Page 107 of Snake

“I know who you are.” My tongue is cleaved to the roof of my mouth. I turn to Vicky, ignoring his hand as I stare at her with wide eyes. “I thought I was meeting my sponsors.”

Vicky blinks, her face crumpling with confusion. “Why, yes, sweetie. You are.” She waves at the man who’s now got a frown on his face. “Nim, these are the Harts. And these—” Vicky gestures toward the couple still seated on the bench, “—are the Furinos.”

Those names clang through my head like church bells.

The Harts and the Furinos.

I’d have called bullshit if I didn’t have that photograph burned into my retina by now. And sure as shit, when I look at the tall guy who’d wanted to shake my hand, and the couple who look like they’re too shocked to stand, I can see the resemblance across decades.They were all there that day, standing with Vicky and my parents while Lorenzo lurked in the background as they had their picture taken.

Well, almost all of them. I look at the lady standing next to Jet Hart. She was on stage with him on Friday night.

Vicky steps forward, waving at the Harts. “This is Jet and his wife, Ophelia.”

It would be just plain rude not to shake their hands, so I do. I turn to the Furinos, grunting when Mrs. Furino envelops me in a fierce hug.

“Not so hard, Dona. You’ll snap the poor thing in half,” Vicky admonishes, but her voice sounds strangely thick.

Dona pushes me away, her eyes moving my face like she’s trying to preserve it for all eternity. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, tears springing into her eyes. “My god, Jet, isn’t she beautiful?”

That’s when things get weird.

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