“Hi. I’m Harrison. I’m a friend of George’s,” I said, giving my most charming of smirks.
Joey was a blond woman, similar in some ways to Frankie. They shared the same heavy-lidded eyes and full lips. But there was an insincerity in her that rang a warning bell of learned instinct. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t interesting to look at, not like Frankie was. Frankie revealed a secret every time you looked at her: a soft beauty mark near her right eye, the cut of her jaw where it met her long, elegant neck when she twisted her hair up into a bun as she was doing now.
“And Frankie’s,” I added, realizing I was staring at her and brought my focus back to the screen.
Joey’s mouth fell open before she caught herself and fixed her hair over her shoulder, glancing discreetly at her own image on the screen. She flipped her hair back, and a slow smile spread over her features. “Of course I’ve heard of you, Harrison Evans. I didn’t know that you and Frankie werefriends.” She said the last word with a raise of a very sharp eyebrow.
“No. It’s not—Harrison is visiting George,“ Frankie stated.
A little quick to correct, in my opinion.
“I was about to say. Could you imagine?” Her sister made a wincing face.
I had the inexplicable urge to scoop Frankie into my arms and kiss her until her knees gave out.
Instead, I said, “Exactly. Frankie is way too good for a shirker like me.” Frankie had gone to wash her bowl in the sink, but even with her back to me, the tension in her shoulders was obvious.
“You’re an actress?” I asked, changing the subject. “Doing anything now?”
“Oh. It’s really nothing. Just until the next movie.” Joey lit up, obviously pleased to be talking about herself. “I’m touring with Chicago. Roxie Hart. The lead.” She added with a lick of her lips, as if I didn’t know that. “Broadway was just too … pedestrian. I love to see the country. I need to travel and meet the people. You know how it is.” She batted her lashes.
“Mommy, Harrison taught me to sing—”
“Shh, baby, the gown ups are talking,” Joey said, not taking her eyes off me except when they moved to the lower corner to check herself out.
If I had thought I wanted to punch that kid in Collette’s class (yes, in hindsight, I understand how awful that sounded), it was nothing compared to the anger that burst in my chest as I watched Collette’s eyes dim at being reprimanded. Frankie always gave Collette a chance to speak. The little girl’s ever-present smile fell off her face, and her tiny shoulders slumped.
Maybe I wasn’t hiding my rage as much as I thought because a moment later, Frankie was across the kitchen and tugging me out of the room.
“Why don’t Harrison and I let you two catch up,” Frankie said, calling over her shoulder.
“Oh, but—” Joey’s voice was cut off as the door swung shut behind us.
“I know how she comes off,” Frankie said when we were in the hallway. “But she’s actually … she’s trying her best. Things haven’t always been easy for her. She’s doing really well right now.”
I ran a hand over my mouth. I didn’t know the woman, but I was getting to know Frankie. If she felt the need to defend her sister, that was her choice.
It was bad enough when people treated me totally different when they learned who I was. I didn’t care about that, I was used to it. It only spoke to the content of her character, but to see Collette so excited to talk to her mother only to have her shot down. It made me furious.
“She has no idea the gift she has,” I said.
Frankie shrugged. “She’s her daughter. She will always be the most important person to her. Joey’s just finding her footing.”
I hadn’t been referring to Joey and her daughter—though that was true too. Collette was a miracle of a child, but I had been thinking that Joey didn’t understand what a gift her sister was. I wanted to tell her that she was more a mother than that woman ever would be. That Joey should kiss the ground that she found someone to raise her daughter with such care and tenderness. But it felt grossly out of line and would only upset Frankie, who defended her sister as only family could.
“Okay,” I said.
“Shecanbe a good person. She’s always been a lost soul,” she insisted when I must not have appeared sold.
“I’m not simple enough to see any person in black and white, good or bad. I know that if you care about her enough to protect her honor”—I scratched the back of my head—“then there must be somethinghonorable.” I shrugged.
She blinked up at me. Her mouth closed as she swallowed. “Your opinion of me can’t be that high already.”
“I’ve met a lot of people in my life, and none of them like you.”
“I-I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.” She huffed a laugh.
I stepped closer to her, my anger starting to dissipate. “It is,” I said.
