“It’s a long story,” he said.
“You’re looking for your birth parents?”
“No. I mean, I was.”
“But you put your DNA into one of those genealogy sites?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“What part of ‘a long story’ is confusing you?”
“You’ve never told a long story. I don’t think you can. Just give me the broad strokes.”
He told her about the communication with PB. He didn’t tell her about his father.
“Read me the note,” Rola said when he finished.
Wilde did.
“So this PB guy is famous?”
“Or thinks he is,” Wilde said.
“I hope he’s being melodramatic.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that almost sounds like a suicide note,” Rola said.
Wilde had certainly taken notice of the message’s desperation and despair. “Can you see if you can get any information on the shell corporation?”
“Will you come by and see me and the kids?”
“Yes.”
“This isn’t a quid pro quo . I’ll get you the info anyway.”
“I know,” Wilde said. “I love you, Rola.”
“Yeah, I know. Are you back from Costa Rica?”
“Yes.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that. You back in the woods?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.”
“It’s all good.”
“I know,” Rola said. “That’s the problem. I’ll see what I can dig up on PB&J, but I doubt it’ll lead anywhere.”
He hung up and headed back inside. Laila was gone from the room. Matthew was half watching the second half, half surfing or whatever on his laptop. Wilde collapsed onto the couch next to him.
“Where’s your mother?” he asked.
“She’s upstairs working. You know she’s got a boyfriend?”
Wilde chose to answer the question with a question. “You okay with it?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?”
“Just asking.”
“Not up to me.”
“True,” Wilde said.
The game came out of commercial. Matthew folded his arms and focused on the screen. “Darryl’s a little too polished.”
Wilde gave a noncommittal “Oh.”
“Like he never uses contractions. It’s always ‘I am’ never ‘I’m.’ ‘Do not’ instead of ‘don’t.’ Annoys the shit out of me.”
Wilde said nothing.
“He’s got matching silk pajamas. Black. Looks like a suit. Even his workout clothes match.”
Wilde continued to say nothing.
“No thoughts?”
“He sounds like an ogre,” Wilde said.
“Right?”
“Not right. We let your mom do what makes her happy.”
“If you say so.”
They fell into a comfortable silence the same way Wilde used to with Matthew’s father.
A few minutes later, Matthew said, “Observation.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re distracted, Wilde. Or if I was Darryl, I would say, ‘You are distracted, Wilde.’”
Wilde couldn’t help but smile. “I could see how that would be annoying.”
“Right?”
“I met my biological father.”
“Wait, what?”
Wilde nodded. Matthew sat up and turned all his attention to Wilde. His father used to do this too—one of those people who had the ability to make you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. Spilling his guts was hardly Wilde’s forte, but perhaps he owed Matthew at least that much after his stupid vanishing act.
“He lives in Las Vegas.”
“Cool. Like in a casino?”
“No. He’s in construction.”
“How did you find him?”
“One of those ancestry DNA sites.”
“Wow. So you went to Vegas?”
“Yep.”
Matthew spread his hands. “And?”
“And he didn’t know I existed and doesn’t know who the mother is.”
Matthew stayed quiet while Wilde elaborated. When he finished, Matthew frowned and said, “Odd.”
“What?”
“He doesn’t remember her name.”
“Why is that odd?”
Matthew frowned again. “Okay, you, well, you sleep with a lot of women, so maybe you don’t remember all their names. I get that. It’s gross, Wilde. But I get it.”