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was awake
or still dreaming. The soft sounds of someone strumming an acoustic
guitar drifted through the room, and someone - presumably not the
same someone, but you never know in dreams - was using me for a
human teddy bear.
    Reality asserted itself slowly, and I eased
out from under London's arm, trying not to wake him. I gave Brian a
little wave as I passed him on the way to the bathroom, where I
spent a good few minutes splashing water on my face, trying to wash
away my sleepiness.
    I was drying my face when I heard a cell
phone ring. It wasn't my cell; mine plays the Imperial March. This
one sounded like the mating call of some kind of robotic alien. Let it be Dylan , I thought as I dashed back into the
room.
    But Brian had gone back to picking out notes
on his guitar. It was London who had answered his cell. Mumbling
into the phone, he fought his way free from the duvet and wandered
out into the hall in his pajamas.
    "The girlfriend?" I asked, gesturing toward
the door.
    Brian shook his head. "His mum, maybe. He's
between mistakes right now."
    "Ouch."
    "It's just the truth. It's like he goes out
of his way to find girlfriends who won't stick around."
    "Some people are like that," I said, making
my way to the desk chair.
    "He wasn't always. It's like he's given up on
finding anything real."
    "That's kind of awful," I said. "Is it the
whole 'rock star' thing?"
    "It's the whole 'magic' thing. He actually
told a couple of his exes about it. Girls he was serious about. The
first one thought he was mental, wanted him to see a shrink. But
Julia was worse."
    "What's worse than having your girlfriend
think you're psycho?"
    "She believed him. She wanted him to learn
how to control his powers. She said he'd been given a gift and he
should use it to help others. She wanted him to be a
superhero.”
    "But he just wanted to be himself," I
guessed. "And that wasn't enough for her. And she broke things
off."
    "Yeah. But even worse, she made him doubt
himself. Made him feel guilty for not being the hero she wanted him
to be."
    "What a bitch," I said. "No one has a right
to tell someone else what to do with his life. Who the hell died
and made her God?"
    Brian flashed me a smile and went back to
playing his guitar. Guess story time was over.
    "It's too early in the morning for Pink
Floyd."
    "No such thing," Brian disagreed. "Besides,
it's past noon."
    I sighed, resigned to listening to him play
one of the most depressing - and beautiful - songs in the history
of rock music. Leaning back against the wall, I watched Brian for a
moment while I gathered my thoughts. I knew I needed to fill him in
on what London had learned during his internet search, but I wasn’t
sure where to start. I followed the advice I’d given London the
night before and opened my mouth to see what came out.
    “Turns out we’re in the wrong state to file a
missing persons report,” I said. Tact and I are not friends until
I’m fully awake and often not even then. “It has to be filed back
in Dallas. In person.” I watched varied emotions flit across
Brian’s face before he settled on resignation. “I’m going to have
to talk to my brother at some point today and tell him what’s going
on. I’ll see if he can work on things from that end,” I added.
    Brian gave me a solemn nod and then turned
his attention back to the guitar.
    I grabbed my laptop and went back to bed,
propping up on a giant mound of pillows. In the first rush of
panic, I hadn't been thinking clearly. I still wasn't, but sleep
had blown a little of the fog away, and it was time to play
P.I.
    Starting with Dylan's email accounts, I
combed through every internet source I could think of, looking for
some clue. Email first, then the social networking sites. I took
another look at the airline info, even though I trusted London to
know his way around a computer. Then I moved on to Dylan's bank
account.
    "Well, Dylan made it to DFW, at least," I
said.
    Brian stopped playing and looked up