by J. A. Huss
"Yeah," Grip says. "I'm gonna take off now." He grabs his food and walks away, calling, "I'll come back and pay you tonight, Brody."
"What'd he do?" I'm looking at Fiona and Sean, but Case chimes in.
"He asked Fiona if the perv who stole her is in jail."
"Well," Sean says, "I'm ready to go."
Fiona looks devastated. I'm not sure if it's because Sean wants to go or because Grip called her dad a perv and reminded her that he might go to jail, but I'm guessing both. "Sean, you can leave any time you want, but for the next forty-five minutes, I get to spend time with Fee. So take off, or sit down, or whatever, but she's not even done eating yet."
He looks at me and then her as he jingles his keys. "You wanna stay? I'll come back in a little bit, if you do."
Fiona looks up at him and smiles. "I do, thanks."
"OK, forty-five minutes and then we'll go do our thing."
"Thanks, Sean."
Case and Park go inside as Sean walks off and then it's just us. I slip onto the bench next to her and put my arm around her shoulder. "Don't mind Grip, he's a jerk. Your dad's not going to jail, everything will work out, you'll see."
She sighs and puts her food down. "I don't know, Brody. I talked Sean into taking me to a pay phone after this so I can call him, so maybe I can get a few words out before we have to hang up. I hope—" She stops to turn a little and look up to me. "I really hope that he has something good to say, because I'm starting to get really confused."
"Well, I'm sure he'll say all the right things, Fee. I'm sure he will. I mean why wouldn't he?"
"I have to call on the emergency line and that line has rules. So—"
I wait for her to finish, but she takes a bite of her sandwich instead. "So? I'm not following."
She takes a moment to think as she chews and then swallows with an audible gulp. "So, we're not allowed to discuss anything on that line, it's only used to tell each other we're still alive."
I have to think about this for a few seconds before I can actually formulate a reply. "Why the fuck do you need a way to tell each other you're still alive?"
She makes a half-hearted attempt at the buzzer noise from last night. "Sorry," she says softly. "That question is out of bounds."
Chapter Twenty-Two - Francesca
I've always known my life was not normal. It's never been a secret that I have to live differently than the other kids I've gone to school with. No close friends, no talking about home, no pictures with Dad, and an unusually strong attachment to my stepmother, Sophia. Believe me when I say all the kids I went to school with had messed-up lives as well. Maybe not to the degree that mine is, but rich people are different. They live by different rules, they see the world in a different way, and they have different problems… they are just different.
But the way I live has nothing to do with being an eccentric rich person.
"Do you have any pictures of her, Brody?" I finally manage after we sit at the picnic table in a heavy silence. "I've only seen the composite rendering from the FBI files."
He stands up and takes my hand. "I have a few up in my room."
He tugs a little and I follow him into the house, past a beautifully modern, but extremely messy kitchen, down a few steps into the sunken living room filled with dark leather furniture, and then over to the stairs by the front door.
"Don't worry," he says with a serious expression as he leads me up the stairs. "I won't try anything up in my room."
I let out a little laugh. "Should I be worried?"
"No," he laughs back. "I think we covered that last night."
Right, I think to myself. The perfect kiss on the perfect day. Even if this was starting out as the perfect day, I'm pretty sure Mike Grippo just ruined it for Brody. On the other hand, it might've been my revelation about the I'm-still-alive phone line my dad and I have. The jury's still out on that.
The stairs don't actually go up a whole level, more like three-quarters of a story, and when we get to the top there are three more sets of stairs that branch out in different directions. We take the one on the far left and climb again, this time a full story, and end up in a very large open bedroom.
It's more of a sitting area than a bedroom actually, because most of the space is taken up with couches and chairs. "You must entertain a lot of people up here, Brody Mason. You have quite the assortment of furniture."
"Eeeeennnnt. Sorry, ma'am, that question is out of bounds."
"Yeah, I bet it is."
"Oh," he says, pushing me over to the couch until I am forced to take a seat. "Now you want to share secrets, huh? And by the way, you never answered my question last night, so I get to start with that one tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Yeah, I'm taking you to the lake after dinner. Be ready at eight."
"Oh, I hope Frank and Sean are OK with that. I'll have to ask."
He looks at me funny. "So yesterday the SWAT dudes are about to shoot us on the road because you're ready to escape, you're pissed off at the world, you hate Frank, and Sean's a dick. But today, everything has changed. What's up?"
"It's all so messed up, ya know?" He shuffles through a drawer in a large dresser as I talk. "I mean, I understand what they're going through. It would be horrible to lose someone you love like that. And then to never know what happened to them, that's just all kinds of wrong. So, Sean and I made a deal. He'll take me to call my dad and I'll give everyone a chance."
Brody pulls out a spiral-bound book and sits down next to me on the couch. Our knees are touching, that's how close we are. This makes my heart beat faster for some reason, and the heat of his leg affects me in the strangest way. It's like my skin is super sensitive to his touch.
I do not move as his arm goes around me and he plops the book in my lap. "I would've helped you call your dad, ya know."
"I know, I told Sean that and that's why he gave in." I laugh a little under my breath.
"Already invoking the name Brody Mason to scare the shit out of people, I see. You're getting quite comfortable here, Fee."
I squirm a little because he's right. I've always been able to adjust to new surroundings and situations, but this is a little ridiculous. It's almost like I feel at home here or something. "What's this?" I ask, holding up the book so we can change the subject.
"Yearbook from elementary school. Fiona's in it. Just kindergarten, but there's a cute one of us at school holding hands."
"Awww," I laugh. "Show me."
He flips the book open and turns a few pages and then he points. "There, just look at me. Even back then I was adorable!"
I giggle, but it gets stuck in my throat when I recognize the face of the girl next to him. "Oh my God." It's not a huge picture and it's a little bit grainy because it is more than a decade old, but… "Those eyes…" I look up at him and he shrugs. "It can't be me."
Silence from Brody.
"It can't be."
"I have no idea, Francesca. I really don't. It would be so much easier if you were Frank's biological daughter or Sean's biological sister, but—" He throws his hands up. "You look an awful lot like her."
"But—I have memories of being little and they are not in America. Most of them anyway."
"What's that mean?" he asks hurriedly. "You've spent time in America before?"
"Of course, we came here lots of times when I was little. Business stuff for my dad."
"Wow, I don't even know what to say to that. That he would bring you back here after all that."
I try to hold down my irritation but I stiffen at his words anyway. "My dad did not steal me away from Frank and kill his wife so he could keep me as his own. I admit I look like this girl, but I have very clear memories of my childhood, Brody. I am not Fiona."
"OK, you're the boss. But I'll have you know that by admitting that, you've just forfeited your vintage Fruit Roll-Up."
"Oh geeze! You're a goof."
He closes the yearbook and whisks it across the room and it slides acro
ss the hardwood floor. "One question, not the favorite place one, that can wait until we have lots of time to discuss it. But just one easy one right now, OK?"
I nod.
"Do you like me, Francesca?"
I look up at him, expecting this to be a joke, but when I see his expression I get a little nervous. "Yes. I do."
"Is this why things are easier today? I mean, was it me? Who made it easier?"
I don't think I've ever seen a man as vulnerable as Brody Mason right here in this moment. He's pleading with me to make him matter. "Yeah, it's you. You chased me down in the woods and picked me up like some knight on a horse. Except you're the town bad boy on a dirt bike." He looks pleased with my characterization and that secretly makes my insides flutter. "And for the first time in almost two months, someone was listening to me. Someone cared about what I was saying. And maybe you don't believe me, but you at least allow my perspective to count."
"So I matter in this? Do I matter?"
"You make all the difference, Brody." He leans down and my heart begins to thump at the prospect of his kiss. I take a deep breath to calm myself and he draws back. "No, don't go away," I almost beg.
He smiles and pulls me close so he can kiss me on the side of the head. "I'm not going anywhere, Fee. Not a chance in fucking hell that I'll be going anywhere."
Chapter Twenty-Three - Francesca
"Hey," I say to distract myself from the fact that he kissed me on the head like a friend and to hide my secret disappointment that it wasn't my lips. "Do you have a computer I can borrow real fast?" Just as the words are out of my mouth I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway outside. "Oh, crap. He's back already."
"We have a laptop downstairs, you can check it out before you leave."
"No, I don't want Sean to know, so I can't. And I don't know if I can come back for lunch tomorrow. Frank has some show horse being delivered and I volunteered to help unload her."
"Well, I'm taking you to the lake tonight anyway, so you can check it out then. I'll pick you up this time, no Sean." He pulls me to my feet and we head downstairs just as the door-banging starts.
Sean is standing in the foyer and he gives us both a very dirty look as we come downstairs. He puts a protective hand behind my back to urge me outside and scowls at Brody when he thinks I'm not looking. I look back over my shoulder as Brody smiles and closes the door.
"He's not anything like you guys make him out to be, you know."
"Right, you keep telling yourself that, Fi—Francesca. He's been arrested quite a few times for fighting and I'm pretty sure one of them involved drugs too. He's dated every hot girl in town and the next three towns over on either side. And the saddest thing is that the only reason he's not in jail right now is because everyone sorta feels sorry for him because his parents died."
"Oh! That was not called for, Sean Sullivan! How'd you like it if people said the only reason you're tolerated around here is because your sister and mom were kidnapped?"
He opens my door for me and pushes me to get in, ignoring my question until he comes around the other side of the truck. "Sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mean it like that." I turn my head away and look out at the thick woods as we drive into town and then past the small strip of lakefront shops and head down an open stretch of highway.
Since I have no intention of talking, Sean continues the conversation about Brody. "It's just he's never been a guy I liked. He's always been a bit wild, reckless and, to be honest, mean. He's always been a pretty mean guy. Sure, he cleaned himself up after his parents died, but he fights, and it's not like he ever stopped fighting, he still does that shit. Most of the time his bullshit is the only thing people are talking about in this stupid town, and that's not a good thing. If a month goes by and Brody Mason's not in court for something, it's a miracle. And maybe most of it's stupid shit these days, but still. What the hell, ya know? He can't follow any rules? Any?"
"But he takes care of his brothers, right? I mean, he seems to be the only one around, so how bad could he be?"
"He's got an older brother, Renn. He's the responsible one. He's just on a business trip right now or something."
"Still, you can't be the town asshole and the guy who is so one hundred percent devoted to your little brothers and Fiona—"
"Hey! Mouth, please!"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know it was a rule. And you just said shit, like a bazillion times."
"You did too know it was a rule," he replies sternly. "You heard me with Lindsey the other day, so now you owe me a dollar for that and ten dollars for the F-word you screamed at Frank. And I'm allowed to say shit, I'm almost twenty-one and you're not even eighteen yet."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?"
"You and your big brother tendencies. I've never had any siblings so it's… sorta sweet."
"Whatever," he says under his breath. But when I sneak a glance at him as he turns left to pull into a grocery store parking lot, I catch him smiling. "I'll go in and buy the calling card here and then we'll drive over to Ashtabula to find a phone. Too many eyeballs around this place."
I have no idea where Ashtabula is, so this makes no difference to me. I just enjoy the drive because this place is sorta pretty, in a wild unkempt kind of way. It's woodsy and green, with old trees that block out the sky and make you feel cozy.
"Wait here," Sean says as he gets out. "I'll be back in a minute."
I watch him cross the busy parking lot and go inside and then take out Brody's phone from the purse I borrowed from Lindsey. I was going to give it back to him, but it slipped my mind. I turn it on and there are two texts waiting for me.
Neither of which are from Brody.
One is from Gabrielle. Meet later tonight? it asks.
The next one is from Samantha. Miss you!
I find the message from Brody yesterday and start typing.
Your harem is messaging you for a date tonight. What should I tell them?
A wait a few seconds and then get a reply. It says: :) Please tell them I'm taken.
I smile at that and message back. Or I could invite them to come with? Samantha misses you, I'm sure she'll love it.
I wait, but no answer. I'm just about to give up and turn the phone off before Sean comes back when I get a reply. From Samantha.
It says, Never mind.
I text Brody back with a smile and a, Gotta go. Brother's coming.
Sean strides across the parking lot like a guy with a purpose and lots of teen girls stop to watch him. I wonder if he has a girlfriend? Sean is not so bad, I decide. None of them are, really. They are not so bad. In fact, I can sorta feel myself settling in here. A few weeks isn't that long, and it's a hell of a lot better than being stuck in those institutions they had me in before. I imagine that's what prison is like, except I was alone most of the time, there was no one else around me at all. Except for the counselors and FBI people.
"Got it," Sean says as he tosses me the phone card. "I have no idea how much it costs to call wherever it is you're calling, so I got twenty-five dollars. Will that be enough?"
"Definitely," I reply with a snort.
He starts the truck, puts it in gear, and we leave the way we came. "What's that mean, anyway? You expecting a short conversation or something?"
"Or something."
He squints his eyes at me. "Elaborate, Fiona, or I'll turn the truck around."
"It's not a line to use for chatting, Sean. It's an emergency line, that's all. A quick I'm fine, don't panic emergency line."
He thinks about this for a few minutes as I gaze out the window, catching glimpses of Lake Erie between the houses that line the shore. "Have you ever called it before?"
"Yes."
"When and why?"
I laugh. "You really think I'm going to tell you that?"
He looks over at me again. "Yeah, you better tell me. I'm asking about you, not him. Why did you need to use the emergency line?"
I let out a long exasperated
breath of air and consider my options. I could lie, he'd never know. Or I could refuse. He can't make me tell him anything. Brody will repeat this whole process if I ask him to. But I'm not interested in alienating Sean for some reason. I like him despite our rocky start, and I want him to be on my side.
"When I was fourteen I was attending the International School in Vienna, Austria, which was sorta risky in the first place, but I only needed a place to stay until the term was over, so they put me there—"
"Who put you there and why was it risky?"
"—and my class went on an overnight school trip to Hungary, and then things just got weird, and I bugged out and called the number, and Nic came and got me." I take in a long breath of air. "End of story. I probably overreacted, but my dad was pleased that I had the good sense to take things seriously and I got to skip school for the rest of the term and go home for private tutoring."
I smile at that because going home was always so awesome.
"Who's Nic?"
"He's like, a bodyguard, maybe? I'm not really sure how to describe Nic. Family friend? Go-to guy, I guess. That's more like it. If I need anything, I go to Nic."
"Who put you in Vienna and why was it risky?"
"My dad, obviously, and my dad, obviously. And that's it, that's all you get."
He stews in that for the rest of the ride and pretty soon we come to another town. This one is bigger than Woods on the Lake and the other smaller place we stopped to buy the card. I assume it's Ashtabula, but I never saw a sign. He pulls into another grocery store, not the same chain as the last one, and parks the truck. "OK, the rules. You must speak English, you must let me listen. I'll end the call the second you stop doing either of these."
I just stare at him.
"Immediately, like no second chance at all."
"OK," I nod, and then open my door and slip down out of the truck.
Sean falls in next to me and we walk into the store. My stomach is doing all sorts of weird flips inside, I'm so nervous.
We find the pay phone tucked into a short hallway opposite a busy coffee bar and Sean takes out the card and starts dialing. "Do you have the number memorized, Fee?"
