Losing Francesca (13 page)

"Uh…" I get it now. My end of the deal. "Yeah, sure. I'd love to, Frank."

Frank looks up and smiles. "Really, Fi—I mean, Francesca?"

Oh, I feel so, so terrible, but I suck it up and continue. "Yeah, why not? I actually love the jumpers, maybe you'll even let me ride her once or twice while I'm still here? That would be a thrill."

The whole table goes silent.

"I mean… I didn't mean it like
that
." I figure I should just shut the hell up now.

Sean shoots me a dirty look but Frank still has a smile. "You can have a horse here, Francesca. What level are you?"

"Advanced," I say. I am. Why pretend? "I've trained all over the world."

"Where, exactly?"

His eyes are red, I notice now. And the stress on his face is too much for me to stand my ground. So I relent. "Too many places to list, but…"

He drops his silverware and grunts before muttering, "Please do not make up any more lies."

Everyone stares at me.

"Frank," I say calmly. "I was not going to lie, I just need a moment to choose one. I went to many, many schools."

"Why? Why did you change school so often?"

"One school where I trained," I pick up the first question instead of the dangerous one, "was The Gregorian Grammar School in Victoria, Australia."

He lets out a long breath, like he was holding it in. "Never heard of it."

I never imagined he would, which is why I chose it in the first place. "Well, it's a nice school, and you know, expensive and exclusive and all that. I went there as a girl, the tail end of year four and the first part of five. So I had a pony there, her name was Roller Skates because she had a very smooth canter and it felt like roller skating."

Aimee giggles at this and I look over at her and smile. "She was the perfect show pony. Snooty and opinionated." I wink at the girl who wants me to be her sister and she covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. "I don't really think I owe you guys anything—"

Sean clears his throat again.

"—but I'll try and answer your questions as thoroughly as possible. It's just, those FBI guys are using me, you know. They're using all of us to try and get to my dad. And I'm not going to give up any information about my dad. So, there. I've put my foot down. I won't do it." I look over at Sean. "And I don't care what you threaten to do to me, I refuse to play this game with the American government. They are literally ruining my life. My future has been compromised and while I understand that you guys all have skin in this game, I've given up a lot more than you have so far. A lot more."

I stop to see if they're interested in a fight, but they're not. All seven pairs of eyeballs stare back at me. Silent, but hopeful.

"So, to answer your other question, the reason why I went to so many schools was because sometimes it becomes unsafe for me to stay in one place when I'm not at home. There. Are you happy?"

"Yes, we're happy," Angela says politely. "Thank you for being open with us, Francesca."

We all stare at each other for several awkward seconds and then Lindsey breaks the moment. "Come on, Chessie. I hear the lesson kids outside, they'll be waiting for us." We both push back from the table and make a quick escape.

Chapter Twenty-One - Brody

"So… she's Fiona?"

Mike Grippo is sitting on the top of the picnic table under the garage porch that serves as my customer waiting area when they bring me their cars to fix. He just got back in town for summer break from Ohio State.

Football scholarship. Free ride.

Not that I ever needed the money to go to college because we have plenty of money, but of all of us guys who hung out growing up, Mike Grippo is easily the dumbest. He's my friend, don't get me wrong, it's just that… free ride fucking scholarship?

It kills me.

Jealousy, I guess.

Not that I ever wanted to go to college either. School was not something I was concerned with during my teen years, as most of those were spent being an asshole or taking care of my little brothers after the parents died.

No, I never wanted to go. That was always Renn's thing.

What kills me is that I have never lived up to my full potential. Before the parents died I was angry and after the parents died, I was angrier. And looking back it seems that there has never been a moment in my life where I was not angry. I've been looking for something else since that day my mom told me Fiona was missing. And even now that she's back it scares the shit out of me.

"I dunno, Grip. Maybe she is, I'm not sure," I say as I work on his brakes.

"Well, does she look like Fiona?"

"Yeah, she does."

"Does she act like her?"

I stop what I'm doing to throw him a dirty look. "She's been gone twelve fucking years, Grip, how the fuck should I know if she acts like Fiona?"

He shrugs it off but keeps up the conversation. "Well, doesn't she have any birthmarks, freckles, or fuck, I don't know, a crooked tooth or something they can use to ID her?"

I looked this up, thinking the same thing. You don't need a college degree to figure there must be some sort of physical mark that might do the trick. I know they have x-rays of her teeth because I do actually have a memory of her and Sean going to the dentist. She came back cavity-free with a squirt gun toy that I promptly confiscated. I smile at this memory because she confessed later that she picked it out of that little toy chest they had in the waiting room just for me.

But the website I looked at online about forensic dentistry said you can't use baby teeth as markers for adults. They have no real relationship to each other. And I'm sure if she had some weird lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead or heart-shaped birthmark on her ass, the Sullivans would've figured that out by now.

"So, she's coming over? For lunch? How'd you manage that so fast if she's not Fiona?"

I've been asking myself the same thing. One minute she's all
I no Fiona Sullivan
in Italian, and the next we're lying on her bed and she's asking me to kiss her. No, I correct myself. She asked me to
please
kiss her. I look up at the NASCAR clock on the wall. "She should be here any minute."

"Cool, can't wait to see her."

"But your car's done now, dude, so you can take the fuck off."

He laughs. "Make me, you asswipe. I'm not missing out on seeing Fiona Sullivan come back from the dead. You're out of your mind."

I bend down to pick up my tools when I hear a truck pulling up in the driveway.

"Oh, well, I guess she comes with a bodyguard today."

I open the door that connects the garage to the house and shout, "Case! Bring the food. And Sean's here, so be good."

Case appears in the kitchen directly in front of me. "Do you think he knows I've been talking to Lindsey?"

"I think he's forgotten he has a sister named Lindsey, to be honest. But be nice all the same. I don't want any complications. Now go get the food and bring it to the back porch."

"You're playing hostess?" Grip asks.

"Get out, Mike. I'm fucking busy here."

"I told ya, I'm not leaving. I'll keep Sean occupied for you, how's that? We see each other at school all the time anyway, we're friends."

"Yeah, OK," I mutter under my breath as I wash my hands in the garage sink. They are already walking over towards us. "Hey!" I call.

Fiona smiles and all the doubts and worry I've built up over the course of the morning disappear.

She walks straight into the garage while Mike greets Sean like they didn't just see each other at school a few weeks ago.

"Hey," she says back as she gets close enough to smell. She smells like flowers and she's wearing a pair of loose jeans that sit low on her hips, a bright yellow tank top that shows off her bronze skin, and some yellow flip-flops. A large canvas bag hangs off one shoulder and she plays with a tassel on the zipper self-consciously.

"You look nice," I say as I dry my hands off.

She blushes. "Thanks."

"How's your day going?" I ask, nodding my head towards Sean. "He keeping you close today or what?"

Fiona glances back at her brother. "No, we're going out together after this, so he just came with. Plus he gave me a ride."

I guess my little talk last night did the trick. I take her hand and lead her out of the garage. "I got sandwiches for lunch, you like subs?"

Grip, Sean, Case, and Park are already chowing down when we walk around the other side of the house to the back porch. It's nice in the summer because it faces north, so you never have sun and it stays cool. Plus it's screened in, so the bugs don't eat you alive at night.

"Fiona Sullivan. It is you!"

"Grip, knock it off."

"What?" he asks, feigning innocence. "I'm allowed to have an opinion and I'm allowed to be happy she's back. Fiona," he says turning to her. "Do you remember me? Mike Grippo?"

She nods and we all stare at her with our mouths open. "Yeah, fifth-grade birthday party, Brody's first kiss, Susie Turner, spin the bottle."

Mike actually looks stunned for a moment until he puts it together. "You weren't at the party."

I laugh. "Just ignore that ape, Fee. He's taken a few too many hits to the head."

Sean shoots me a dirty look for something, but I'm not interested in finding out why, so I turn to Fiona and wave down at the sandwiches. "I don't know what you like, so I got a turkey club, a BLT, and roast beef."

"BLT, thanks."

I hand her the sandwich and some chips and then go inside to grab some sodas from the kitchen. When I come back out it's awkward. "What'd I miss?"

"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.