“More convenient for who?” she shot back. “I couldn’t wait for Spider to make his
arrangements. I need the money now.”
“You don’t look like you need money,” Cameron noted. I wondered if he was referring to the
designer purse that had been hanging off her arm.
“How dare you!”
“Keep your voice down,” Cameron hissed.
And Frances’s voice was shushed. “Daniel has and will always be my priority. You, of all
people, are in no position to judge me.”
“This isn’t a place for kids. You shouldn’t be bringing him here.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she snickered. “You seem to be surrounding yourself with children
these days.”
“You have your money. Take the boy and leave immediately.” Cameron’s voice was calm and
businesslike.
“What’s the hurry!” she cackled. “Are Daniel and I getting in the way of your latest sexual
exploit?”
“It’s time to go, Frances.”
“I saw the way you were looking at that girl. For God’s sake, Cameron, she looks barely
fourteen years old.”
“Frances—”
Frances ignored the warning in his voice. “Then again, pure breeds like her tend to be well-
preserved. I guess that’s what happens when you spend your life being kept away from the likes
of you. She’s a little out of your league, don’t you think?”
“I’ll have Tiny escort you out.” Cameron was unchanged.
“Don’t you touch me!”
“You have what you came for. The rest is none of your business.”
“This has everything to do with me!” she yelled. “You will damage that poor girl. Good girls
like Emily aren’t equipped to deal with guys like you.”
Severe silence swept into the library and the room next to it. A slight whimper escaped my lips.
I had just been thrown in a roller coaster, mid-plunge.
“Do you really think that I wouldn’t recognize the red hair?” Frances pushed. “How old is
she now? Seventeen, eighteen?”
“You can leave, or I can make you leave. It’s your choice.” Cameron’s voice was tight now.
“You don’t scare me, Cameron—even though I know what you’re capable of. Question is … does
she know what you’re capable of? Does little Emily know the monster that you are?”
Cameron had finally been shaken. “Enough, Frances!”
“Yes, it is enough, isn’t it?” she spat. “Bill would’ve had you by the throat if he saw her
here, saw you looking at her like that.”
I had already heard enough by this point. My ears had swelled shut, as if my body had turned the
autopilot on to stop the crash-landing that would have come if I had kept listening. My knees
tucked themselves into my chest. My hand clasped the chain that was around my neck so tightly
that the angel pendant was leaving a bloody indent into the palm of my hand. I felt like I had
been caught in the tornado that had hit Rocco’s room, had sucked the air out and left a trail
of teenage essence behind.
Frances knew Bill. Cameron knew Bill. After years of yearning for answers, searching for any
glimpses of that whole other life, the one that my brother had led away from me; after
desperately sitting by as traces of my brother slowly disappeared with every moment, day, month,
year that passed until it was starting to feel like he had never really existed; someone other
than me had known Bill—and knew who I was.
How could I have missed this? I tried to go back through all of the events of the past few days,
but all I could remember was my conversation with Cameron that morning. He had listened to me
while I had told him about my big brother’s premature death, something that I had never told
anyone else because it was too painful. Yet—and yet, he had never said a word.
I wasn’t sure how long I had been parked in Rocco’s room like that. Frances and Danny were
long gone.
I peeled off the front cover of the magazine that had stuck to my half-clad behind and let my
limbs carry me back toward the front hallway. But Cameron intercepted me as he was running down
the steps.
His eyes canvassed my face, and he halted on the second last step. My face was hot and drenched.
“What’s up …” he asked slowly, carefully.
I considered side-stepping him and continuing to make my way up to his room. He was blocking my
passage. Something in his expression told me that he wasn’t going to let me through without an
explanation. There was a baseball rising up in my throat. I couldn’t tell if it was tears or
words. It turned out to be both.
“Bill …” was how I started. Cameron’s face went white. “… you knew me too … I needed a
clean towel … how could you?” In my head, these were fully structured sentences with nouns,
conjugated verbs, and all that stuff that made sense to other people.
Cameron and I just stared at each other. I looked at him through a veil of gathering tears.
Cameron blinked, but his face remained otherwise expressionless. This made me furious.