Chapter 19

Sharon slowly sipped her Sangria. It was her third one in the past hour, and they were tasting better with every sip. She leaned back into the sofa and put her feet up on the table.

"I'm so fucking mad right now!" she yelled. "That bitch wants my help. She never needed my help before!"

Keith walked into the living room. He held two plates in his hands. "Sit up," he said.

Sharon sat up and took one of the plates from his hand. He sat next to her. She put the plate down and continued to inhale her drink.

"You better slow down on those," he said.

She took a big sip and set the glass down. "Keith, I thought I'd seen a lot. I thought I was seasoned, but when that bitch told me she stopped a payment to charity and the money wasn't even hers, it's her mysterious half-sister. What the fuck?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, it sounds like a bad soap opera. Drama."

"'Drama' is fucking right. I didn't lay the big bomb on you," she said.

"Wait, there's more. I know she's dying, right? Cue the dramatic music." He laughed. She was quiet. He stopped laughing. "Wait…seriously…she's dying?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, she has cancer."

"I'm sorry, baby, I had no idea," he said

"I know. It's so much. So now she wants me to find out where her siblings are and who they are. She told me to hire a private investigator. You'd be proud of me. I told her we weren't friends."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? What did she say?"

"I don't know. I left the room in dramatic fashion. I didn't give her the chance to reply."

"Good for you!" he said, then raised his glass and took a drink. "So now what? What are you gonna do?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Tell me what to do. What would you do?" "Honestly?" he said.

She nodded.

"I'd do it," he said. "I'd find out everything I could about her." "Why?" Sharon asked.

Keith shrugged his shoulders. "I'd want to know how she became such a bitch." She laughed. "She was born a bitch. Her mom was just as bad, if not worse."

He had a serious look on his face. "So, what are you going to do about you? Are you staying with the magazine or what?"

She frowned. "I don't know." She took the last sip of her Sangria.

She leaned her head all the way back, so as not to waste any of the cocktails, then looked at the empty glass and frowned.

"I need another one. Will you get me another one?" she said.

He looked at her. "You don't need another one."

"This isn't about need, babe; it's about want. I want another one."

Keith looked at her and shook his head, then took her empty glass and left the room.

She shouted out to him, "Thank you! Okay, I'm going to find out this info for her, then I'm gone."

He walked back into the room with a full glass of Sangria and handed it to her.

"Are you sure?" he said.

"Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I'm married to a rich doctor. Maybe I'll stay home and raise our children," she said, looking into his eyes.

He smiled. "You promise to get fat?"

She leaned forward and pulled him down on top of her. "I promise to get so fat, you can go out and bring me whatever I crave."

He pushed his lips down on hers. He could feel her warmth as her body started to move underneath him.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispered.

She nodded. He stood up and reached out his hand for her. They embraced and kissed, then he grabbed her by the hand and led her up the stairs.

The next morning, Sharon sat at her desk. Her head was pounding. She took the four aspirin sitting on her desk and washed them down with a large glass of water. She then rubbed her head and groaned.

"I shouldn't have had that 4th Sangria," she said out loud.

Her line buzzed, and her assistant came over the intercom. "Sharon, I have a Barry Proctor on line 3."

"Okay, put him through."

She picked up the phone. "Mr. Proctor, thank you for calling me back. Yes, I need to hire a private investigator. I need someone who understands discretion."

Tallulah and Michael listened to the recording of Lily's story in his small office. "You were right, T. There is a story here."

She looked at him with a serious face. "I don't think I feel comfortable telling the world Lily is Sylvia Blass's half-sister. I work for Sylvia Blass!" "Well, that explains the two birth certificates," he said.

"What should I do?" she asked.

He thought for a moment. "Take it to your editor and write the story. You're a good writer. Write the story."

She stood up. "I'm going home. I need to figure this out. Plus, I have my diet article due in a few days."

"I'll be here a while. I'll see you later," he said.

She waved goodbye and left the office.

Michael sighed and leaned back in his chair. He heard his cell buzz and dug the phone out of his pocket and clicked it on.

"Hello?"

"Mike!" Crazy Dave yelled into the phone.

"David, what's up?"

"Your homeless lady, I found the record producer. He's living in a rundown nursing home outside of Atlanta," David said.

"He's alive?" Michael said.

"Yes. I called the nursing home. He's there. He really doesn't have visitors."

Michael pulled out a piece of paper. "Give me the info," he said.

He quickly wrote down the information and thanked Crazy Dave, then called Tallulah.

"Hey, Michael," she said.

"So, I just hung up with Crazy Dave. Lily's producer is alive. He's in a small nursing home outside of Atlanta. I have all the info. I'll text it to you."

She gasped. "Wait...what?"

"Owen Katz is alive and living in Atlanta," he said. "Texting you now."

He quickly texted her the information, then texted Zoe:

I'm on way.

He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked out of the office.

Michael arrived at Zoe's restaurant around midnight. He knocked on the door. After several minutes, he saw her walking towards it. He waved and smiled, then watched her unlock the door and push it open.

"Hey, come on in." She smiled.

He was standing in front of her. She looked so beautiful. He gently put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. He leaned in and kissed her. She was warm and soft. He melted into her, then gently released her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi back," she said.

They held the gaze for a few more seconds, then she grabbed his hand and led him to the back table. "I thought we could sit and talk unless you're too tired." "No. I'm good to sit and talk."

He pulled out her chair. She smiled and sat down.

On the table was a bottle of Montoya Cabernet. "So far, you've liked every wine I've picked, so tonight I picked this." She held up the bottle.

"I don't know much about wine, but I'm guessing this is the good shit," he said. "If you like cabernet, yes, this is the good shit."

"I like everything you serve me," he said, giving her a sly look.

She poured his glass, then hers. They clinked glasses and both took a drink. "So, how was your day?" she said, sounding excited. "How's the layout coming?"

"Well, actually, pretty good," he replied, taking another drink of wine. "This is really good."

"What about you? Business good today?" he asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. We're steadily growing. I like it, but I didn't know how much work it would be. But I love it, so it isn't really work, right?" she replied.

"I'm like that with the paper. When I get in the editing zone and I'm putting together the layout, I tune everything out. I usually turn my ringer off and put on a pair of headphones so I get no distractions."

"You really like what you do, don't you?" she said.

"Yes, I do. I've wanted to be a journalist and/or editor since I was a kid. I put every dime I had into the paper. For a while, things were good. We've been around for 5 years, and I'm proud of that."

"You should. I do read your paper. Tallulah would kill me if I didn't." She laughed.

"Well, I think I can maybe publish 3 more editions. I plan on speaking to my staff next week. Most of them know, but we're family, so they should hear it from me."

He finished his wine, and she poured him another glass. "Isn't there some way you can keep the paper going?" He shook his head, "I'm tapped out, Zoe."

She frowned, then finished her wine and poured herself another glass.

"But on a good note, Tallulah got Lily to talk to her. She told her about her record and how she chose a life on the streets. I listened to most of the interview earlier," he said. "Wow," she said. "How did she do it?"

"She played her record for her."

"Smart," said Zoe.

"Okay, so I haven't told you the good part," he said.

"I love the good part of a story," she said.

"So, Lily had this singing career. It was just taking off. When she was 18, she found out Cliff Blass, the millionaire was her real father. His wife, Amanda Worthington-Blass, went nuts and stopped Lily's career," he said.

Zoe's eyes got wide. "So that's the Amanda she was talking about. But wait. Who's Amanda Worthington-Blass?"

He pulled out his phone and searched the Internet for Amanda Worthington-Blass. When he found what he was looking for, he handed the phone to her.

He watched her read and drank his wine. When she finished reading, she put down the phone.

"Wow," she said.

"Wow is right."

She took a drink of her wine. "So, Lily is a Blass. She's related to Sylvia Blass."

Michael nodded. "Yes. I don't think in today's world it would really be such a scandal. But back in the 60s? An interracial affair that produced children and the husband was from a wealthy, elite family? I think it was a big deal then," he said.

"Do you think Lily will sing at the open mic?" she said.

"Well, according to T, she said she would do it. But I dunno. She seems a little unpredictable to me," he said.

"She is," she said.

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