One Chance, One Moment

One Chance, One Moment

Overture:

I AM YOUR CHILD

Garry Danzlo stood alone in the middle of the room, surrounded by towering walls that shimmered with gold and platinum records. Facing him were tall sunlit windows that filtered in the last hot rays of the day. But those sunny, ardent rays did little to warm him in the one room of his Bel Air mansion he depended on to make him feel good. His eye flinched at the award plaques that hung neatly in rows on the wall to his right. Each one beamed a wild adventure and held life-changing experiences he would cherish for a lifetime. To his left was a gold Grammy encased in glass, standing radiantly proud on a marble pedestal. And next to it was his beloved piano, as black and grand as the tailored suit he wore.

These were just a few of the visible signs of his extraordinary success—proof of his worth. But today, he felt like a tarnished fixture among the shining pieces of his life.

He glanced down at his tanned, gifted hands. One held a glass of brandy firmly; the other was shaking. He slid the shaking hand into his pants pocket, exhaling a calm breath. When he inhaled, the woodsy plum aroma ascended from his glass, luring his tongue to take a swallow. Yet his gaze stayed fixed on the glittering lights in his drink, the reflection of his adventure to paradise stinging his brow.

He moved toward the window, his eyes unfocused on the panoramic view of the splendorous mountains and canyons of California. He dismissed the reflection of himself that stared back at him, avoiding it as usual, for he’d never much cared for his visage. He’d always considered himself not handsome. His nose sat large, his chin appearing too short next to his broad shoulders. He thought himself too tall, too thin, and certainly undeserving of a title such as hunk. Yet the tabloids called him that. But it was the fame and fortune, he decided, that made one look better, and the talent with which he was blessed that made him the popular man he was today.

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