had ever lived in. For a moment, I thought the jet, the grandfather, th

saw the

ant black dress, new shoes, and a c

me in the living area, reading a physi

s are frozen, worldwide. He is currently attempting to make a phone call to h

spaper precisely.

kyscraper. A team of lawyers, all sharp suits and sharper minds, stood wh

They had already found the shell company that owned the Vegas club, tracing it d

wyer said, his voice cold and clinical. "But we need

on house." I described the seedy lounges, the lecherous clients, the soul-cru

but it was being replaced by som

an old, dusty recording studio in a forgotten part of tow

said. "He was a sound engineer. He wor

p, ancient guilt. "I'm so sorry, kid," he

h reel-to-reel tape machines. He th

our dad, he was a genius. He wrote the melody, the lyrics, everything for that song. He felt bad for Jax's dad, who was always brok

essed

that raw, bluesy soul I had inherited. He was playing the melody, working

ry one. Jax's father. "It's not eno

ger, cut in. "Calm down, man. He's g

people. The same people Jax used an actor to pretend to be. The irony is, Jax is now secretly in business with the very syndicate that his

er tape. "This is the

in my hands. It was the trut

t was another aler

h Monroe Music. Sources say a highlight of the evening will be a 'ch

ell my pain. He was going to auction off the most degrading m

ather. The fire insid

I said, my voice steady. "He's going to