Page 97 of Shark Bait

“A couple hundred thousand!” my aunt says.

“Exactly,” I say. “Not a deadbeat just a…dead man.”

Shark’s eyebrows shoot up as silence blankets the table. He compresses his lips as if holding back a smile, then crosses himself. “May he rest in peace.”

We all cross ourselves. “May he rest in peace.”

“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” my dad says, “you didn’t tell us he’d passed away.”

“I only heard last week. It made me sad to talk about it.”

My mom gets up to hug me. “Aw, honey, I’m so sorry.”

It’s official. I am the worst person at this table right now. Also, I’m befriending my brothers’ girlfriend. I want to be friends with a girl who, after hearing a man left me with a baby, wanted to help me instead of feel sorry for me. The woman suggested I sell his ring.

“Will you be staying with us tonight?” I ask her.

Denver pinches my thigh.

Ouch! I stomp on his toe.

“I’m not sure yet,” she says. I forgot her name. That’s what I get for not listening when Denver introduced her.

“We don’t have a spare room, but I could put the baby with me,” I propose.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” she says. “Thank you. I’m serious about the ring too. If you need cash…”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m looking for work.” I’m not. Not yet, anyway.

“What kind of work are you looking for?” she asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

I wish I’d sat next to her. “Not at all. And I’m not sure yet. Something remote so I can stay with Mira a little longer.”

“Denver.” Dad’s voice booms across the table. “Switch seats with your sister so she can talk without straining over the table and hurting her neck.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” I look pointedly at Denver, who mumbles something under his breath but gets up so I can sit next to his girlfriend. She’s wearing a white sweater over dark blue jeans and natural light-brown leather boots. With straight black hair pulled up in a high ponytail, stunningly large dark eyes, and glossy, blemish-free skin, she looks like a doll. She smells like cherry blossoms. Fresh and friendly. I can see why neither of my brothers could resist.

“I’m really enjoying myself as a stay-at-home mom right now,” I say. “My baby is only a few months old.”

“Oh, I see. That’s nice.”

“What’s nicer are her songs,” Denver says.

“You’re a songwriter?” Her eyes light up. “Sorry again. That sounds like I’m surprised. I’m not since the music gene seems to run in the family.”

I shake my head because I don’t want to talk about writing songs.

“That’s Troy,” Levi says, emphasizing my name.

The moment it hits her that Troy from their bestselling worldwide-phenomenon song is me, she fists her hands as if that will contain her. “I thought the song was about his ex or a high school sweetheart.”

“You misunderstand,” Denver corrects her rather forcefully. “My sister wrote the song. I just changed the name in the song along with two other words.”

“Wow, that’s… I thought the band wrote all their music. That’s what you said in the interviews, Denver.”

My brother sighs. “I said that because my sister is part of the band. Aren’t you, Troy?”

“You know I can’t make music anymore.”

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