Page 137 of Songbird: Black Kite
Present
Theguysallstaredat me, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, as I finished the story.
“Embezzlement?” Mick asked in disbelief. “You’re telling me Cornelius Castor has been embezzling from his own damn company all these years? How the hell has he gotten away with that?”
“I don’t know any of the details,” I admitted. “That’s not my thing at all. But what I do know is that the morning after that conversation, I confronted Tori about what she had spilled to me when she was wasted and she had a fuckin’ meltdown. She begged me not to tell her father what I’d learned. Offered me anything I could ask for as long as I didn’t let on that I knew.”
“So you asked for a divorce?”
“Yes and no. I asked for a very public breakdown of our marriage, a way to do it so that everyone would know the fault was hers.” Shaking my head, I added, “She was the one who chose the method.”
“A screaming match at a Grammys after party was an interesting choice,” Gavin said sarcastically.
“Yeah, well, it got the job done. She looked like the bad guy and her father never questioned the divorce when it came at her request.”
I sat back, suddenly exhausted, wanting nothing more than to be sitting under a tree with my girls instead of dealing with all this shit.
What a difference a few days made.
The guys and I were all still lost in our own private thoughts when Harry came in, a tray of goodies in her arms.
“You boys must be famished, what with all this tension radiating around the room.”
“Harry, you beautiful woman. You take such good care of us.”
“Save your flattery for the groupies, Alex. I’m just keeping you fed.” Looking at me, Harry pressed her lips together as she took in my expression. “Anything I can do for you, Hawk?”
“Nah. I’m all good, Harry,” I said, offering her a smile I certainly didn’t feel. “You really are the best.”
She stared, clearly not believing me but content to let it lie as she headed out of the living room and back to her wing.
“So what do we do now?” Alex asked, snagging one of Harry’s homemade Danishes off the platter and eating half in one huge bite. “I mean, if we’re still gonna start our own label, and what you’re saying about the state ofCastor Recordsis true, then ol’ Cornelius isn’t going to likeBlack Kitegoing against him. If his entire company is already a house of cards, us taking any of his business could cause the whole thing to tumble down around him.” He laughed, flaky pastry crumbs blowing out of his mouth and scattering across his t-shirt. “Could turn into an ugly fight.”
“What we need is proof,” Mick said, passing Alex a napkin from the tray, which he took, but didn’t use, likely out of spite. Ignoring Alex’s atrocious table manners, Mick stood and began to pace. “If Castor really has been stealing from his own company, there has to be a paper trail somewhere. You can’t hide something like that forever.”
“Follow the money!” Alex shouted around another mouthful of pastry.
“Yeah, alright. Calm down there, Deep Throat, before you choke,” Gavin muttered, his nose curled in revulsion. He hated anything messy, and life didn’t get any messier than Alex. “Although you’re not wrong, either.” Alex shot him a smug smile and reached for another Danish. “Finding out where the money went and how deep under waterCastor Recordsactually is will be the only true way to finish this once and for all.”
“You think that’s possible? To bring Castor down?” It was something I’d dreamed about for a while, ruining the man who’d exploited me and my boys for so long.
“Not just down,” Mick said, rubbing his hands together. “If we can prove he’s bankrupted his company, we can fucking bury him. He’ll spend the rest of his life in prison.”
“If he doesn’t off himself first,” Alex said, licking the frosting off his fingers.
“Cornelius Castor is too goddamn proud to go out like that,” I insisted. “That would be quitting, and he’d sell his left nut before he’d want to look like a quitter.”
“I’m going to make a few calls,” Mick said, starting to gather his things. He looked energized, like the thought of taking downthemanwas riling him up. “See if I can find a way to make this happen. In the meantime, you guys are to keep finalizing the set list for the Hollywood Bowl show. We have two straight weeks of travel coming up with the documentary crew, and you’ll have to be ready to meet the bands you want to tag for the project.” He looked at us, like a serious dad laying out the chores for the day. “Time is short, guys. Get on it.”
With that final statement, he turned and stormed out, his expensive shoes clacking against the tile as he walked.
“The man knows how to do a dramatic exit, that’s for sure,” Alex laughed, finally wiping the frosting off his face now that Mick wasn’t around to be annoyed by it anymore.
“We really should finalize the list for the documentary, though,” Gavin said, reaching for the iPad Mick had brought over earlier. “We have a meeting with the director next week, and Mick said that the production crew wants to finalize the travel schedule, so we’ll need to know which four bands we want to approach, as well as have a backup list in case any of them turn us down.”
“Who the hell would turn down an opportunity to perform with us at the Hollywood Bowl?” Alex seemed astonished by the very idea someone wouldn’t want to be in our presence.
He’d never spent time in Grand Rapids, Minnesota, however, where half the town looked like they wanted to spit on me every time I walked down the street.
