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Back The Night Bird
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. CONTENTS
  5. Start Reading
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. FROM THE AUTHOR
  59. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  60. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The song drifted to an end and left them in silence. They didn’t move. He could feel her holding on to him, and in the darkness of the hillside, she was soft and warm. Her body relaxed, as if a storm had passed. She had a faint smell of perfume in his arms. Finally, she let go and stared at him, just inches away. Her face was filled with yearning and confusion.

“Do you think I’m really okay?” she asked.

“I hope so. Let’s get you to the hospital and make sure.”

“Frost, don’t let anything happen to me,” Lucy said, taking his hand.

“I won’t,” he told her. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

37

37

Pam dressed to make sure everyone was looking at her. She wore a knee-length bodycon dress in a bold orange color, with black buttons making an S from her neck to her hips. Her blond hair framed her face and hung in layers halfway down her back. Her lipstick was baby pink. She wore a tiny crooked smile, as if the world were a joke and she knew the punch line.

For Frankie, staring at Pam was like looking at a mirror that transformed her into a younger, more erotic version of herself. She felt jealous of Pam, and Pam felt jealous of her. The war never ended.

She sat down opposite Pam at the Zingari window table. Virgil, whose dark eyes looked hungover, swooped in with iced tea, and Pam already had a martini in front of her. Her sister pointedly studied her phone without looking up. Frankie ordered a prosciutto pizza for lunch.

“So all this time, you knew,” Frankie said after the silence had gone on too long.

Her sister didn’t stop texting. “That Daddy took a dive? Yes.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

Pam put down the phone and laced her long fingers together. Her fingernails matched her dress. “What part do you mean, Sis? The part where our father kills himself? Or the part where my delicate flower of a sister can’t handle it and decides to forget the whole thing?”

Frankie thought, Missile launched. She wanted to fire back in kind, but she didn’t even remember enough to explain herself. She didn’t know why she’d felt the need to wipe away what she saw. She’d always thought of herself as strong, but maybe Pam was right. Maybe Frankie was afraid of feeling anything. Love. Hate. Desire. Grief.

God knows Pam would never let emotion get in the way of doing what she wanted.

“You’ve been playing with me, haven’t you?” Frankie asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The things you’ve said about Dad lately. It was a game to you. You wanted to see if I remembered anything.”