing options. Then: "I'll talk to you soon."
You hang up with a frown. Soon. You look back down at the golem, and at the mask. The desire to do anything with it has waned. And yet it seems a shame to let the opportunity go to waste.
Seized by a sudden thought, you dash back out to your truck and retrieve your kit, from which you draw your laptop. The nearby rec center has a wifi connection, and you're able to launch the browser with no problem. Then you return Chelsea's mask to the golem. She reappears with a pout. "You know, all this winking in and out of existence is going to give me wrinkles," she complains.
"Never mind. You're gonna have fun."
"Really?" She draws away from you.
"Not like that. Well, not yet," you add. "You're gonna check your messages." You indicate the laptop.
"Oooh!" Her eyes light up, and she sits eagerly at the keyboard.
You have to stifle a laugh. "Do you often check your stuff in the nude?"
"Things are always coming in while I'm in the shower," she sniffs. "It's like the way running water causes the phone or doorbell to ring."
You sit next to her, leaning in close, and can't resist putting an arm around her waist to clasp her hip and thigh. "You think I'm cute," you say, trying to mimic Patterson's commanding tone of the night before. "You think I'm cute and funny, and you really like me."
She turns toward you, a quizzical expression on her face. Her gaze softens as you gaze directly back at her. "Yeah, you are cute," she says. "I like your little beard." She lightly pinches the long, thin stubble. "When was the last time you shaved?"
"About three weeks ago," you admit.
"Gordon can't grow a beard either, but he shaves every day, so I never get one of those to play with." She continues to finger the whiskers, then brushes your upper lip. "I bet those tickle when you're kissing a girl."
"Mmm," is all you say. "How about you concentrate on your messages. Just let me hold you and touch you." Your cock is rising, but the intimacy without the effort is very nice. She turns back to the screen as you settle your other hand on one of her breasts. It is large and firm, and the nipple hardens as you brush a finger against it.
She types away while you press your nose into her hair and sniff. "Oh my God," she says, but you're still drawing in the perfume of shampoo and conditioner and the fragrances of Chelsea herself. "I didn't write any of these!"
"No, the real Chelsea did," you murmur. "Ow!" She has turned her head, banging sharply into your nose.
"What do you mean, 'the real Chelsea'?" she demands.
"You're a fake. You're just a copy." She frowns. "Didn't you realize that? It's why you keep going in and out of existence."
Her eyes cloud even as they widen. "You mean there's another one of me out there?" Fear shows in her eyes. "The ... the real me?"
"Well, yeah." You are suddenly seized by alarm at her reaction. Chelsea Cooper, realizing that she has a duplicate that is living her life while she's stuck in a grimy basement with ... you: What might she do? "Don't worry about it," you say firmly. "You don't mind being a copy. You want to help me."
Her expression remains stony for a moment, and then she shrugs. "Yeah, sure," she says, though without enthusiasm. She returns her hands to the keyboard. "I'd rather help you out there than here, though," she murmurs. "But okay." She looks back at you. "You are cute, whatever your name is."
"Will," you mutter, but she doesn't seem to hear you.
Again, she has managed to kill the mood, and you turn your attention to the screen as she checks her various accounts. Most of what shows up doesn't make sense to you, though Chelsea keeps clucking her tongue. But then messages pertaining to Kendra, and to Lisa, begin to show up.
Chelsea makes a hissing noise. "Kendra is so full of shit." She clicks back and forth between messages, bringing herself up to speed. "The fuck does she mean that she wasn't at my house—" She checks the date on your screen. "Last night. That's where she told me about— Oh, God!" She checks another message. "Two-faced little bitch. I'm gonna have to sic Gloria on her." She catches herself. "Or I would. Or it looks like I will."
"What's going on?"
"Get this, she shows up at my house with some bullshit story about Amanda and Ricky Golia having a fight. You know them? Oh, of course you do, I've seen you at school. She said it was about Kelsey—"
"Yeah, I know all that," you interject. "Just, what happened today?"
"Well, I guess I talked to Amanda about it today at school. Only they weren't having a fight, they got caught making out— Ooooh! They must've had most of their clothes off, or it wouldn't be a huge thing. I wish I knew what I said to Amanda and what she said. No, wait, I don't, it would have been hugely embarrassing. It must've been. I can tell by what I said to Kendra here." She clicks on another message. "Yeah, we must've talked on the phone. Or at school. Is there a fake Kendra running around?"
"Sometimes," you admit.
Her eyes narrow. "So if you let her out to screw things up, how about letting me out to fix things?"
"It wouldn't work," you start.
But then the door opens. You look up, and your jaw drops.
You are standing in the door. "There's a fake one of you too?" Chelsea squeaks in your ear.
Of course, even before the other you speaks, you've figured it out. "We make a cute couple, don't we?" Patterson says, and closes the door. "I've never tried that position with a girl."
"We're catching up on some Chelsea's emails and stuff."
"Interesting angle." He grins. "I hadn't thought of doing that, either."
"Well, we've got a problem." You try explaining what you've found, but after a bit Patterson waves you silence.
"It doesn't matter, dude. Who gives a fuck if Chelsea's pissed at Kendra? You don't count," he adds as the golem raises her hand.
"But what if someone catches on," you protest. "Kendra's swearing up and down she wasn't at Chelsea's house yesterday."
"Catch on?" Patterson laughs. "You mean, someone will figure out there are duplicates running around?"
"Well, what if the doubles run into each other? I mean, we've had to keep the originals busy while Caleb and Keith and me have been—"
"Yeah, and we'll keep doing that," Patterson says. "As for stirring up trouble, don't you get it yet? That's half the fun!" He grins. "Kind of like what you did to Caleb and Tilley a little while ago." You start to object, but fall silent at an impatient gesture from him. "Get your dick out the wringer. That's part of what we're doing right now, figuring out how to go out in public without getting caught. After we get it figured out, and after you guys have your quota of masks—" He grins. "Then we can really start having fun."
"Like what?"
"All in good time, dude, all in good time." He tugs off his shirt and lazily scratches at his—your—shallow chest. "Right now— Well, after talking to you on the phone I decided I wanted to screw around a little."
"As me?" You pale a little.
"Yeah, but only in here. Now, who do you want to be? We still got Caleb's mask. I can be you, and you can be your best friend. Or you can be Chelsea. Don't you want to know what your own cock feels like?" His eyes glint. "Tell you what, you let me take you as Chelsea, and after we'll switch. I'll be Chelsea and you can be yourself. Or Caleb, if you want it really kinky."
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