Blitzed(91)

"I practiced hard for the audition, but my mother was even more into it than I was. For an entire two months before the tryout, she had me practicing ten, twelve hours a day. She even pulled me out of school after lunch each day to have me drill. Even in my sleep, I was seeing musical notes and bars."

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster," Felix said.

Jordan nodded, and I had to admit I felt a flare of jealousy at the look of understanding she gave him. I couldn’t help it, but my brother and I had a rivalry that ran deep. Besides, I’m the one who’d just gave her the f*ck of her life — at least, she sounded like she enjoyed it.

“You're right of course, in hindsight, Felix. But at the time, I was blinded by the idea of fame and fortune, while my mother . . . I think she was blinded by the opportunity for her daughter to do what she never did. The two of us charged full speed ahead. And then, the day of the audition, I was sitting in the wings of the audition hall, listening to the person before me, and the only thing I could think of was that I was nowhere near as good as them. I mean, I worked hard, and there was no way I was as good as this person. It was like a good high school player trying to step on the court with Kobe Bryant or something. Then I looked in, and I swear to God the girl playing couldn't have been older than ten or eleven, playing from memory. She finished this masterful rendition of Ernst's Variations on "The Last Rose of Summer," and just bows and walks out like nothing happened."

Felix whistled between his teeth, and I looked over, feeling like a dumbass. "What?"

"It's one of the most difficult violin solos in the world," Felix told me.

"Damn," I muttered under my breath. "And you had to go on after that?"

Jordan nodded. "I went out there on stage, sat down, and just froze. I mean, my bow never moved from the start position, and all I could do was sit there, looking at my strings, not even moving. The next thing I know, I'm looking into someone's face who's patting my cheek. I’d passed out, collapsing out of my chair and actually breaking my violin. They had to take me to the doctor to remove the last of the splinters from my side."

"Jesus," Felix whispered under his breath. "So that’s why no longer play."

I looked from Felix to Jordan and even I could feel the surge that passed between them. It was the feeling that there was a level of understanding, a connection that deep in my brain a voice whispered I would never fully understand.

"That's the reason," Jordan said, continuing her story. "After that, I just couldn't do it anymore. If I even looked at a violin for the next year, I went into trembles. I'd been messing around with the guitar for a few years prior to that, and I found that I had more affinity for it anyway. When I finished high school, I moved out here. Despite my parents objecting, I came out to Los Angeles to seek my fame and fortune. What was supposed to be a six-month dream chase has turned into seven years of up and down work. When my parents died, I just didn't see the need to go back to St. Louis."

"I think it is our turn now," Felix said, looking at Jordan's face. I agreed with him, her eyes were haunted by more than just the memories of a bad audition. There were years of pain and rejection written on her face, of bearing burdens that were nearly unbearable. "What would you like to hear about?"

Jordan looked from Felix to me, then back to Felix. "Tell me about how you went into the family business."

I looked at Felix and shrugged. "It’s your call, Felix. You’re the elder brother."

Felix rolled his eyes and sighed. "I am. All right, Jordan. You shared something painful with us, I suppose it’s only fair to tell you a little about us."





Chapter 9





Felix





"Our father was French," I said, looking at Jordan with respect and something else in my eyes. It was strange, how a simple decision that had been made in an instant to merely preserve a limited haul's success had evolved into something else. There was a growing possibility in my mind that what I wanted to explore was worth more than the limited profit we'd make from the swords.

"You told me that already," Jordan said with a small smirk. She was still a bit rattled from telling her story of the violin audition, but she was recovering well from it. "And that your mother was Romani."

I nodded, chuckling at my poor start. "That is true, isn't it? Well, he was an art thief, one of the best in the world. For nearly thirty years, he pulled off jobs that nobody else would even touch. He even got a few pieces from the Louvre's collection, although he never went into the main museum. He was far too skilled for that. Instead, he would often make them disappear like magic during transports, when they were taken for cleaning, things like that."

"So how good are we talking?" Jordan asked.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I said. Jordan looked at me like I was bragging, and I held up my hands, nodding. "I'm being honest. Father was . . . he was amazing. There are rumors, ones that even he wouldn’t confirm for us before he died that some of the supposedly world's greatest pieces hanging in galleries are forgeries slipped in by him in order to cover up his activities. I do know that in his home were a few pictures that also hang in various museums in New York, London, and even Moscow."