Page 4 of Fractured Destiny

She sets the folder on the desk. Slides it toward me. “I need to make things right.”

She wants to make things right? I’ve spent three fucking years writing songs to a woman who, apparently, isn’t real. Dreaming of a day I’d run into her.

Now she wants to make things right?

The fuck.

Some animal part of me already knows, the way air goes wrong before a storm. Every cell in my body screams at me not to touch this folder because once I read what’s inside, there’s no turning back.

I open it anyway.

Out spills a stack of paperwork. A photograph of a small child with dark hair. Light-green eyes I’ve seen many times before.

In the mirror.

I feel very far away. Like I’m hovering from above and witnessing this nightmare scene in a dream.

“His name is Levi.” Her voice cracks down the middle. “He’s two years old. You’re his biological father. The DNA records are inside. I was dealing with some personal issues but I didn’t want to wait any longer to let you know.”

“How—”

Linus reaches over and grips my wrist. “I took some hair from your brush a few weeks ago when I met you in Orlando. I wasn’t going to disrupt your life until there was proof.”

I don’t stand up. I can’t. My legs have stopped being mine.

For three years I’ve tried to sing her out of my system.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of times.

I couldn’t have guessed my lyrics were never about a woman who left.

They were about a son I’ve never got to hold.

one

Three Years Earlier

Tonight could make or break me.

I’m pacing The Mission’s green room. Eight minutes until stage call. The man across from me hasn’t said a word to appease my nerves.

He won’t. It’s not his job.

Linus O’Donnell doesn’t fill silence. He’s here to assess me. Waiting to hear if I’m worth his time.

I shouldn’t be nervous. I’ve played this room before. Twice as a Rainier Foundation kid. The first time, I opened for Less Than Zero. Last summer, I was on a four-band bill.

Tonight is different. My name is on the marquee and I’m headlining a sold-out show. Eight hundred people are waiting for me, not realizing the big Irish guy could change my life if he decides to manage me.

Six years ago at a music showcase in Tacoma, LTZ’s lead singer, Tyson Rainier, was the first person who recognized my talent. I was almost sixteen, playing a guitar my foster brother Diego glued together at the kitchen table the morning after my foster smashed it to bits.

A few Jimi Hendrix songs later, he asked my name. One of the most famous rock stars in the world saw something in me.

A year later, I was on my way to Seattle as one of the inaugural recipients of a grant from his non-profit. The Rainier Foundation paid for a new guitar, lessons and rent for a year. Helped me get a job bussing tables and taught me how to book gigs. Produced three songs for my demo, and a few months ago, he walked me into Linus’s office and said, “Keep your eye on this one.”

Unbeknownst to me, Linus scouted me for months. Industry events. Gigs I didn’t know he was at. Tonight he arranged for me to headline at the biggest club in Seattle, to see how I do in front of a big crowd.

I owe Ty everything. More, if Isis Management signs me.