Book Read Free

The Sister Code (D.O.R.K Book 2)

Page 12

by Haley Allison


  “Okay…” I tune the radio to a rock station and start humming along to “Again” by Flyleaf.

  “Don’t hold back,” Logan says. I look at him questioningly and he nods to the radio, like, Go for it.

  I smile and let my voice ring out with the song. It’s one of my favorites by a female artist. Logan keeps encouraging me until I’m belting it out, not even caring that we’re getting close to our destination. He turns the volume on the radio down just so he can listen to me. As I sing, my soul catches fire, and I let the music consume me and set me ablaze. My voice rips out of me, filling the small space to capacity and begging for more.

  After the second chorus, I have to stop to direct him in to the restaurant we’re eating at. It’s a little bistro downtown that Dad, Cass, and I discovered back in the summer. It’s not extremely popular, but there are usually indie musicians performing in front of it that are surprisingly good. We enjoy discovering new talent. Dad and Cass usually offer some word of advice or encouragement and some money before going on our way.

  Logan pulls into a parking garage behind the others and waits until we’re parked to let out a long breath he was holding in. “Man, driving in this city is a lot different from New York.”

  “I noticed traffic was different over there,” I say.

  Logan turns to me and snags my attention before we join the others. “Hey, thanks for singing for me. That was awesome.”

  The sheepish yet delighted smile on his face warms me from the inside out. I feel a blush creep up my neck. I’m not used to people gushing over me in person like this, and it feels good, but it also makes me really embarrassed for some reason.

  “Thanks, Logan. Let’s go join them before someone gets suspicious.” I wink and turn around to exit the vehicle before he can reply.

  We join the others and walk down the street a short distance toward the bistro. On the way, we pass a young Asian guy setting up a guitar and amp. Dad and Cass stop and hold their arms up to keep the rest of us at bay. I groan, irritated at their insistence on hearing every street musician we run into on this route. Some of them are great, but my stomach is starting to rumble so loudly I’m afraid it will upstage the music. I press up on my tiptoes to complain in Dad’s ear, but he brings his index finger to his lips and shushes me. Then he points back to the guy with the guitar, and I follow his finger.

  I squint and notice there’s something different about this guy’s wireless electric guitar.

  One, two, three…

  “Holy shit, guys…” I lean over to Dalton and Logan, and they bend down to listen to me. “His guitar only has four strings.”

  All of us watch in rapt silence as this young, thin guy prepares to play a four-stringed guitar as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He tests the strings he has and tunes them, and I recognize that the two he’s missing are the upper two strings. Before long, he closes his eyes, draws in a deep breath, and starts into the smoothest bluesy bass solo I’ve ever heard.

  Dad and Cass smile and bob their heads, clearly enjoying this deviation from their usual music fare. Blues music has never been my thing, but even I have to admit this is pleasant to listen to. The fact that his original composition is so complex and flawless on a four-stringed guitar is impressive in itself, but when the music spikes to a faster tempo and his fingers begin to fly up and down the neck of his guitar, all of us gasp with excitement. There’s something extraordinary about this guy. We can all feel it. I can see it written all over Dalton and Logan’s hopeful faces. Maybe today won’t be such a loss after all.

  Maybe the audition we really needed to hear wasn’t at the studio.

  We approach the bass player and greet him with obnoxious clapping and whooping when he plays his last troubled note. His dark eyes grow wide with recognition at the sight of Dad and Cass. I notice him pull back a couple of steps in alarm.

  “Sorry for the ambush,” Dad says to the talented stranger. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

  “I’m self-taught.” He draws himself up straight and looks us right in the eyes. I can tell by the way his Adam’s apple pulls up and down that he’s still nervous, but he’s hiding it well.

  “That was very impressive,” Cass compliments him.

  “Thanks.” His reply is purposely short. He forces a tight-lipped smile.

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Max. Max Li.”

  “Can I ask why you’re playing a guitar with only four strings?” Dalton asks.

  Max’s dark eyebrow twitches slightly. His expression deadens and his voice flattens. “Oh, you know, I just prefer it this way.” He thumps his palm on the body and another string pops free and nearly whips him in the face. “Dammit…” Max continues to curse under his breath as he attempts to re-attach the string to no avail. It’s broken just like the others obviously were.

  “Max, would you consider comin’ to dinner with us at that bistro just down the street?” Dad nods in the direction of the restaurant.

  Max drops the guitar in shock. Thankfully it was strapped around his shoulder or he’d likely be out three strings and a neck. “Uh…sure. Yeah.”

  Max hesitantly packs up his equipment and lets the guys help him carry it down the street to the old-style bistro. Once inside, he awkwardly joins us at a table and sits silent and wide-eyed as the rest of us order. Dad and Cass have to wheedle him into ordering something, and even then he requests only a cup of tea. After our drinks are brought to the table, Dad and Cass start questioning him about his life.

  “I just graduated from Geller High last year. My parents run a Chinese restaurant down on Weston Boulevard,” Max informs us. “It’s not doing too well. My music is what’s keeping us alive right now.”

  “So you make enough to support a family?” Dad asks.

  “Not enough,” Max admits. “We barely have enough to live from week to week.” He hangs his head with downcast eyes, clearly humiliated at having to admit this to my family. I almost feel bad about this interrogation. Maybe it would make him feel better to know what we’re thinking of.

  “These guys and I—” I gesture between myself, Logan, and Dalton. “—are trying to start a band. We only need one more person, and that’s a bass player. Have you ever considered playing in a rock band?”

  Max’s mouth falls open. “Wha…me? Yeah, sure, but I never thought I’d get the chance.”

  Dalton leans forward with his arms crossed on the table in front of him. “You have just the talent we’re looking for. We’re hoping to make it big.”

  “They have us backin’ them up,” Dad adds. “Would you consider auditionin’ for us down at our rehearsal studio sometime?”

  Max draws back in his seat, looking almost horrified in his mind-blown state. “Wha—you…you really want me?”

  “We’d like to hear you with the band first, of course,” Cass reminds him.

  “Uh…yeah, sure. When?”

  We decide to meet up with him tomorrow afternoon. As specifics are discussed, tenuous excitement builds inside of me. Could this be it? Is this our final step? I guess we won’t know until tomorrow.

  Chapter 19

  September 20, 2015

  A Day That Will Go Down In Music History

  Our band is officially formed. We have a lead singer, lead guitar, bassist, and drummer. Max Li just joined our band, and after the mini celebration we had tonight back at the bistro again, I’ve got a really good feeling about our little ragtag group. We’re kind of an odd combination of musicians, but I think we come together to make the perfect blend. I’m so ready to start writing music with these guys and get closer and closer to our collective dream.

  Max did amazingly well in our group audition. I think he almost cried when we placed a brand new six-stringed bass guitar in his hands. He seemed like he had a little trouble getting used to it at first, but eventually he picked it up. It was like watching a fourth puzzle piece slide right into place. Look out, world. Here we come.
r />   After we got home, Logan and I played WoW for a bit, but we quickly got interrupted by his bitchy girlfriend Claire. She was moaning in a very high, squeaky, nasally voice about the fact that he was spending time with me instead of her as if I was a threat to her somehow. I don’t know Logan super well yet, but I do know he’s not the type to cheat on his girlfriend. He has never been anything but friendly to me, and he talks about her like she’s some kind of goddess. He obviously worships the ground she walks on. It’s sweet, but somehow I don’t really think it’s deserved. I dunno. It just seems like he could do better.

  Anyway, after that, I thought about asking Gio to play Battlefield with me, but then I heard loud music coming from next door and realized he was having a party again. So nice of him to invite me. I know I’m basically Raven’s slave now, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t sneak over to a party next door. Maybe he’s not aware of that. I should drop some subtle hints on Monday to let him know.

  All in all, it was a pretty good day. Tomorrow’s gonna suck. I have to go over to the dragons’ keep, a.k.a. the Redinger mansion, and pretend to be happy to be there when all I want to do is scream and run to the other end of the country. At least Dad will come along to be my bodyguard. Now I’m really grateful for his insistence on sticking to me like glue. He always comes up with the perfect excuse for us to get home when I give him the signal.

  I’m gonna watch some Netflix and then go to bed. Maybe someday I won’t have to do this by myself. I want a strong pair of arms around me again. I want a goodnight kiss. I want to hear a guy tell me I’m the incarnation of his wildest dreams. Does that make me pathetic?

  I don’t really want to know the answer to that question.

  Ttyl,

  Mads

  ***

  Dad threads his arm around my shoulders as we approach Jess’s monster of a mansion. It looks more like one of the castles we had the pleasure of seeing while taking a tour of the countryside in England, except a more modern, Americanized version of them. There’s no moat around this mansion, but there are gray stone walls, and the towers are strongly reminiscent of the old style. I can almost picture Rapunzel letting down her golden hair from one of the high windows.

  We climb a steep set of stairs to the front double doors and a housekeeper lets us in. She directs us to the back patio where Jess and Raven are waiting for us. We step out of French doors to find a beautiful white-canopied eating area just to the right. A small table is adorned with a crisp white tablecloth and china so rare I could imagine finding it in the queen’s palace.

  Jess smiles, Raven grimaces, and they both stand from the table to greet us.

  “Darling, so happy you could make it.” Jess comes around to meet me and presses a kiss to each of my cheeks.

  “Hi Jess. Raven.” I nod to my twin. She smiles and nods in return.

  Jess gestures to the table and Dad and I take seats next to each other. We’re served a beautiful spread of citrus chicken, kale salad, and seasonal vegetables. It doesn’t surprise me that Jess and Raven have a live-in chef. Raven’s immaculate figure couldn’t survive without it. Jess seems to be losing a lot of weight lately. Every time I see her, the bones in her hands are more prominent. I hope she’s not sick or something.

  “How is school, Madison?” Jess asks after we’re settled into our meal.

  “It’s all right. I’m sure you’ve seen the headlines.”

  A smile livens up her features. “Yes, I certainly did! I want you to know how proud I am. You have a wonderful voice. I’m sure that talent will take you far.”

  I can’t help but feel warmed by her praise. In spite of everything, hearing my mother say she’s proud of me feels a lot better than I expected.

  “Thanks, Jess. I’m glad the incident in London is history. Now it’s time to get our band on its feet.”

  “You’re starting a band?”

  I nod while I chew and swallow a large bite of chicken. “Dalton Jacobs and I are.”

  Her face falls at the mention of Dalton Jacobs. She clears her throat and forces a smile back on.

  “Sounds like fun. I suppose you’ll be very busy with school and starting a band now.”

  “Yeah, I don’t expect to have a whole lot of free time.”

  A look of horror seizes her features. She purses her lips and dabs her mouth with a napkin. Pushing her food away, she stands from the table abruptly. “Excuse me,” she mutters.

  Jess hurries inside the French doors and disappears into the mansion. I glance at Raven with a question in my eyes.

  Raven shrugs. “She’s been dashing up from the table a lot lately. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on.”

  Raven and Dad talk amongst themselves for a while after that while I stay silent, playing with the food on my plate. It’s good, but just being in the Redingers’ lair is unnerving for me. I’m finding it hard to keep up my appetite.

  Jess does not return before we’re done with our meals, so Dad, Raven, and I come back in to the back parlor to wait on her. While they stand in the center of the room and discuss Raven’s exercise habits, I pace the room, studying the artifacts and paintings that line the walls. Jess seems to be a collector of antiques and rare valuable items. A bit of a clutterbug too. There’s a mahogany desk in the corner of the room piled high with documents and magazines. The furniture is an interesting tan and gold mixture. Very plush and inviting. Staring at all this richness, I can hardly believe that in an alternate reality, I would have at least partially grown up in this place. One could easily get spoiled in all this luxury. It’s no wonder Raven’s so entitled and stuck-up.

  Finally, after about fifteen minutes, Jess enters the room looking a little worse for wear. Her hair is mussed and the front of her clothes are wrinkled. I notice the bags under her eyes and concern settles in my stomach. Something’s very wrong. She doesn’t even have to say anything. I can tell this isn’t the vibrant, tenacious Jessica Redinger I’m used to seeing.

  “Everyone sit down, please. I need to have a talk with you, and now is just as good a time as any,” Jess says. Dad and I sit side-by-side on a sofa. Raven and Jess sit opposite each other on antique chairs.

  When Jess twists her hands in her lap, I’m struck again by how skeletal they are. She takes a cloth tissue from her pocket and dabs at her eyes and nose before continuing.

  “By now, you all may have noticed a change in me. I’ve been going to treatments without telling anyone because I didn’t want to make things public, but recent developments have made it necessary for me to at least inform my immediate family.” She clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ear. “A few weeks ago, before we returned to the states, I went to a doctor in London and was diagnosed with brain cancer. I’ve been in chemotherapy for the past couple of weeks, but they’re going to have to perform surgery soon. There’s no guarantee I’m going to survive this cancer even if they do the surgery, but that’s the only way I have any sort of chance.” She raises her head to look at Dad with terrified, burdened eyes. “Michael, I was wondering if you’d mind keeping Raven for a while when I’m in surgery and for a few days as I’m recovering.”

  Dad’s eyes fly wide open with horror. After a long moment of silence, he clears his throat and nods.

  “Of course, Jessica. Anything you need. I am truly sorry about your bad news.”

  I glance at Raven. Her eyes are filled with tears and are threatening to spill over.

  “You have cancer and you didn’t even tell me?” she rasps.

  The air in the room grows thick with tension. Jess moves to kneel in front of Raven and caresses her cheek. “Darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to worry you until I knew all the details of my treatment.”

  Raven jerks away from Jess’s touch. “That’s why you’ve been running away from the table? That’s why you’re losing weight? You’re in chemo?”

  Jess nods sadly. “I know, I should have said something. I wish things weren’t this way, but we’re going to have to make t
he most of it—”

  Raven stands, her eyes sparking with anger. “Make the most of it? What good could possibly come of this? And why didn’t you tell your own daughter the moment you knew?”

  Jess stands with effort to face her. “Sweetheart, it’s complicated—”

  “You were afraid I’d tell.” Tears streak down Raven’s cheeks. Her lip trembles as she desperately tries to keep her voice under control. “You kept it from me because you thought I’d inform the media. You don’t trust me at all.”

  “What? No, Raven, that’s not it at all—”

  Raven shakes Jess’s hands off her and runs toward the stairway in the entry hall. Dad and I stand dumbstruck, not knowing how to respond when Jess’s tears begin.

  My heart clenched for Raven as soon as I realized Jess didn’t tell her. I can imagine how she must feel. If Dad found out he had cancer and didn’t tell me until several weeks afterwards, I’d be crushed, especially if I thought it was because he was afraid I would tell. I don’t think that’s why Jess did this, though. In a way, I understand. It was her news to deliver and she hated to tell us at all. She probably agonized over how to break the news to Raven.

  As Jess sobs quietly under her hand, I move to embrace her, feeling slightly awkward when she latches onto me and won’t let go. She wets my neck with her tears, clinging to me as if I’m her last hope in the world.

  “I’m sorry, Jess,” I whisper with a break in my voice. I don’t even have the heart to be upset that Raven’s going to be under the same roof with us again in the near future. The humanity of my mother and sister just made itself evident, and now I have a choice. I can go on hating them, or I can be the strong one for my newfound family.

  Chapter 20

  September 20, 2015

  The C-Word

  Cancer. My mother has cancer. I never even thought about someone in my family coming in contact with that dreadful disease. Jess just told us she was diagnosed with brain cancer and she’s currently in treatment. Everything is about to change for Jessica Redinger. I don’t know if or when she plans on going public with this news, but whatever the case, I don’t think we’ll be seeing any more of her past troublemaking self.

 

‹ Prev