Page 110 of Stella
I open my phone, go to the photos and click on the album I made. It’s an old newspaper article I found on microfiche about a new motorcycle club when I searched my mom’s name.
“Who is that?”
“Look closer,” I say. “Though he looks different now, this was almost thirty years ago, and he’d only just started the NOLA Rebels MC.”
Willow squints. “Is that Cash Hudson?”
“With my mom, yeah.” I swallow hard. In the photo, he has his arm around her, and they’re smiling. “I didn’t know what to think, because judging by the photo, it was around the time I could’ve been conceived. Then I found out my mom had dated Cash, and left him for his brother, Razor, sometime later.”
Willow’s mouth gapes. “Cash could be your dad?”
I tip my head back, trying to pray for some kind of fucking salvation, but nothing is coming to me. “Today I got a DNA test result on my desk. At first I thought it was some kind of joke, but when I checked with the lab; the only record of someone requesting this DNA test was me,” I laugh without humor. “I think I’d remember something that crucial. After you went out to the lot, I dropped back to the lab to run the tests for myself to see if someone was fucking with me…”
She waits, her face a mask of shock, her mouth open. “And? Did they get back to you?”
I nod. “Later this afternoon, Jenna called me to tell me the results.”
“Oh, shit.”
I take my phone back out of her hand. “The tests confirmed I’m Cash Hudson’s son.”
Her eyes widen. “No fucking way?”
“Yep.”
“Holy crap,” she breathes. “After all this time?”
“I don’t even know what to make of it, or how this could fucking happen. I always knew I hated that club for a reason, and now I know why. That asshole piece of shit left my mom pregnant with his kid and did nothing to help her.” I shake my head. “All this time I’ve been trying to justify that maybe I had it wrong about him, about the Rebels, that maybe I’ve misjudged him as a person, but it turns out my instincts were correct.”
“Holy shit. What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know. I’m still coming to terms with it,” I say. “But whoever is playing this game also knows, and that’s bad fucking news for both of us.”
“What about your mom? If you don’t mind me asking, how did she die?”
I swallow hard. “They said it was a drug overdose.”
“And you don’t believe that?”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
My phone beeps, and I see the missed call.
“I can’t say I blame you, but maybe we should check your mom’s files, too.”
“I did, years ago. I saw the autopsy report.”
“But if she’s associated with Razor and Cash, then whoever is sending you this WikiLeaks shit knows all of it. Maybe her filesare gone too, if we can find out who deleted them, that may make more sense. I know a guy.”
I give her a look. “Don’t tell me it’s someone associated with the Rebels, please.”
“He’s not a Rebel.”
I lower my voice. “You’re talking about hacking into classified information,” I say. “Something that could bury both of us.”
“My guy is really good, and you want to know where those files went, or who may be behind this, don’t you?”
I run a hand over my face. She knows the answer to that. “I want to fucking know what any of this has to do with photos of Cash and his family, of me, and what kind of plot twist is there that I’m just not getting?” I pull my phone out, ready to listen to Stella’s message that chimed earlier. “I get we’re related, but why this vendetta?”
