Hi- here's a short chapter to tide you over while I write some more
over the weekend! Please R&R! Thanks =)
A small bell attached to the door of The Backlit Corner jingled as Chris, Christina, and Frank entered. It was a pretty swanky place, draped in dark, lush fabrics, equipped with black leather booths and a sleek marble bar. Frank guessed the place was probably packed during the evening hours. But right now, there was only one patron, who wasn't a patron at all, but an employee. "We don't open until six," the man said without looking up from the bar where he was stocking bottles of liquor. "That's fine. We're not here for drinks," Chris said approaching the bar. He sat down on a barstool and folded his hands on the counter. This time, the bartender looked up. "Oh really? What, then, are you here for?" he asked, looking from Chris, to Frank, to Christina, where his gaze held for a moment longer. "You know a woman named Julie Devlin?" Frank asked. The man's eyes narrowed and darted back and forth between the three. "Julie?" he asked. "Yeah, I know her. She doesn't come in here much, but I've seen her around town. Nice woman. Why?" he said. "Know where we could find her?" Frank asked. The man nodded. "Yeah, I think she lives on Oakville Street somewhere. Why?" he repeated. Chris only smiled, and began to stand. "Thanks," he said, and turned to go. "Hey!" the barkeep spoke up. Chris stopped and turned around. "Could you at least tell me what you want with Julie? I mean, I don't think I could live with myself if I just gave Julie's address to a serial killer or something," the barkeep said, and laughed nervously. "Don't worry," Christina said. "We're not going to kill her intentionally, but she might have a heart attack when she sees us again." She smiled sweetly, and laid a five dollar bill on the bar. "Thanks," she said, and she sauntered out. Frank and Chris nodded at the bartender, and followed Christina out. * Alison got up early the next morning. She hadn't been able to sleep at all the night before, and Jamal had tossed and turned next to her, but they didn't speak. What was there to say? She was standing at the counter sipping coffee when Jamal came into the kitchen. It was appropriately rainy out this morning, and Alison stared absently out into the gray sky. "Hey," Jamal said softly, startling her. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. He patted the chair next to him, urging his wife to do the same. "She's going to be all right, Ali. She was born to do this," he said, trying to enstow some confidence in her. Alison sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her as she leaned into him. "I know that, Jamal. But so was her father, and look what happened to him." Jamal turned Alison's chin up to look him in the eyes. "Rafe is exactly who you need to keep in mind here, Ali," Jamal explained. "He's up there guarding you and Raven, and he is not going to let anything happen to his only daughter. I can tell you that now." Alison took a deep breath. In her heart, she knew that Rafe would take care of Raven, but it didn't make this any easier. Suddenly, the phone rang. Jamal answered it. "Hello?" "Hey, Jamal, it's Danny. Is Raven home?" Jamal's stomach thumped as he realized something. Danny didn't know yet. He didn't know anything.
*
Sascha felt bad about how she had treated her mother, but she tried to justify it in her mind. She had lied to her. Sascha tried not to think about her mother, instead, about what she wanted to ask her father. Her real father. As she thought, another idea came to her. Dad. What was Frank going to do when he came home? How was he going to take this? Then it occurred to her that he was just as guilty as Karen was in hiding the truth. What Sascha didn't know was that Frank had more secrets than just Ricky. Plenty more.
*
A small bell attached to the door of The Backlit Corner jingled as Chris, Christina, and Frank entered. It was a pretty swanky place, draped in dark, lush fabrics, equipped with black leather booths and a sleek marble bar. Frank guessed the place was probably packed during the evening hours. But right now, there was only one patron, who wasn't a patron at all, but an employee. "We don't open until six," the man said without looking up from the bar where he was stocking bottles of liquor. "That's fine. We're not here for drinks," Chris said approaching the bar. He sat down on a barstool and folded his hands on the counter. This time, the bartender looked up. "Oh really? What, then, are you here for?" he asked, looking from Chris, to Frank, to Christina, where his gaze held for a moment longer. "You know a woman named Julie Devlin?" Frank asked. The man's eyes narrowed and darted back and forth between the three. "Julie?" he asked. "Yeah, I know her. She doesn't come in here much, but I've seen her around town. Nice woman. Why?" he said. "Know where we could find her?" Frank asked. The man nodded. "Yeah, I think she lives on Oakville Street somewhere. Why?" he repeated. Chris only smiled, and began to stand. "Thanks," he said, and turned to go. "Hey!" the barkeep spoke up. Chris stopped and turned around. "Could you at least tell me what you want with Julie? I mean, I don't think I could live with myself if I just gave Julie's address to a serial killer or something," the barkeep said, and laughed nervously. "Don't worry," Christina said. "We're not going to kill her intentionally, but she might have a heart attack when she sees us again." She smiled sweetly, and laid a five dollar bill on the bar. "Thanks," she said, and she sauntered out. Frank and Chris nodded at the bartender, and followed Christina out. * Alison got up early the next morning. She hadn't been able to sleep at all the night before, and Jamal had tossed and turned next to her, but they didn't speak. What was there to say? She was standing at the counter sipping coffee when Jamal came into the kitchen. It was appropriately rainy out this morning, and Alison stared absently out into the gray sky. "Hey," Jamal said softly, startling her. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. He patted the chair next to him, urging his wife to do the same. "She's going to be all right, Ali. She was born to do this," he said, trying to enstow some confidence in her. Alison sat down beside him, and he put his arm around her as she leaned into him. "I know that, Jamal. But so was her father, and look what happened to him." Jamal turned Alison's chin up to look him in the eyes. "Rafe is exactly who you need to keep in mind here, Ali," Jamal explained. "He's up there guarding you and Raven, and he is not going to let anything happen to his only daughter. I can tell you that now." Alison took a deep breath. In her heart, she knew that Rafe would take care of Raven, but it didn't make this any easier. Suddenly, the phone rang. Jamal answered it. "Hello?" "Hey, Jamal, it's Danny. Is Raven home?" Jamal's stomach thumped as he realized something. Danny didn't know yet. He didn't know anything.
*
Sascha felt bad about how she had treated her mother, but she tried to justify it in her mind. She had lied to her. Sascha tried not to think about her mother, instead, about what she wanted to ask her father. Her real father. As she thought, another idea came to her. Dad. What was Frank going to do when he came home? How was he going to take this? Then it occurred to her that he was just as guilty as Karen was in hiding the truth. What Sascha didn't know was that Frank had more secrets than just Ricky. Plenty more.
*