Crow's Row

“Do your parents have a lot of money?” he asked me.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I said, my irritation surfacing again, for

different reasons.

He shrugged. “I thought maybe these guys were trying to collect ransom in exchange for you.”

His voice trailed, suddenly distracted. A silver Mercedes had driven up the road and was stopped

at the entrance. One of the guards had his arm coolly resting on top of the car and chatted

through the downed window. The other guard stood closely behind him, at times standing on his

tippy toes, trying to catch a glimpse of the car’s occupant.

From the stupid grins on the guards’ faces, I guessed who was in the car—a guess that was

confirmed as I glimpsed a flip of the occupant’s blond hair.

Frances eventually drove through the male barriers and got out of her car.

“Looks like long-legs is back.” Griff exhaled.

“Long-legs?” Only a tinge of jealousy colored my tone.

Frances strolled toward Griff and me. She was wearing a short cotton white summer dress and

cowboy boots. The air was stifling and stagnant. Her golden hair seemed to have found imaginary

wind—it, along with other noticeable parts, bounced with every step. She looked like she was

walking off a country music video. Another strand of my carrot hair grudgingly frizzed out of my

tight ponytail.

“We didn’t get the chance to meet last time I was here. I’m Frances. You’re Emily, right?”

I smiled weakly.

Griff practically knocked me over extending his own hand to Frances. “I’m Griffin.”

Griffin? I mouthed to myself.

Frances shook his hand. “Where is everyone?”

Griff had forgotten how to speak.

“Working,” I responded for both of us.

“Well, I guess it’s just us then. Griffin, mind if I steal Emily for a bit?” Frances checked

as she looped her arm around mine. Griff just grinned and nodded.

“See you later, Griffin,” I emphasized and threw him a glare.

He sheepishly smiled back, his cheeks glowing red, not because of the sun.

Frances’s empty Mercedes sparkled in the sunlight.

“Where’s my nephew?” I blurted.

She was a little shocked.

“Cameron told me about you and Bill,” I explained.

She eyed me and shook her head in disbelief. “I’m very surprised he would have told you that.



“I overheard the two of you talking,” I admitted.

“Ah,” she grasped and answered, “My mom is watching Daniel.”

We ended up sitting by the pool. Some of the guards who were supposed to keep watch over the

clearing behind the pool house took turns promenading closer inland. The stupid grin outbreak

had spread to them too—a pandemic was surging. While they were trying to catch Frances’s

attention, her eyes were partly fixed on me.

“It’s weird finally meeting you. I’ve heard so much about you from Bill,” she gushed. I was

coming up smiling until she added, “You don’t look anything like I thought you would.” While

I busied myself with watching the pool water leak down my skinny white legs, I imagined her blue

eyes making their way to my hair.

“You just don’t look anything like your brother is what I meant …” She was trying to make

small talk, and amends. Her voice was hushed and sweet, like a morning dove cooing.

“How did you meet Bill?” I asked her, still looking at my wet feet.

“Gosh, that was such a long time ago.” From the corner of my eye, I could see a smile coming

to her lips. “We met in high school after he moved to Callister.”

“How long were you together … dating?”

“The first time, just a few months.”

My eyes shot up. “The first time?”

She reddened. “We broke up in high school. He dropped out, and I didn’t hear from him for a

long time. Then I ran into him on the street a couple of years later …” She stopped and took a

breath. “I didn’t know about Carly. Bill never told me he had a girlfriend … I had never met

her … I thought … he told me they were just friends.”

Although there was another flash of extreme disappointment in my brother, I knew that this was

really none of my business. “Did he tell you he was taking drugs?” One of the questions that

was bugging me most.

“He didn’t need to tell me,” she stressed. “Your brother was always using, Emily. He was

using even when we were in high school. Everyone who knew him well enough knew that.”

“Cameron didn’t,” I blurted. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her … I just didn’t want to

believe her.

“Is that what he told you?” she hissed under her breath, her knuckles clenched tightly to the

side of the pool.

I noticed that she kept a distant eye on the loitering guards. She smiled at one of them,

artificially; he was elated with her attention.

“I guess Cameron is just trying to protect you. The truth is hard to swallow.” Her voice was

sweet again.

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