“I know. I just...” Jason glanced toward the kitchen where we could hear Mom opening and closing the cupboards. “I can’t help but feel a little cautious after what happened,” he said in a low voice.
“I could meet him in a public place. You could come, too.”
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m your keeper or something,” Jason said. “Because I’m not. Maybe I’ll go with you and then bail after a few minutes, so long as everything seems cool. I can go do my stuff at the office while you’re talking with him and then we can meet up after.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, and started texting hi back, right as my mother walked in with a replenished pitcher of lemonade and plate of cookies.
“Here we are!” she said.
“I don’t think we can eat any more cookies,” I said.
“Not because they aren’t delicious,” Jason said quickly. He reached out and grabbed one. “I can always make room for one more.”
My mother laughed. “Oh, you’re so funny,” she said.
“We’re going to take off pretty soon, Mom,” I said.
“Already? You haven’t been here very long.”
“Someone just got in touch with me about an article they’re writing about Isa. They want me to talk with them.”
“They’re going to interview you for an article? You mean for a newspaper?”
“Um...” I realized I didn’t know what publication Desmond wrote for. “I’m not sure. I’ll find out, though.”
“That does sound important,” Mom said. “But why don’t the two of you plan on coming by for dinner some night? Could we set something like that up?”
“Of course,” Jason said. “That sounds wonderful.”
My mother couldn’t look more thrilled if she tried. She hugged us both before we left, and she almost—almost—stepped out onto the front step to wave goodbye. She stopped at the last second, though, and waved us off from the doorway.
***
Desmond had suggested Superior Coffee, which was a café I’d passed by before but had never been in.
“We come here all the time to get coffee,” Jason said as we stepped inside. His gaze went to the counter, but then he looked away quickly, so fast that it made me think he’d seen something or someone he didn’t want to see. But when I looked over, it was just a short line of customers giving their orders to the barista.
The last text Desmond had sent me had said he was “the ginger with the Steno pad,” followed by a smiley face. I saw a guy sitting at a corner table with short, slightly curly red hair, a reporter’s notebook open in front of him. He was writing something, but then he looked up and saw me. He waved.
“There he is,” I said to Jason, and we made our way over.
“Thanks so much for meeting up with me,” he said. He shook Jason’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too, man. What’s your name?”
“Jason. I’m not going to be staying long, though—just wanted to make sure Emmy got to where she needed to be.”
“Jason actually works not too far from here,” I said. “He’s got to head over to his office for a little bit, but he’ll come back here when he’s done. I don’t know how long this is going to take?”
“Well, I’m not going to try to take up your whole day or anything like that. But I would like to talk with you for a little while.”
I said bye to Jason and then sat down across from Desmond. “So, who are you writing this article for?”
He gave me a wry smile. “Well, I hope this doesn’t disappoint, but I’m no reporter from The Times or The Washington Post or anything. I write for The Beat. Ever heard of it?”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t. I don’t really read that many magazines though.”
“We’ve mostly moved online at this point, but we still put out a print magazine quarterly. I don’t know if this article is going to be used in the print version or just online, but I was hoping that I could talk with you about your sister.”
“About Isa?”
“That’s your sister, right? I mean, you guys are the spitting image of each other.”
“You knew Isa?”
“I’ve followed her career for a while now. That’s usually what I write about, but this whole situation has kind of changed things. I’ve turned into an investigative reporter—and I gotta admit, I really dig it. The articles I was writing before were fun to work on, but there wasn’t a whole lot of substance to them, if you know what I mean. It was mostly reviewing clubs and new mixes and stuff like that.”
“So what is this article about that you’re working on?”
“I’m still in the preliminary stages at this point—talking with people, doing interviews, conducting research. I was wondering if your parents might be willing to talk with me.”
“Maybe,” I said, though I wasn’t sure how kindly my mother would take to having some stranger in her house asking her questions, and my father was probably way too busy out with his blond girlfriend. Yet I could tell Desmond was a good guy, and that he really was interested in writing the best article he could and maybe trying to find some answers. “If you want to know the truth, my mother doesn’t leave the house.”
“Like, ever?”
“Like ever. I can’t remember the last time she went out. She’s battled with a number of different mental health issues my whole life. Isa and I never really talked about it much growing up, but it was always this little bit of knowledge we had between us, that our mother wasn’t quite like the rest of the mothers. And that’s just become more and more apparent the older we’ve gotten.”
Desmond was nodding. “Mind if I record this?” he asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to take notes, too, but I like to have it recorded when possible.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Go right ahead.”
He started by asking me some preliminary questions, stuff I had a feeling that he already knew the answer to but wanted to get my take on it: Had Isa always loved music? Had our parents been supportive of her choices?
“How would you say her success affected your family?”
I paused. That was actually something I’d never really given much thought to, because it hadn’t really affected our family. Or had it?
“I’m not sure,” I finally said, once several seconds of silence had passed. I suddenly felt like I’d been put on the spot, like I was back in high school and caught daydreaming again, expected to have the correct answer for a question that I hadn’t even heard.
Desmond smiled. “No pressure,” he said. “If there’s anything I ask that seems too personal or just isn’t something you want to answer, you can skip it.”
“It’s not that it’s too personal,” I said. “I’m just realizing that I’ve never really thought about it like that before—like how her success has affected us. My initial reaction is to say that it hasn’t, but maybe it has.” Would things be different if Isa had just gone to college and gotten a regular job? Something that she was good at, that made her decent money? “See, the thing is, Isa and I weren’t very close these past years.”
“But you were when you were younger? I have to admit, it kind of threw me for a loop to find out that Isa has a twin sister.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ve come to realize after talking with all these people that she never really mentioned me.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It wasn’t like I made a point to bring her up in every conversation I had, but the people in my life knew who Isa was, what she did. Was she embarrassed by me? By the fact that I didn’t go out much and wasn’t outgoing and didn’t have a jam-packed social calendar?
The look on Desmond’s face softened a little. “I wasn’t trying to imply that she never talked about just you,” he said. “She didn’t talk about her personal life much with others, at least not in the media. Which I actually think is totally respectable and understandable. But that’s in large part why I got in touch with you—I wanted to try to get a better picture of Isa as a who
le person, not just the DJ that everyone knows. She was mainly focused on her music.”
“Really?” I said. “Because other people I’ve talked to have made it sound like she was also focused on having a good time. My sister kind of sounds like a hedonist.”
Desmond smiled. “Oh, she was. That was well known about her. But that was why she was so much fun to be around; that’s why people really enjoyed getting to see her play. She just had this way with the crowd, she could really read an audience, knew just what to play at just the right moment. Very intuitive. She really was incredible.” He shook his head. “Is. I shouldn’t be using the past tense.”
I wondered, as I sat there, what it would be like to be Isa, to have this many people fawning over me, wanting to hang out with me, thinking that I was some sort of genius or something. I’d gotten compliments on my drawings before, but that was mostly in high school; no one I knew now read the Sushi and Sake series, and I doubted if anyone outside of the people I told knew that I also did greeting cards. No one out there was referring to me as “so much fun to be around,” “very intuitive,” “incredible.”
“Do you know Laurel and Flax?” I asked.
Desmond nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be talking with them about this story at some point, too. They were tight with Isa. They’d play out a lot. You ever see any of the flyers? Laurel’s a graphic designer. The flyers she puts together are dope.”
“I haven’t seen any of those. But I was hoping to talk with them, maybe. Scout told us about them.
“Well, yeah, I would definitely get in touch with them if I were you. They’re very friendly people, and I know they were close with Isa, so I’m sure they’d love to talk with you.”
Desmond and I talked for a while longer, though I was beginning to doubt that I was really giving him anything that would be helpful for his article. He seemed pleased, though, and he shook my hand before he left, telling me he’d text if he had any other questions.
After he left, I decided I would get in touch with Laurel and Flax. Scout had given me only one number, so I wasn’t sure whose number it was, but I sent a quick message, introducing myself and asking if it would be possible to meet up. Less than thirty seconds later, my phone started to ring.
I hesitated but then picked it up. “Hello?”
“Is this Emmy?” The woman’s voice was low and a little scratchy sounding.
“It is,” I said.
“Darling, we would love to talk with you! Thank you so much for reaching out to us. It really was meant to be, I think—did Desmond tell you what we’re up to this weekend?”
“No, he didn’t mention anything. What is it you’re up to this weekend?”
“Something that we surely hope you’ll partake in. But we’d rather discuss it in person. Today, unfortunately, is not good for us.”
“How about tomorrow?”
“That sounds perfect,” she said. “We’d love to host you at our place. Let me give you the address. We’re not in the city right now—is that okay?”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t live in the city, either.”
“Oh, well, we have a place in the city, but we also have a place out in the country, too. Being in the natural world really rejuvenates our spirits, which is especially important since Isa’s been missing. It’s just so horrible, and I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you, her own flesh and blood. How have you been holding up?” Her voice was so full of concern it made me feel as if she were someone that I’d known a while, like she was some longtime, dear friend of mine, not someone I’d only been talking to for a minute.
“I’m doing okay. I just really want to find my sister. I’m trying to talk to whoever I can who might be able to help me with that.”
“Darling, if there’s anything we can do on that front, Flax and I absolutely will. Is this your cell phone you’re calling me on?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll text you our address once we get off the phone, and you can come by anytime tomorrow. Well, maybe not first thing in the morning, but we don’t have any plans to leave the property for the whole day.”
“That would be great,” I said. “And would it be okay if my boyfriend came along? He’s been helping me out with this whole thing.”
“Absolutely. The more the merrier.”
I couldn’t help but feel encouraged after I got off the phone with Laurel, like I was perhaps on the verge of finding something out that might really change things.
I called Jason. “Hey,” I said. “How’s it going at the office?”
“Doing all right. Almost done here, so good timing. You still across the way?”
“Yeah. Desmond left a little while ago; I think we had a decent talk. I’m definitely curious to see how the article turns out. I actually just got off the phone with Laurel and Flax, those two DJs Scout had told us about. The ones that played with Isa sometimes?”
“Oh, yeah? They have anything good to share?”
“Well, they invited me to their place tomorrow. I’m going to go. Would you like to go with me? It’s in Fairfax. A geodesic dome, apparently. She sounded really nice. I didn’t talk to Flax, but he sounds like he’s pretty cool.”
“What time tomorrow?”
“We left it kind of open-ended. Probably afternoon. They said they had something they wanted to talk to me about, something that was going on this weekend?”
“Hmm,” was all Jason said.
“Do you want to go with me tomorrow? If you have to work or something, I understand. I just thought—”
“No, I think I can go. For sure. I should probably stay here a little longer, though, try to get a few more things taken care of. That okay?”
“Of course it is. Why don’t I just drive down to your place tomorrow morning? I’ll text you before I leave.”
“Actually—meet me out on the corner in two minutes.”
“The corner?”
“Yeah. It’ll be quick, I promise. But give me two minutes.”
“Okay,” I said, laughing. “I can do that.”
He hung up and I grabbed my purse off the back of the chair. I was about to leave when one of the baristas made her way over to me. She stood there for a moment, not saying anything, two crimson splotches starting to form on her cheeks. Was she waiting for me to say something? Was I supposed to know who she was?
“Hey,” she finally said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry if this is going to sound totally weird, but... are you with that guy?”
“Desmond?” I said. “The guy I was sitting with?”
“No, the guy you came in here with.” She paused. “Jason.”
She used her index finger to push her glasses up again, even though they hadn’t really moved since she last adjusted them a few seconds ago.
“Oh,” I said. “Um, yeah, we’re together. Are you a friend of his?” The words were out of my mouth before I really had a chance to think about them; they probably weren’t friends—surely Jason would’ve gone over and said hi and introduced me if they were. He’d mentioned that they came here for coffee a lot, and she probably had a crush on him.
“Not really,” she said. “But he’s a good guy. He deserves to be with someone who will treat him well. I guess he was ready for it after all.” This last part she added more as an afterthought, more as something she wasn’t planning on anyone else hearing. “Anyway,” she said, “sorry to have bothered you.”
She turned and walked off before I could say anything, though I wasn’t really sure what there was to say. So I left, and right when I stepped out, I saw Jason walking toward me, a smile on his face.
“Do you—” I wasn’t able to finish my sentence because he scooped me up and planted a huge kiss on me, a true Hollywood kiss if there ever was one.
“Okay,” he said when we finally pulled apart. “I didn’t want you to leave without a proper goodbye.”
“You’re sweet.” I touched the side of his face, but as I
did so, I realized we were basically in full view of the coffee shop, with its big plate-glass windows that looked out onto the street. “Hey,” I said. “Do you know one of the girls who works in there?”
“Sure,” he said. “I pretty much know everyone who works in there—we go there every day. We’re probably their best customers.”
“’Cause right before I came out here, one of the girls came over and asked me if you and I were together.”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s Julia.”
“A friend?”
“Not really. Don’t get me wrong; she seems like a really nice person, but... it’s kind of like that guy at the café we went to up near your place. The guy who likes you?”
“So you claim, but I don’t think so.”
“He does. And it’s the same sort of scenario with Julia. Except...” He paused, then winced slightly. “Well, she had actually asked me to hang out a little while ago. I declined and told her I wasn’t really ready to be dating anyone, which I know is not entirely the truth. But sometimes you have to bend the truth a little, if you don’t want to hurt someone’s feelings. Which I don’t, because, as I said, Julia’s really nice. Just not someone that I’d date.”
“But now she knows that you actually are seeing someone. So she ended up getting hurt anyway.”
“I realize that now. Which was totally not my intention, so I guess the truth always is better.” He rubbed his eyes, sighing, and I could tell that he did feel bad about it.
“Hey,” I said, touching his arm. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your office.”
I took his hand as we went, and felt a surge of gratitude for this man—a man, I realized, I most likely would not have met if this hadn’t happened with Isa.
***
Soon I was back at home, by myself. The sun was starting to set, the heat of the day evaporating as darkness settled in. I ate a salad and found myself thinking about Jason, wondering what he was doing, wishing he was there with me.
When I was finished eating, I got my phone and went onto Facebook, then Instagram. I checked out Isa’s feeds—nothing new from her, though certainly plenty from fans, friends, people I didn’t know.
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