Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“I certainly can’t find out what it is. We’re not her family.”
“You can find out.”
He’s right. We can. But hacking into medical records is a huge invasion of privacy. I didn’t particularly like it when Dad and Uncle Bryce did it to Brittany. Though, I’ll admit, I’m glad we have the information.
“All right. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that I can find out. I can get Sabrina Smith’s medical records, and I can find out her diagnosis, and perhaps I’m able to help her.”
“Your mom is a renowned psychiatrist,” Pat says. “One of the best in the nation.”
“She is, but number one, she’s retired, and number two, she specializes in childhood trauma. Not geriatric trauma.”
“Still, she’s the best. She could treat my grandmother.”
“From what I could see, your grandmother is comatose.”
“It’s a medically induced coma. For her own protection.”
“How old is she?”
“In her eighties. I don’t know her exact birthdate.”
“That’s easy enough to find. We’ll pull her birth certificate. Why haven’t you done that?”
“I did.”
“Let me guess… She, like you, technically doesn’t exist.”
“Bingo.” Pat meets my gaze.
“Interesting. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to erase you and your grandmother from existence.”
“I know. I thought it was odd that my grandmother’s birth certificate couldn’t be found, but when you came to me earlier today and told me I didn’t have a birth certificate… Well, it got me to thinking.”
“So now you’re thinking.”
“Yeah. I just want to know who I am, Steel. If I’m a Steel, great. I won’t take any of your cash. Whether I’m entitled to it or not. But I need this woman lucid. I need the information she has trapped inside her head.”
“How do you know you’re even related to her?”
“Well… I…”
“Oh, spit it out. Do you really think it’s worse than anything else you’ve done?”
“All right. I paid one of the phlebotomists to get me a blood sample from Sabrina. Then I ran a DNA test. I’m definitely her grandchild.”
“I see.”
“I’ve offered to do a DNA test to prove I’m a Steel as well.”
“I know that. But as we’ve told you, a DNA test, when we’re talking about a half sibling from three generations back, may not be conclusive.”
“But it could show something. It could show that I’m at least related in some way.”
Funny. If I were Dad and Uncle Bryce, I would have gotten the DNA test right away. But for some reason, they haven’t pushed it.
Damn, they’re still keeping secrets.
Well, I’m done with this.
It’s time to figure things out.
“There’s one more thing,” Pat says.
“What’s that?”
“When I had the DNA tests run on my grandmother, it matched with some DNA on file elsewhere.”
“How do you know that?”
“The person I hired to run the test has access to the criminal databases.”
“And…?”
“All he would say is that Sabrina Smith is an alias.”
“Let me guess. He wants money.”
“Bingo,” Pat says again.
“Fine. How much does he want? I’ll gladly pay it.”
“Ten grand.”
“Pocket change.”
Pat stiffens.
Yeah, that was a cheap shot, but what the fuck?
Pat pulls his wallet out of his pocket, opens it, and hands me a card.
“Here you go. Give him a call, wire the money, and he’ll give you the name.”
“Consider it done.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
RORY
Jesse and I walk to the front of the stage, he without his guitar this time.
Jake begins on guitar, Cage on keyboard tonight instead of bass, and then Dragon on drums.
Our intro, and then—
Jesse and I, in perfect harmony.
And damn…
It’s magic onstage.
The high. It’s almost effervescent in its intensity. And Jesse… I see it on his face. Letting go of the guitar has freed him in a way I’ve never seen him before. He throws himself into the music, vocalizes. And his voice…
The deepness of his baritone, combined with my alto that can even extend into the male range.
I don’t go into my head voice at all for this set, and man… It’s freeing.
In that moment, I leave opera behind forever.
We do a few covers, and then we move to original pieces. Cage writes all the music, and he, Jesse, and Dragon write lyrics.
I’ve never been a composer, but I used to write poetry.
I’m going to write some lyrics. Have Cage set them to music.
Perhaps I’ve found my true calling now.
This silly pink mask helps me. Jesse and I, both masked, break out of our molds.
I free myself from the chains that have bound me to opera.
And I sing…
I throw myself into it, become one with it, relish the harmonizing.
I sing with my brother. We sing to the accompaniment of Cage, Jake, and Dragon.
I sing to the audience as they cheer, whistle, enjoy every minute of this performance.
I simply sing.
An encore. And then another.
The audience continues clapping, cheering, whistling, yelling encore.
But we never do more than two encores.
We leave the stage, and I head straight to the ladies’ room.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
BROCK
“This is Brock Steel,” I say into the phone. “I’m looking for Amos Dugard.”