“Apparently, Brandi could still have a record even if it doesn’t come up in a Google search,” I tell her. “It could be sealed. Dad’s lawyer is going to do some poking around and get back to us if he finds anything.”

She smiles. “You’re so good at being bad.”

I walk her to the backstage area so she can warm up with the other dancers, and when I swing back after her show to scoop her up, Dad’s lawyer has already gotten back to me. His email is short and succinct, filled with lawyer jargon, but I skim it, ignoring the words I don’t know and his proposed dates to hit the course. Then I open the attachment and my jaw falls open.

“Tell me that’s a good jaw-drop and not a bad one,” Mei says, reaching for her seat belt as the driver peels away from the curb.

I push the phone so the screen is right in front of Mei’s face, so she can see the slightly grainy photo. Brandi against a white brick wall, holding a white sign with her name on it in black, in front of her chest. A mug shot.

Mei’s eyes narrow into a squint. “Holy shit.”

Brandi looks no more than fifteen in the picture. Her hair is short and curly, and her face looks fuller, but she has the same eyes and nose, the same last name. I don’t know how he got his hands on this, and I’m sure this isn’t kosher, which means he’s truly going to expect me to let him ogle my ass as I try to pretend to know what to do with a golf club, but I’ll deal with that later.

I take the phone back and scoff. “The bitch is a legit ex-con.”

Mei smiles. “Priceless.”

“What do you think she did?” I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper.

“He didn’t say?”

“He says her record is sealed.”

“Can’t he get his hands on it?”

“Maybe, but he’s a little creepy and I already have to figure out how to get out of golf.” I think it over. “Let’s just take this to my dad.”

I kiss Mei on her damp, salty forehead and wish her luck on her performance tonight, mainly because I know how much she detests well wishes. She slaps me on the ass and blows a kiss with her hand, and I seriously contemplate whether we were separated at birth because she is my twin, my soul sister straight to the core.

I pass my father’s study, the door ajar just enough for me to catch a glimpse of him bent over a pile of proofs, but he doesn’t hear me when I backtrack and appear under the threshold because he’s too busy barking orders to his cringey assistant through the phone.