Page 92 of Out of the Blue

Not as satisfying as banging on a door, but it’ll have to do.

Mamá’s discombobulated voice answers. “Who is it?”

I bury all the choices I could say. This conversation is long overdue and must be done face to face. “Cordelia.”

“Oh. What do you want? I’m not giving you any money—the rent’s your responsibility now.”

“I don’t need any money. I want to talk to you.” I pat myself on the back for the restraint I’ve shown.

An overburdened sigh comes over the intercom. “I’ll be down shortly.”

Because you don’t want me to see the full lap of luxury you’ve scored.Bitch.

When she exits the building, wearing all new clothes and large hoop earrings, I contain my derision. With difficulty. I’m not here to comment on her “improved” circumstances.

“What’s so important you had to bother me in the middle of the night?”

It’s only nine, and she’s dressed like she’s ready to go out. Ignoring her stupid remark, I fish into my purse. Pulling out the two photos of Papá and me, I hold them up. “Recognize these?”

Her eyes go wide. “Where did you find these?”

“Doesn’t matter. Whatdoesmatter is that they exist. Why did you hide them from me?”

She looks around her nice new neighborhood, tugs on her earring, then gives me her full, toxic attention. “I didn’t hide them. I threw out every last photo of Andrés. They weren’t important.”

“They are to me.”

She waves her hand. “Why? He’s dead. As in never coming back. Not like my Sebastián, who’s rich and takes care of me.”

Not like I ever want to hear about her new Sugar Daddy, but this statement exposes her ugly truth. “That’s it, isn’t it? You never wanted to be a mother, but sometimes all your fucking came with consequences, huh? It’s always been aboutyou. What you wanted, what you needed for yourself. You never thought about Juanita or me, besides what we could get for you.”

Her plucked eyebrow raises. “Cordelia. I will not stand here and be spoken to like this. I am your mother. I deserve respect.”

I tuck my precious photos back into my purse. “I beg to differ with you,Mamá.” I place extra emphasis on the undeserved title. “Respect is earned, and you never earned mine. I can’t speak for my sister, but after I tell her what went down here, I’m sure she’ll agree. The days of you running our lives are over. In fact, you’re no longer welcome in my life ever again. I wish it was you and not Papá who is planted six feet under.”

Her hand flies to her chest. “Well, I never!”

“That’s patently false, but it ends here. From this moment on, I don’t have a mother or a father. The days of you interfering with any aspect of my life are over.” Not waiting to see her reaction and ignoring her sputtered criticisms, I spin on my heel and leave the hoity-toity neighborhood, with Mamá in it, in the rearview mirror.

I get my first full night’s sleep in a long while.

The next morning, I call out of work and devote time to researching on the computer. With Papá’s photos and the envelope tucked into my purse, I propel myself forward. Three hours later, I stand in the prison cemetery in front of a tombstone marked 56998. I hold out the envelope and verify his inmate number in the return address.

Yes.

This is my dad.

Chapter 28 - Trent

Breathing hard, I wave once more at the crowd before disappearing backstage. Dwight slaps my back. “You were on fire tonight.”

I drape my arm around his shoulders. “As were you, bro.”

Joey piles on. “That was our best gig ever!”

Maurice holds up his fist, which we all bump.

Once we cross into the green room, Cheri, Denice, and Fee flood over to us. My guys clinch their wives—who each took vacation this week—and plant hot kisses on them. Me? I continue deeper into the room and grab the Bud waiting for me. Twisting off the cap, I down about half of it and let my thumb rest over the opening before my bandmates resurface.

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