Mistaken Identity

“When JFK, the president, got shot, they had to swear in the vice president right that day. Same fuckin’ day. You know why? They had to show the world that just ’cause a great man died, the line of power was okay. The country was in good hands.” Browning shifted closer in his fake alligator shoes. “You know, man, you’re all fucked up over Anthony. You got to get clear, man. You been in a funk for a year, mopin’ like a little baby.”

Star’s neat head snapped around. He didn’t like to be talked to that way.

“You heard me. You need somebody to tell you the truth, man, not like those yes-men you got. You upset about Anthony gettin’ whacked, you do somethin’ about it. You hear me, stop cryin’ and do somethin’. But don’t let it fuck up Harris, man. Lotta money to be made on Harris. A career to be made on Harris.”

“Fuck you!” Star shoved Browning in the chest, and the man flew off his feet and crashed backward into the lockers.

Star stood in the hot shower. Water pounded on his shoulders and coursed down the muscles of his naked body. His skin was sleek as a Thoroughbred’s, a rich, dark chestnut. Thick veins ran close to its surface and snaked down his forearms. Star stood under the water, his head thrown back, trying to keep his mind blank. Trying not to think about Anthony or the bitch who capped him. Or Browning, with the alligator shoes.

You upset about Anthony gettin’ whacked, you do somethin’ about it.

Star twisted the knob on the wall, turning up the water temperature. He let the hot water hit his shoulders. His muscles tingled. His veins opened wide as tu

You upset about Anthony gettin’ whacked, you do somethin’ about it.

Star squeezed his eyes shut tight and twisted the knob ’til the shower was hot as he could stand it. Then, hotter. Water scorched his biceps and blistered his chest. He opened his mouth and steaming water rushed in. His tongue was on fire. Star could take punishment, everybody said so. Blows that buckled the knees of other men, sending them to the canvas like they were prayin’ to God. But this was a blow that Star never took in the ring. This was a hurt like nothin’ he ever felt. He couldn’t make it stop and he couldn’t take it neither.

You upset about Anthony gettin’ whacked, you do somethin’ about it.

Hot water rained like flames from heaven, and suddenly Star roared. He never made no noise in his life, not in all his fights, but he kept roaring, not knowing where in him the sound came from. He heard it echo off the tile walls, turning the shitty shower into his den. He roared louder and louder until his skin burned like the sun. It made him feel strong and clear like never before. Star got tougher in the fire, like steel.

And then he knew what he had to do.

7

At home, Be

“Okay, that’s everything,” Be

“Ready,” Grady said. He leaned against the two-by-fours that would reinforce the dining room walls. His gray eyes sca

“Yes. Now. The first photo, Exhibit A, you saw already. It’s the one with the airmen in front of the plane, the one I showed my mother. Exhibit B, the second photo, is of the same pilot, Bill Winslow, my father. Holding two babies about the same age.”

“The same age?” Grady leaned over the black-and-white picture and compared it with the pilots’ group photo; a young, fair-haired man in a white T-shirt and rolled-up blue jeans was sitting on a brick step, gri

“Me neither. They could be twins, but who knows? It’s Winslow, though.”

“How do you know for sure? You never met your father, did you?”

“No, but I think it is. Maybe he came back for this photo, I don’t know. That’s his name and his eyes are like mine. Now, this is Exhibit C.” Be

He gri

“Sixteen, seventeen. A lot younger than I am now. Isn’t that weird?” Be

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a photo of your mother that you haven’t taken. Let me see that.” Grady slid the photo from Be

“That’s my mother’s handwriting. I’m supposed to believe she gave the photo to Winslow, who gave it to Co

“Do you believe her?” He raised a faint eyebrow.

“No, of course not. Although it’s strange that she had these pictures, especially the one of my mother.”

“Wait a minute.” Grady handed Be

“But it says ‘For Bill’ on the back, in my mother’s writing.”

“Maybe Co

“Yeah, but how?” Be

“I don’t know, but I don’t like you being manipulated by some con.” Grady folded his arms and his T-shirt edged up over slim, ropy biceps. Golden hair covered his forearms, and his wrists were narrow, so his Swiss Army watch seemed crudely oversized. “Does Co

“There is a resemblance, a definite resemblance.”

“A resemblance doesn’t cut it for identical twins.” Grady pursed his lips. “Identical twins look identical. They come from a single egg, fertilized by a single sperm that splits. The DNA in identical twins is the same, and I’m sure you can test for it. Why don’t you ask Co

“That’s bizarre, don’t you think?”

“No. Not if you’re even considering representing this woman, which I hope you’re not, by the way.”

“You don’t think I should represent her?”

Grady laughed softly. “Under no circumstances should you represent her.”

“Why not?” Be

“Not exactly.” Grady shook his head. “Whether she’s your twin or not, you shouldn’t represent her. You don’t know who she is.”