“Not particularly. No.” She had been closed lipped like this at lunch, too.
“You’re pretty stubborn, you know that.”
“You don’t want inside my head, Ashland Keys. And you don’t need to get mixed up in my shit.”
“Fa-Frances!”
“No, Hollie. Stay out of this. It needs to be said.” She removed the eye mask and fixed her gaze on me. “I appreciate all you’ve done. All Karen has done. I’ll accept your hospitality because I have to right now. But my thoughts are my own. As soon as I can I’m moving on. Hollie and me both. Please don’t try to get her to tell you things that I won’t. You can’t fix the problems we have, and you’re not responsible for what happened, either.”
My gaze hardened. Her response seemed out of proportion to my simple inquiry. It almost seemed personal. “Your choice of course, Frances. Leaving now would be a dangerous choice in my opinion. If you’d drop the shield a bit, give me a try, you’d find out that I’m trustworthy.”
“I’ve insulted you.” She frowned. “After all you’ve done. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. My head’s hurting again. I think I’ll go lie down some more.” She reached for the ice pack and stood, glancing her sister’s way. “You coming, Hollie?”
“In a minute. I just need to finish up in here.”
“Alright.” She turned back to me. I’d risen, too. Apparently she hadn’t noticed. Her eyes widening, she took a step back from me, her pulse point in her neck beating rapidly. She had space between the coffee table and the couch to move right or left to continue on to the bedroom. I didn’t get the impression that she was afraid of me as a potential threat. Her nostrils flared. Was she attracted to me? Was that why she continued to be so furtive whenever I got close? I searched her features for clues. Her mouth was parted. She licked her lips. Her eyes had grown noticeably darker.
Possibly.
For me there was no possibly about it. I throbbed with awareness when she was near.
“Goodnight, Ashland.”
I liked the way she said my name. There was a slight accent in her voice. One I’d heard before. I cocked my head to the side trying to place it.
“Ash,” I corrected.
Something flared in her eyes, but she dropped her gaze before I could get a read.
“My friends call me Ash.” I removed the distance between us and touched her arm. The connection between us sizzled with heat. “Can’t you?”
“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Please don’t do this.”
“Do what?” I reached for her, gently capturing and lifting her chin. Her skin was appealingly soft. But I needed to see her eyes. There were answers inside them. I knew it.
“Don’t touch me.” Her gaze glowed translucent with her emotions heightened once more. “Don’t push. Just let me be.” She shifted and slipped away.
I watched her go thinking that what she wanted wasn’t possible. Even when she had only been another mystery on the streets, I hadn’t been able to let her be.
Chapter Eleven
* * *
Ashland
“She’ll never take it, you know,” Hollie declared.
“Take what?” I turned to look at her. Her strawberry blonde hair was freshly washed and loose around her tiny shoulders. Like her sister, she wore new clothing from Karen’s shop, for her a loose fitting blue Roxy tank and grey beach pants that she had rolled up at the ankles. So she was a little smaller than I had guessed.
“That leap of faith you’re asking from her. If it was just her involved? Maybe. But with me in the picture? Never.”
“Why’s that darlin’?”
“Lots of reasons. Guilt. Responsibility. Love. I’m sure you understand.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You and Linc grew up together, right?
“Yeah.”
“From what I’ve read about you two and heard in interviews, he seems more like a brother to you than a cousin.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.” I nodded. “Aren’t you a little young to be a Dirt Dogs’ fan?”
“Not me so much. No offense. But my sister is.”
“Frances?” I raised a brow, looking back toward where she had gone before I returned my attention to Hollie. “She doesn’t seem like much of a fan.”
“Well, she was.” She shrugged one shoulder. Was it a bullshit move denying the significance of what accompanied it when girls did it? “Anyway, I bet you took care of him. Linc. Looked out for him the way my sister does me.”
I lifted my chin to acknowledge that I had, and still did. That I always would. I studied her anew. She seemed vaguely familiar to me on some level.
“On account of the abuse?” she asked, eyes similar to Frances’ insightfully trained on mine.
“Partly,” I revealed. True I had wanted to protect Linc from any more physical harm. Mostly it had been simply because I loved him.
“I’m guessing you knew what was going on and you couldn’t stop it.”
“We were kids, but yeah.”
“It’s like that with us a lot. We each had our suspicions…well, now we both know.”
“I can understand that.”
“Yeah, I think you do. I’ve only just met you, and I can tell why she was so…” She shifted her slight frame and pursed her full lips. “I’ve said enough.” She put down the dish towel. “I better get to bed, too. She’ll fret about what I’ve already told you. Seventeen years old but she still treats me like I’m ten.”
“She’s not much older than you are.”
“She’ll be twenty-three a month after I turn eighteen.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“Two weeks from now. Not soon enough.”
“Anxious to vote, huh?”
“Anxious about a lot of things. Goodnight, Ash.”
“Night. Hollie.” It didn’t escape my notice that she had taken to calling me the shortened friend version of my name where her sibling wouldn’t.
“One more thing.” She stopped and turned to look at me biting her lip and twisting her hands. She was nervous. Where Frances’ hands fluttered Hollie’s twisted. “For what its worth if it were up to me, I’d tell you everything.”
“I wouldn’t want you to do that. I wouldn’t want you to betray her trust.”
“Yeah, I thought that’s what you might say.”
“So you don’t think she’s ever gonna come around with me and level with me?”
“Maybe before.” She shook her head sadly. “But not now.”
What happened before, I wondered. Was she referring to the time prior to the abuse? That would make sense. But why not just say that? Each conversation with one of these women left me with more questions.
I moved to the windows Frances had been staring out so intensely. The waves were calmer tonight. Almost as if they could settle now that she was in a safe place. She being Frances. The obsession continued. Nothing she or Hollie had said changed anything. Warnings to back off and cryptic conversations only made me more resolved to figure out what their real story was.
What her story was.
I pondered the mystery as I went to the entryway closet and retrieved the pillow and linens for the couch. I would sleep on it again tonight so I could keep an eye on them and guard the front door. As I tucked in the bottom sheet and snapped out the top, I acknowledged that I was committed to this course. No going backward. I wanted to do all I could to give them a shot at a better life free of whatever abuse they had endured. I knew from experience that freedom often came with a price. They would have to face their demons to overcome them.
I stretched out on the sofa my feet pointed toward the master bedroom, my eyes trained on the darkened hallway that led there. I thought about how difficult it had been for Linc to open up to me, his own cousin. It wasn’t going to be easy, but getting Frances to confide in me wasn’t optional.
• • •
Fanny
“What did you tell him?”
; “Nothing.”
“You were talking for a while, Hols.”
“You’re too paranoid.” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re far too trusting,” I chastised. “And besides that, I have a reason to be.”
“Not with him.”
“Never mind that he’s a member of a notorious rock band.”
“He’s retired.”
“Retired from the day to day partying and constant stream of groupies.” I’d seen enough from the sidelines these past weeks to vouch for that. Work. Friends. Hanging out at the Deck Bar, his life had changed a lot since I had met him. “Maybe not retired from breaking girls’ hearts.”
“He’s a nice guy, and you just don’t want to admit it.”
“Maybe.”
“Nice guys stand people up.”
“Maybe Samuel did get to him.” My hands fluttered in front of me.
“C’mon, Fanny. That’s hard to believe, don’t you think?” She captured my hands, stilling them, though not my tumbling thoughts where the handsome drummer was concerned. “Considering the way he reacted to Samuel at the Oscars? And now knowing his background with Linc, I don’t even think he’d take a call from our stepfather much less a payout or bow to a threat from him. Then or now,” she pointed out gently her gaze searching. “You never pressed him for an explanation.”
“I sent all those texts,” I reminded her. “He never answered them.”
“Yeah,” she allowed.
“But the past and my hurt feelings aside, this is about you and me and our safety right now. I don’t see why we have to go over this again. It’s better if he doesn’t figure out who we are until we’re long gone.”
“I guess.”
“You didn’t even tell Ernie where you went. I didn’t tell Tristan. Until Samuel’s guardianship expires, it has to be this way.”
“I wish Mom had never married him.”
“I wish a lot of things were different, too.” But the past couldn’t be undone. “What is past is prologue.”
“I know.” Her eyes teared up. “That was one of her favorite Shakespeare quotes.”
“Yeah.” Nowadays I wondered if the reasons my mother had given me were the whole truth.” Why she had left the man who I now suspected was Hollie’s biological father, as well as my own, behind and married Samuel we would probably never know.
“I miss Mom.” She sniffed.
“Me, too.” I withdrew my hands from hers and pointed at the bed. “Let’s get some rest.” While we can, I thought. “We’re both worn out.”
She nodded, and we dug into the sack that contained the toiletries and pajamas. We hadn’t unpacked any of the stuff Karen had brought over. For all Hollie’s talk I think she knew in her heart we weren’t staying long. Sure, I think she hoped for me to have some kind of resolution with Ashland. But maybe hope couldn’t transform reality the way we thought it could.
She climbed into the bed after donning a cute yellow PJ set stamped with daisies. I quickly grabbed another pair and put them on, too. Well, not so quickly. I moved like I was an eighty-year-old with arthritis. Still sore. Still recuperating. Still stuck here until I was stronger. But at least I managed to get the clothes on by myself. I smiled softly when I turned back to the bed. Hollie had the covers turned down next to her.
“Thanks.” I settled in, and she scooted closer laying her head on the arm I stretched out to her. I kissed the top of it tensing as I inhaled a familiar fragrance. “Where did you get that shampoo?” I whispered.
“It was in the bag with all the bathroom stuff.”
“Oh.” I had just begun to market the SoCal themed shampoo, bath gel and lotions that went with my fragrances. I guess Offshore had been one of the few specialty shops who had picked them up.
“It smells great in your hair,” I commented absently, glad I had refused to put my picture on the labeling. However, the company website was predominately displayed on all my products. I doubted Ashland had noticed, but just in case he did put two and two together, I made a note to myself to remove those bottles from the shower first thing in the morning.
Chapter Twelve
* * *
Ashland
Some people had nightmares that they were back in school and taking tests they hadn’t studied for. I relived my life before the diagnosis. Not in first person, but as a bystander witnessing it all unfold—the drugs, the sex, the experimentation without caution and watching myself making the same mistakes over and over but unable to stop it. Feeling like a hollow tube of ocean water had collapsed on top of me, I kicked for the surface of my consciousness knowing on some level that I was only tangled up in the sheets and not drowning beneath the waves.
“Shhh,” a soft voice soothed, and I felt a gentle touch smooth my hair from my brow. “You’re ok.” Then music, no words only a hummed melody, but the beautiful sound mesmerized me. Suddenly, I wasn’t fighting against the tide anymore but floating along with it. I didn’t want to wake. I wanted to listen to the voice and believe the hope I heard in it. I turned my head more fully into the caress and drifted deeper into slumber.
A gasp.
A clatter.
“Ash!”
I woke with a start. Bright sunlight blazed from the living room windows. Expecting the usual knot of sheets around my legs, I was surprised to find myself somehow free of them. Brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, Simone stood over me, wearing a perplexed expression along with her running clothes. She held the key I had given her in a lax grip. She wasn’t looking at me however. Her attention was on the kitchen.
“It’s ok,” Frances said, and I recognized her voice as the one in my dreams. “Ashland invited me to stay. I’m making breakfast. Would you like some?”
“Are you…I mean your eyes are just like hers…” I could hear both the question and the conclusion forming in the incredulousness of her tone. “Are you the Lakers Girl?”
“Yes. I’m Frances.”
As Simone moved toward the kitchen I threw back the sheet and put my feet on the floor trying to get my bearings. The world seemed to have done a reverse spin overnight.
“What happened to your face?”
“I got beaten up. I dragged myself to the public parking lot before Ashland found me and brought me up here.”
“That sounds terrible. You must have been so scared. I’m glad Ash was there to help. Do you know who did it?”
“Um…I…” She trailed off, her easy answers to Simone’s questions stalling as her eyes met mine.
“Don’t stop on my account, Frances. I’d like to know the answer to that question, too.”
“No one either of you would know.”
Clever evasion. I felt the edge of my mouth curve. Frances continued to watch me warily. I could feel Simone observing me just as carefully. But I wasn’t in the mood to address those just yet. I was too interested in unraveling Frances and the mystery she currently presented.
“I didn’t know you cooked. What’s for breakfast?” I decided not to press her for the name of her abuser, but if she thought that meant I was going to go give into all her other demands she was in for a surprise bigger than the one Simone had just experienced.
“A mushroom and sausage frittata.”
No wonder it smelled so delicious.
“Great. I’m starving.” I pulled out a barstool for Simone before I took a seat in my new favorite chair, the one with the best view of the chef and the ocean.
“We usually eat after we run.” Finding a woman in my apartment seemed to have thrown Simone completely off guard.
“Change in plans,” I explained. “With all that’s been going on I’m afraid I actually forgot it was our morning. I’ll have to pass on a run today. I wouldn’t feel right about leaving Frances here alone.”
Simone’s mouth parted in disbelief.
Yeah, kind of shocking I guessed. I couldn’t remember ever cancelling on her.
“Don’t change your routine for me.” Frances set a plate in
front of Simone before offering another to me. “I’ll be fine.”
She’d be fine sneaking out the door the minute we left is what she meant. I squinted my eyes skeptically at her. “We can change to a walk that way Frances can come with us. Same route, but I want to stop by Ramon’s place. Let Karen see for herself how Frances is doing. She won’t let it rest now that you’ve seen her.”
“Karen knows about the Lakers Girl…I mean Frances?” Simone asked.
“Yeah, I called her.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Simone frowned. She looked hurt about being left out of the loop.
“Because you cook about as well as I do. I figured you wouldn’t have any food in your house, which is what I needed along with clothes for both of them.”
“Both?” she interrupted, and I realized she wasn’t the only one off kilter this morning. Frances and I had forgotten to mention Hollie.
“He means my sister.”
“Your sister? Did she get beaten up, too?”
“No.” Frances flicked her gaze to the side. “She’s in there asleep. She’s getting over the flu.” She spoke the words loudly and slowly as if she meant for Hollie to hear. It was an odd thing to do if her sibling really was sleeping. “We’ve been resting a lot. Healing. Getting our strength back.” She aimed that last bit at me.
I got the undercurrent. She was reminding me that their stay here inside my apartment was time limited.
I raised a brow. We’d see. She might be the queen of stubbornness. But she was up against the king of tenacity, and I had a court of friends who shared that resolve.
I picked up the fork she’d set on the plate and carved off a big bite. The aroma rising from it had me salivating. Fluffy. Slight crust on the edge. Savory and perfectly salted. “This is fantastic, Frances.” I told her after swallowing the bite.
“Thanks.” She shrugged. “I figured we were all tired of scrambled eggs and lasagna.”
(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5) Page 65