Author's Preface
Aunt Jia: You got Ha-eun’s invitation, right?
Aunt Jia: Do you have a plus-one yet?
Aunt Jia: You’re not turning out like your cousin are you?
Sevan glanced distractedly at his phone screen as it lit up once again with a new text message. He brushed his hand down the scar across his face, shifted lower on the sofa, and looked up at the probation officer across from him.
One of Sevan’s housemates had left the stovetop light on, and the probation officer was looking at it through the narrow kitchen doorway like she thought a burner might have been left on, too. She turned back to Sevan. “How was your trip to Miami?”
Sevan pressed his lips and buried his phone under his thigh. “Uh…good.”
“Glad to hear it.” There was a small pause. “This is the third time we’re meeting at your residence so I can verify your address.” The PO gave Sevan a long look.
Sevan traced two fingers up the side of his neck and briefly snagged the leather knot of his choker necklace. “Uh…yeah.”
“You’ve changed addresses three times in the last nine months,” the PO added. She was still staring at him.
“Yes,” Sevan confirmed. He put his hands together.
The PO sighed and wrote something on her clipboard. “And you now have a job at Wal-Mart?”
“Yes.” Sevan nodded.
“What happened to working at the gas station?”
“I started taking some overnighters at the Adaline,” Sevan responded. “The Adaline pays a lot better, so…”
“You still have the job at the assisted living and memory care facility?”
“Uh, yes…the Adaline.” His phone pinged with yet another text message. He glanced at it.
“Right.” The PO nodded and marked something on her page.
And then Sevan’s phone started ringing. He snatched it up and quickly swiped the dismiss option on his aunt’s name.
The PO’s eyes followed his hand as he put his phone aside again. “Mr. Montego. Why do you feel the need for extra income? Where is all the money going?”
Sevan grinned suddenly. His hands curled into loose fists against the dirty couch cushioning. “I—have no idea. ” A half laugh escaped his throat.
“Do you budget?”
Sevan sobered, and he sat back on the sofa. “That’s a good idea.” Bills from the high-end assisted living facility his father lived in—high bills, despite the discount Sevan got for being employed there. Recurring payments to help cover his sister’s outrageously priced medication. Damages and court fees. His personal rent, groceries, and gasoline didn’t make up even half of it. And then there was the Korean side of the family that Sevan could hardly afford to be related to.
“I think so, too,” The PO agreed. “I also think this is the same kind of panic for stability that led you to do what you did. I think, right now, slowing down and taking a breather may be the most important thing for you.”
Sevan raised his eyebrows mildly. He said nothing.
“Your sister went to nursing school, right? Have you considered doing the same? You passed your PCA certification no problem. You had four affidavits from coworkers praising how fast you learn, how your knowledge already rivals an LPN in some areas, your exceptional bedside manner. You have a gift, and you seem to enjoy working as a caretaker. Why not get the degree?”
Because unlike Lacey, Sevan didn’t have a sibling who would cover all the bills and tuition fees while he went to school for two years. “Um…yeah, that would be cool.” He shifted.
The PO smiled. “You should look into it, Mr. Montego.”
Sevan’s phone erupted into a second round of upbeat ringtone. He picked it up quickly, finger again moving to dismiss the call.
“Answer it,” the PO told him. She stood up. “We’re done here for today. I will see you at your next check-in-hopefully in the office, next time.” She gave him another look.
Sevan walked her to the door, his ringtone serenading from the sofa. As soon as the door was shut, he returned to the device.
“이모,” the caller ID read.
Sevan let out a suffocated breath and swiped the answer icon. He raised the phone to his face. An avalanche of frustrated Korean erupted on the other end of the line. And four seconds into his aunt’s tirade, Sevan received the first message.
His phone pinged.
Fully expecting the new text to be from another family member regarding his cousin’s upcoming wedding, Sevan put his aunt on speakerphone and slowly swiped down on the notification.
“Your relationship with the matriarch of this family would be much better if you listened to her advice for once,” Aunt Jia was saying. “Get married. Date, at least. And not playboy style like your cousin. You’re twenty-six, unmarried, still no prospects…”
But the text message was not from a relative. It wasn’t from a saved contact at all. There wasn’t even a phone number.
Private Number: You have a problem, and I might have a solution.
Sevan’s lip quirked.
“Sevan, are you listening to me?”
“Yes, I am.” Sevan blinked.
Another text message appeared. This one contained an image. It was a screen capture of an Instagram post. Rick’s Instagram post, with pictures of Lacey. “My wife is missing,” Rick had written in the caption. “She was last known to be heading to Los Angeles, California…”
For a moment, the entire wild goose chase replayed through Sevan’s head, from the last time an anonymous person had volunteered a supposed tip. Miami, sixteen hours there, sixteen hours back…
And then a new text came in.
Private Number: I don’t know where she is. But I understand you’re in Carmen Mississippi, and she’s in LA. I can get you to LA. I can arrange your permission to relocate with the probation office and get you cleared to travel. I can also get you a job and a place to stay in LA while you look for her.
Sevan stopped hearing Jia’s voice over the phone. Heat burned beneath his skin, his heart becoming a rapid throbbing in his chest. His sister, where he lived, his contact information, the fact that he was on probation. This was either a scammer who did a lot of research or…
…Or what?
Private Number: But do understand, the job I have for you is of an unconventional nature.
“Do you know if your sister is going?” And Sevan abruptly tuned back in to his aunt’s conversation.
“If my…If Lacey is going?” he swallowed. She was older. Lacey was older. She was also the one out of the sibling pair that had two Korean parents. And yet, as far as the family Sevan was only half related to was concerned, Sevan was in charge of his crazy sister.
The tip of Sevan’s tongue touched his lower lip. A job in LA. Exactly the thing he needed right now, dropping straight out of the sky from heaven as if by a miracle.
Definitely a scam.
Sevan’s fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie. He slowly tapped out a one-handed text message.
Sevan: who are you and what is this supposed job?
His first question went unanswered.
Private Number: On paper, you’ll be employed by RedViolet Entertainment as a Level I Clerical Assistant.
RedViolet. Level I Clerical Assistant. Sevan switched out of text messages and opened a web browser. R-E-D V-I-O-L-E-T E-N-T-E-R-T-A-I-N-M-E-N-T S-C-A-M. His fingers moved swiftly across the touch keyboard. He hit the search button.
The very first picture that greeted Sevan’s eyes left him paralyzed with shock. A full-color photograph of someone standing on a massive stage. A person Sevan had seen before.
“Do you know if your sister is going or not?” Jia’s voice came through the phone.
Long hair, dark at the top, platinum blond down to mid-back. Pierced nostril and philtrum, full sleeve tattoo, the exploding star on his neck. And in the image, he was standing on a stage, turned to the side just enough for the camera at his back to capture his face, a venue of possibly fifty thousand people in front of him.
Supernova.
Sevan’s fingertip limply pressed the center touch button on his phone, and he opened a screen search. Who is this person. He typed the question into the search bar. Waited for the search results to generate like he was on the verge of a heart attack.
“The person pictured here is Meikhyel Callisto, professionally known as Avis, an American singer, songwriter, and dancer. Avis first gained fame as a finalist on America’s Got Talent. He went on to join the rock band, Martyr, then debuted as a soloist signed with the RedViolet record label.”
Jia was saying something else over the phone, but Sevan barely heard it. He opened a search browser. Typed in four letters. Avis.
Pictures of him. A bio overview Sevan’s mind was too shot to read a word of. Pictures. Sevan tapped one and stared at it until he felt like he was going blind.
This was the same person. This was the same person. The hair, the face, the body type.
Like parts of a puzzle, Sevan’s mind struggled to make sense of the pieces. They hadn’t been police officers, then. Maybe. Maybe they were Supernova’s security. Avis’s security. He had slipped them, gone out for a night of partying, then they caught up with him at Sevan and Rick’s motel room.
No, he had been loose for longer than one night. He had a wiped phone and bus route search history. He had been very loose, and trying not to be found. Not too hard, though, because he clearly hadn’t changed his appearance.
How did someone like that know Lacey?
Meikhyel Callisto. Those brown eyes flashed through Sevan’s mind. The emptiness in them, staring up at him. Up, because he was hanging by one person’s grip from the eighth floor of the parking garage he had jumped from.
Sevan slowly swiped back to the text conversation with the private number. Fingers trembling a little, he tapped out a new message.
Sevan: And off paper?
The response came just seconds later.
Private Number: It’s an area you have experience in, as I understand. I need you to watch someone for me.
Sevan stared at the text message until it felt like his eyes were burning a hole straight to the back of his head. Experience. Like it were just like any other job experience.
Private Number: And I know about Miami.
It was five more seconds before all the pieces connected in Sevan’s mind. Miami. And watching people. Sevan’s criminal record and something about what happened in Miami made him a candidate for this supposed job.
In Miami, Meikhyel Callisto, a public figure, had attempted suicide. And Sevan Montego, an absolute nobody, had witnessed it.