Page 145 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

“You mix up yourbs andds the most,” he says. “My grandson does the same. And, young lady, you are willing to testify to the authenticity of these?”

I nod. “Yes, of course I am. They were given to me as a gift. You can see the dates they were written on each of them. It spans years of us knowing each other, as early as nineteen seventy-four.”

The judge sits back in his chair and sighs. “We will have to verify the handwriting first . . .”

Key’s lawyer stands up and pulls another few papers from his binder. “Actually, I can provide that now. Here is a copy of the contract that Mr. Prentiss signed with Megaloud Records, as well as other official documentation. These are from just a few years ago, all of which have been witnessed. As you can tell, the handwriting is identical, as well as the common spelling errors.”

The judge considers them, his brow relaxing as he takes it all in. Then he pulls out another file of paperwork where there are several bundled papers stuck together with a paperclip. “Mr. Samuels, you entered these documents into evidence to prove that you were involved in the writing process; however what Mr. Prentiss and Miss Connors have just brought forward contradicts the timeline in which these songs were written. What do you have to say about that?”

Logan’s face is as red as a brick wall. “They—they’ve obviously manufactured those documents to disprove mine!”

“Or”—Key addresses Logan directly—“you could tell everyone how you wrote down the songs I dictated to you under the pretense that you were helping me overcome my ‘challenges,’” he says, his fingers making quotation marks. “That I might need them someday. Only to claim you were a cowriter when you were nothing but a scribe.”

“You son of a bitch!” Logan says standing up, spit flying from his mouth. “Those songs are mine!”

“No. Youwishthey were yours and you stooped lower than the lowest sub-species of human being in order to pretend they were,” Key says, standing up to face him across the table. “But it ends here. I just wish I had the courage to stop you eight years ago. Face it, you are a mediocre guitarist who saw an opportunity to make money and ran with it thinking because of my disability I’d never have the courage to write down the songs. But you were wrong. My only regret is that Joel isn’t here to finish you off this time around.”

“Counsel, please control your clients,” the judge says over the noise. Logan’s nostrils are flaring with every breath like a raging bull as he’s wrestled back to his seat. “Very well,” he continues, “if Miss Connors is willing to provide a written declaration to the documents’ authenticity, then I’d say this matter is closed.”

“Closed?” Logan shrieks.

“These documents are clearly written by Mr. Prentiss. With Miss Connors stating they were given to her as a gift prior to you ever having met each other. So yes, I would say they have effectively proven no wrongdoing in this case.”

“But—! But . . .” Logan splutters.

“Very well,” the judge says. “This matter is settled. May I suggest bringing a claim against Mr. Samuels for defamation. He said himself that your songs have been taken off of the radio—I’m assuming due to the false allegations made.”

“You can’t do that!” Logan yells.

“Something to think about,” the judge says, a subtle smirk pulling at his lips.

Logan’s hands are fists, and he begins to shake in his seat. Meanwhile the judge hands the lawyer my statement explaining the letters, and the room is silent as I sign them. With a short nod, he takes them and heads through the tall oak doors.

After he’s gone, there’s a moment where I worry Logan might actually try to hurt one of us. He’s convulsing with fury, and after the tense seconds that follow, he abruptly stands from his chair and bursts through the doors into the lobby.

Key squeezes my hand, and I turn to see him give me a gentle smile. “You did amazing,” he says.

“No, you did. It’s over.”

“Congratulations,” Key’s lawyer says, stretching out his hand to both of us and shaking it. “Miss Connors, you really saved the day with those songs. Thank you.”

I smile. “I’m glad they could help after all these years.”

“I think celebrations are in order,” he says, then pushes out the door.

I turn and wrap my arms around Key for the tightest hug I can manage. “You must feel so relieved.”

He lifts my hand and kisses the backs of my fingers. “In a lot of ways. What do you say we meet up with everyone for a drink?”

“I really think we should get back to the hospital. Joel will?—”

He squeezes my hand. “Joel will be fine for two more hours. Besides, I want to properly introduce you to our friends.”

“I’ve already met them all at the hospital?”

“That was at the hospital and all we ever spoke about was Joel and how he was doing. I want everyone to get to knowyou.”

My stomach jolts. “What if they don’t like me?”

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