"It depends. They'll probably have a PR person who can help. So, how come you never had any accounts before?"
I chew on my lower lip. Saying my parents wouldn't let me sounds lamer than lame. What had I told them before? "I've been focused on school."
"Seriously?" She glances up at me.
"Yeah."
"Your parents hyper-religious or something?"
I laugh at the ridiculousness of the question. "No, but they were super-strict. While everyone else was Googling information for their assignments, I was using encyclopedias."
"For real?"
"Unfortunately."
"Lame. You didn't sneak to use someone else's phone or anything?"
I shake my head and try to think of something else to talk about. The fact that everyone in school despised me is the last thing I want to discuss.
"I totally would have. Oh, look at this cake." She points to the menu and gushes about the chocolate and caramel.
Embarrassment averted.
Kenna
We're all outside, circled around Ellis's bonfire with beers and wine coolers in hand. Lathe finishes a joke, and everyone bursts into laughter. Rogan glances over at me and smiles.
I nearly melt right off the chair. He's unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and his hair is messy. I wouldn't have thought he could look better than he did when we left his house, but somehow he does.
The door to the house opens, and out walks a guy who looks like Ellis, only taller and with darker hair. He grabs a beer from the cooler and sits in an empty chair on the other side of Rogan.
"Dayton, my man." Rogan gives the new guy a high-five.
"What's up, losers?" Dayton twists off the cap and downs half of it in practically one gulp.
Rogan turns to me. "That's Ellis's brother."
Lathe fills Dayton in on the news about the agent.
"Frost Amberley? Nice going. Don't forget about me when you guys are so big your heads won't fit through the door."
Everyone talks about the contract, and I play with my nearly-full wine cooler.
Before long, everyone is getting up. I realize we're heading inside to watch a movie. My stomach twists. Hopefully I can get through it like a normal person. If I can't pull myself together, I'll likely be the next Cove—replaced by someone else.
I leave my bottle next to a tree, hoping no one will notice that I barely had any. Inside, we all settle on the couches. Again, Dayton sits by Rogan.
Rogan puts his arm around me and turns to Ellis's brother. "You still got that one friend who can hack into anything?"
I snap my attention to them, curious to know where the conversation is headed.
Dayton stretches an arm across the back of the couch. "Yeah, but now I can do most of what he can. Why?"
"We're having trouble getting a birth certificate."
My breath catches in my throat.
Dayton's brows knit together. "You asking me to break into a government database?"
Rogan stiffens. "Well, not if you—"
Dayton shoves him. "I'm just bustin' your chops! Yeah, I can get in there. You don't need anything forged, do you? You'll need Benny for that."
"No, we just need an actual document."
"Sure, no problem. After the movie, we'll head up to my room."
Rogan squeezes my hand. I try to squeeze back, but I'm not sure I actually move a muscle.
Lathe turns off the lights and starts a movie. I can't focus. Am I about to find out my parents' names? Will I be able to learn all I ever wanted about my history? Can I visit their graves and find some people who knew them—friends who might tell me about them? The possibilities seem endless.
The movie goes on forever. It finally ends after what feels like a week of waiting. Ellis pulls Shay upstairs, and Ashton leaves with Poppy. Lathe and Tiana are all over each other on the other couch.
Dayton claps his hands. "Who's ready for some hacking?"
My stomach lurches.
Rogan helps me up and puts his arm around me. We follow Dayton upstairs. Rogan squeezes my shoulder. "I was surprised you didn't want to leave the movie. I'm really proud of you."
"Huh?" I meet his gaze.
"Well, during that one scene."
"Oh, I guess I didn't notice."
He arches a brow.
"My mind was elsewhere."
Rogan nods knowingly. We follow Dayton into a messy bedroom.
He sits at a desk, shoves some empty bottles aside, and opens a laptop. "Just throw that stuff off the bed."
Rogan shoves a bunch of clothes and random stuff onto the floor, and we sit on the unmade bed.
Dayton hunches his shoulders and the keyboard clicks and clacks as he types at lightning speed.
Rogan puts his arm around me.
I can barely breathe, and not because of the odd odor I can't place. It's like a mixture of pine, motor oil, and ranch sauce.
"What am I going to be looking for?" Dayton asks.
Rogan glances at me, and I nod. He explains the situation.
Am I going to know who I really am? Not Kenna Mitchell, but Kenna something-else. Will I be able to enter my parents' names into a search engine and find pictures of them? Maybe I'll recognize them.
Rogan kisses my temple. "No matter what happens, I'm here for you, babe."
Babe. I like that. Unable to reply, I lean my head against his and try to calm my breathing.
Dayton's typing becomes even faster. "I'm in! There are safeguards up, but even so, I can't stay in too long. What's the name?"
I lean forward, trying to see the screen. "Kenna Mitchell."
More typing. "Nothing. Is Kenna short for something? McKenna? Mackenzie?"
"Nope. Just Kenna."
"Hmm. Another last name?"
I twist a strand of hair around my finger. "I'm pretty sure I had a different last name when I was born, but my adoptive parents haven't told me anything."
"That sucks. Okay, give me a minute to try something else." Dayton types again, and I try to see around him.
Rogan pulls me into his lap and rubs my shoulders.
Dayton turns. "I'm still getting nothing. Do you have a Sosh?"
"Sosh?"
Rogan wraps his arms around me. "I think he means Social Security Number."
"Yep." Dayton spins around. "Lay it on me."
I recite the numbers I memorized long ago.
Dayton types, then says nothing.
I hold my breath. Did he find something?
"I think I typed that wrong. Say it again."
"Okay." I repeat the numbers, going slower this time.
He types. "Hmm…"
"What?" I try to jump up, but Rogan's arms prevent me from moving.
Dayton glances back. "One more time."
I rattle off the numbers, this time shaking like a wet dog in the middle of winter.
"Yeah, I keep getting the same thing."
"What?" My heart beats so loud Tiana and Lathe can probably hear it downstairs. "What is it?"
Dayton turns around, his expression pinched. "Your number's fake."
My mouth drops open. "What do you mean?"
"It belongs to a Mildred Crawford who died about fifteen years ago. Pretty sure you're not her."
"I… I… Are you sure?"
Dayton nods. "I checked three times. Same result."
"How can this be?"
"Any chance you memorized the wrong number?"
"I don't know. I've never had a problem."
"Because it's a real number."
I turn to Rogan. "What does this mean?"
"No idea."
Dayton extends his hand. "Let me see your driver's license."
"Okay." I dig my wallet out of my purse and hand him my identification card.
He types a mile-a-minute again, and I lean against Rogan. A minute later, Dayton turns back to us. The Mitchells live at this address, but I hate to say it, there's no Kenna Mitchell. Either you're lying to me or y
our adoption was illegal and your parents have been lying to you."
I stare at him, unable to find my voice. Not only am I adopted, but it's a black market adoption?
Dayton closes the browser. "It's a good thing you didn't go to the courthouse with this." He tosses me my useless ID. "You'd be charged with identity theft."
I crumple against Rogan. He tightens his hold around me. "How can she find out who her parents are? Hell, who she really is?"
Dayton frowns. "That goes beyond what I can do. I doubt even Benny can help you. This might take a PI."
I pull away from Rogan and jump to my feet. "You're saying there's nothing I can do? Nothing?"
"You can hire a private investigator. But without some kind of actual information, I can't figure this out. This royally sucks."
"What about my fingerprints? My DNA? Aren't there tests to find that out? Something I can order online?"
"Those are pretty new. If your parents have been dead for more than, what, a few years, they're probably not in the system."
"And if they're not, none of their relatives are, either. They were the only ones. My dad is the nearest relative." I freeze. If my dad lied about the adoption, he probably lied about my parents. He probably isn't even a relative. I turn to Rogan. "What if my parents are alive?"
"They could be."
"Why would they give me away on the black market?" My knees go weak.
Rogan jumps up and puts his arm around me. "One thing at a time." He turns to Dayton. "Where should we start?"
"I don't know anything about this type of stuff. I just know how to hack into secure sites."
"You don't know anyone?"
"Well, I could ask around. Someone might know something."
I pull on my hair. "I can't believe I've been using fake information all this time. What if I'd gotten caught? I can't believe my dad would do that to me. That's low, even for Merle."
"He might not know." Dayton turns back to his computer and types again.
"Oh, I'm sure he did. He likes keeping things from me. The bigger, the better, apparently."
Rogan rubs my shoulders again. "Want to head back home? This is a lot to take in."
Dayton glances back. "I just sent a message to Benny. He's probably partying, then he'll be hungover all morning. Maybe he'll get back to me in a couple days or something."
"Thanks for checking."
"Yeah. Good luck." He throws me a sympathetic glance.
I'm going to need a whole lot more than luck to untangle this web of lies.
Rogan
Whatcha doin'?" Sutton plops on the couch next to me.
"Careful." I glare at her and run my hand over Kenna's hair. She doesn't even flinch as she sleeps with her head resting in my lap.
"You should be nice to me. I came up with a great story for Mom last night."
"I told you, you didn't have to. I'm an adult."
"Living under her roof."
"What's the story?"
"That you guys were abducted by clowns." She waggles her brows and giggles.
"Sutton." My tone is more annoyed than I meant. I'm exhausted from getting no sleep. Kenna and I talked on the couch for hours before she finally fell asleep. My mind has been racing ever since.
My sister sticks her tongue out at me.
"Are you ever going to grow up?"
"Not when it comes to you. I'll still make faces at you when I'm ninety."
"I don't doubt that."
"Okay, fine. I just told her you were out with the band. That's what she figured, anyway." She snatches the remote from my hand and changes the channel.
"Hey, I was watching that."
"A Bachelorette rerun?"
"What? No. I was watching a documentary."
"You?" Sutton snorts. "It was definitely the Bachelorette. Spoiler alert—she picked the mountain man."
"I wasn't watching that." Maybe I dozed off and didn't realize it. "It really was a documentary on forged paperwork."
"Boring." She laughs at a commercial.
I close my eyes but unfortunately don't fall asleep. I'm trying to figure out a way to get answers for Kenna. The one solution I keep coming back to is introducing her dad to my fist, but I know no good will come of that. I'll probably just end up arrested for assault, and I don't want anything getting in the way of Flaming Combustion's upcoming contract. With Frost Amberley working for us, it won't be long.
Then it hits me.
We can find Kenna's adoptive mom. She fled, but as long as her identity isn't fake, it should be easy enough. Maybe even as simple as an online search. Kenna or I could send her a message on whatever social network she's on, or maybe even email.
We might even be able to see her today!
That is, if she's willing to see Kenna. Maybe I should approach her first. Just in case she flat out refuses. That would be one more hit for Kenna, who has already been through more than enough.
I reach for my phone, trying not to move or wake her. It's just far enough that I can touch it with my fingertips. I reach and strain until I finally twist it at just the right angle that it's in my grasp. And Kenna's still asleep.
At first I just stare at the screen, not sure where to start. Probably because I'm so tired.
"You okay?" Sutton arches a brow.
I shake my head. "Just tired."
"You look horrible. Why not go to bed? I'm sure Kenna will understand."
"No. I need answers."
"About what?"
"Like I said, not my place."
My sister makes a face at me. "You know, you spend so much time with her that I don't get the time to ask her anything personal. That takes rapport, and I don't have that."
"Are you kidding?" I slide my finger around the screen until I get to the web browser. "She really likes you, and you've given her clothes and purses and stuff. You've shown you care."
"Ugh, boys." Sutton rolls her eyes. "That doesn't mean she's going to spill her guts to me. We need to spend time together. Build a friendship."
Her voice grates on my last nerve. Probably because she's right about how tired I am. "Okay. Well if that's the case, I'll just go to bed. When she wakes, you work your girly magic and become best friends."
"You're hopeless, you know that?"
"So are you." I slide my hands underneath Kenna's head and back and somehow manage to get off the couch without waking her.
Yawning, I head upstairs as I search for Mitchells in the area. There are more than I thought. At this rate, I'll probably have to include Kenna in the search no matter how much I want to spare her feelings. She's the only one who can recognize Caroline.
I crawl into bed and continue my search until my eyes won't stay open.
Kenna
The crowd cheers even louder than before. Everyone on and off the stage is jumping around, smiling and giving each other high-fives. I'm frozen in place, wide-eyed. My heart thumps in my chest.
The lights dim, but not so much that we can't see. They just aren't super-major bright. I rub my eyes, trying to get them to adjust.
After they do, I pull on my necklace and twist the little heart-shaped charm. It has some colorful rocks that I've always loved.
One of the men behind the cameras heads my way. His grin is bigger than all the others.
I burst into a run and throw my arms around his legs.
He pulls me up into his arms and spins me in a circle. "You did fantastic, honey!"
"It was funner than I thought, Daddy." I bury my face into his neck. His whiskers tickle my cheek, but I don't care.
He squeezes me tighter. "I think they're going to bring you back for another episode, baby. It'll depend on ratings, of course, but the live audience loved you! Maybe you'll become a regular guest."
"Really? Yay! I can't wait!" I tighten my grip around his neck, and he loosens my arms a little. I breathe in the smell of his aftershave. One of my favorite scents ever.
Daddy talks more about the show and the possi
bilities of me being on more episodes. It all mostly goes over my head. I'm just excited he's happy, really.
Some lady with a nasally voice comes over and talks with him. I squirm, not wanting to listen to her.
Daddy sets me on the ground and lowers himself to my level. "Go find Mommy, okay?"
I nod and stare into his loving eyes. The right eye is green and the left one is blue. Daddy says that makes him magical.
He gives me a kiss, and points offstage where I know Mommy is. Then he winks, hiding his blue eye, and returns to the lady with the voice I don't like.
Everything around me gets blurry.
I sit up, gasping for air. I'm in Rogan's living room. A loud show is playing and Sutton is a couple cushions over, laughing.
She turns to me. "You're finally awake. What time did you and Rogan get home?"
"I don't know." I lie back down and think back to the memory, trying to remember any additional details.
Was it just a dream, or was that man with two different colored eyes really my dad?
Did I actually remember my birth parents? Even though I was only three when they died?
If so, had I actually been on a TV episode? That should be easy enough to prove. If I could figure out what show—none of the people looked familiar, nor did the set.
My heart sinks and shatters into a million pieces. What if my dream wasn't a memory at all? It might be nothing more than a recurring dream.
Maybe I just want to believe I'm destined for more than my life as I've always known it, so my mind came up with an elaborate dream to take me away somewhere magical. Someplace where people adore me. A television set makes sense—who doesn't want fame?
"Everything okay?" Sutton's voice breaks through my thoughts.
I groan. Hopefully, she'll think I'm falling back to sleep.
"What's the matter?"
I remain perfectly still.
"Kenna, what's wrong?"
She's not going to give up. I sit up and rub my eyes. "I had an upsetting dream."
"Oh, I hate that. I'm always getting attacked by zombies. My parents wouldn't let me watch scary stuff when I was a kid, but I found ways. Now I still have bad dreams."
"I wish it was like that for me."
Sutton scoots closer. "What do you mean?"
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