Identity Crisis

|Chapter One| In Which Sisters Create Chaos

|Chapter One| In Which Sisters Create Chaos

"So, how much?" The lady confronts me once again, her lip curled in a half-snarl.

I roll my eyes at her blatant rudeness. I'm a person, too; my sister isn't the only important one here.

"I'm sorry. I don't take orders for Alexis' fans," I tell the woman, plastering a smile on my face. She scowls at me, baring her teeth, and I find myself picturing her as a pitbull.

If the shoe fits...

"Girl, I know for a fact that you do take orders. No wonder your twin is the famous one... you're just rude and annoying. Not to mention a liar."

I gape at this woman, this stranger, who so boldly makes verbal jabs at me. "Excuse me? My sister is famous because she can sing, not because people just decided she had a nice personality."

I love my twin sister, Alexis, but her fans make me want to stab something with a pencil. The sharp end of a pencil, I might add.

"Oh, so she's more talented than you as well. I see. No wonder you're a bitter mess."

The insufferable woman continues chipping away at my patience as we stand in the line at the grocery store. This is actually normal; Alexis' fans approach me often with requests for her autograph (or mine, if they mistake me for my twin) and her exclusive merch. Alexis Maddlestone is a name known internationally, while I, Avery, am known on a more national basis as the girl who is lucky enough to be related to Alexis. My twin sister is one of the most famous pop singers in the world.

Being approached in a public place has become a familiar situation.

"I just want 'er autograph," the woman says again, and I face her with a sigh.

"Order her signed merch at her website or try to hunt her down, okay? I'm Alexis' sister, not her saleswoman." I twist back around, gripping the loaf of bread I came here to buy. Next time, I'll send Richard, our butler, here.

The woman is obviously not one to give up. As I place my bread on the counter to be rung up, she taps my arm again. I plaster a polite smile on my face and carefully turn to her again.

"Yes?"

"I've got some cash here, and I'm willing to pay a little extra if you'll meet me here tomorrow with the autogra-"

I don't even listen to the rest of her offer; I pay for my stupid loaf of bread and stalk out of the grocery store. Bread is not worth this infernal annoyance.

I pull my car keys out of my purse, trying to recall where I parked my Audi. Row six? Row seven?

"Avery!"

I close my eyes. Two fans in less than five minutes? Can I move to some private island in the middle of the Atlantic?

"Avery?" The male voice is closer and less sure now.

I face the boy grudgingly. A smile graces my face immediately. "Ethan?"

He smiles, too. "I thought I'd gotten the wrong girl. You know, you could always send someone else to get the groceries. I saw you tense up when I called your name. Fan trouble?"

Ethan is Alexis' tour partner; in one week, they're setting off on Alexis' first world tour. Ethan is about 6'4" with toned arms and a military style buzz cut. He's got the voice of a freaking angel and more guitar skills than Chris Daughtry's guitarist. I've only met him a couple of times, but he can already distinguish between Alexis and me with ease.

"You know me so well," I laugh. "Yeah, a really rude woman in the grocery store."

He catches up to me and walks with me to my car (row six, I figure out). "Just start pretending you're Alexis and sign their shopping bags or something," he suggests, opening my car door for me.