[Chapter 35: When I See You Again]
"Is this the place?"
"Yes, this is it. But back then, it was burned to the ground. After it was rebuilt, it wasn't connected to me anymore."
New York, The Bronx.
The Bronx at night felt even more dangerous.
Before the 1950s, this area was a peaceful white suburb of New York City.
But after World War II, as the neighborhood aged and populations declined, many white residents moved out. More and more Latino and African American families moved in. Gradually, it became known as one of the most dangerous areas in the country.
Its crime rate was among the highest nationwide. During the 1970s and 80s, residential arson was common in the Bronx. Even by 2025, it still ranked among the ten most dangerous places in the US.
In 2024 alone, 65 people died from shootings here. More than 300 were injured, with over a thousand reported gun-related incidents.
And this was 1990 -- the situation was worse.
If it weren't for doing a radio show, Orlando definitely wouldn't come back to this godforsaken place.
It was already 9 p.m.
Orlando had just finished recording a show with Bronx radio legend, Frankie Crocker.
As they left, the car passed right by the site of the restaurant where Orlando's grandfather had suffered during an arson attack years ago -- the original building was now gone.
In that instant, a wave of intense emotions belonging to Orlando's previous self surged up.
He chose to stop nearby and take another look at the place where his former self had lived for over a decade.
"Listen, man..." Frank spoke softly, reading Orlando's complicated expression as his eyes fixed on the recently rebuilt building outside.
"I reached out to some contacts in the NYPD and pulled some files -- the fire report and the case files on your parents' car accident."
"Oh?" Orlando snapped out of his trance and looked at Frank.
His telepathy told him Frank wasn't lying. Frank had really used his connections to dig for information. Why? To win favor with his client -- Orlando -- showing professionalism as a celebrity manager. After all, gaining a client's trust, even friendship, helped keep him as their manager longer.
"The fire happened three years ago, so it was easier to investigate. The NYPD records show it was tied to a gang feud here."
Frank's voice softened, as if to comfort Orlando. "That unfortunate incident happened, but thank God you survived."
Orlando nodded.
Back then, his former self was nearly fifteen and already mature enough to understand.
It was just bad luck -- caught in the crossfire.
Afterwards, his former self couldn't afford the rebuilding costs, taxes, or upkeep.
Eventually, the local government repossessed the property the Keller family had worked so hard to secure in the Bronx.
"But your parents' car accident has some issues."
"How so?" Orlando suddenly perked up.
He had inherited more than just his former self's sharp looks and strong body. He carried memories and emotions too. Though his soul dominated, hearing about this stirred his emotions again.
Frank continued, "The accident itself wasn't suspicious. But the NYPD file shows your father, who was driving, had been drinking. His blood alcohol level was over 0.10% BAC -- legally drunk. That caused both your parents' deaths, and the insurance company refused to pay out. The twist is your mother had personal accident insurance. It was bought for her by her cousin. And the NYPD files show your parents were returning from your mother's cousin's party when the accident happened."
"You mean..." Orlando frowned, "My mother's cousin might have caused my parents to drive drunk and crash?"
Frank shook his head. "I can't say for sure. But after reviewing those NYPD and family files, something seemed off. Orlando, do you still keep in touch with your aunt?"
"Aunt..." Orlando thought for a moment, the image of Aunt Becky -- who he'd never been very close to -- came to mind.
He shook his head. "I barely contacted anyone after my parents died, or I wouldn't have come close to becoming a thief. But I remember my grandfather saying Aunt Becky moved to Los Angeles with her family about six months after my parents died."
He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe Aunt Becky moved to L.A. thanks to the insurance money from my mother's personal accident policy?"
"Can't be sure, but it's possible."
Orlando paused thoughtfully, then asked, "Frank, what do you think I should do? I have to do something, right?"
Even though this happened ten years ago, uncovering the truth wouldn't be easy.
But doing nothing -- whether as his former self or as Orlando now -- would leave a hole in his heart.
"Why not hire a private investigator? They're experts at these kinds of cases. Let them start digging; see if they can find any evidence. Without concrete proof, it's not wise to go directly to the police or FBI."
Orlando considered this sensible advice.
"Okay, I'll trust your judgment."
Orlando nodded, once again staring out at the familiar yet strange place. Just looking stirred up memories and emotions of his former self.
Then, a familiar feeling swept over him.
Orlando paused, then sighed. "Frank, do you have any paper and a pen?"
"Huh?"
Frank looked startled but quickly caught on, his face lighting up with delight. "You've got inspiration?"
"Yes."
"Right away!"
Frank hurriedly pulled out paper and a pen from his briefcase.
He thoughtfully uncapped his Montblanc Meisterstuck, a gold pen dubbed the Rolls-Royce of pens.
He tested the ink, and once everything was perfect, handed it to Orlando.
Then, he watched as Orlando quickly scribbled down lyrics and simple music notation.
♫ It's been a long day without you, my friend
And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again
We've come a long way from where we began
Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again
When I see you again ♫
*****
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