Page 97 of Sinners Atone
It must have been taken in the nineties. A lazy summer memory, shot on film and sealed in glass.
If we were a normal family, I’d have picked it up and smiled. Poked fun of my mother’s over-plucked eyebrows and Finn’s spiky boy-band hair, before asking a million questions about when it was taken and why. But I don’t want to peel back the bark on our family tree; I want to chop it down. Cut it into logs and burn it.
Because looking at this photo of my mother hurts.
Finn’s chair groans beneath him, and the heat of his stare brushes up my back.
I turn around. “I thought you got rid of all the photos of her?”
He stares at the frame in my hands, running two fingers across his lips. “I did. Every photo except that one,” he murmurs, a sadness creeping in behind his glasses. “I had to keep that one.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “But why?”
He releases a slow breath and cocks his head, as if thinking of the best way to answer.
“Because,” he eventually says, “she reminds me to be the good in the world.”
My gaze falls back down to my mother. Calypso-blue eyes warm enough to light bonfires, a grin broad enough to bridge two oceans together.
As I put her back on the shelf, my comedown is violent.
Once upon a time, I made a vow to be the good in the world too.
If only it came naturally.
An hour later,I’m in my robe, cocooned in one of Finn’s Hermès blankets, being bad again. Though my morals have never extended to adhering to his strict rule about eating snacks on his cream sofas, anyway.
I shift, and the chip bag crinkles in my pocket.
Finn doesn’t look away from the TV, but his brows draw together, just like they do when he’s reviewing a contract he already suspects is dodgy.
“Do you want to tell me what that noise is,” he asks evenly, “or should I start cataloging evidence?”
I pretend I haven’t heard him, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on Elle Woods introducing herself to the Harvard admissions committee in a pink sequin bikini.
“Ridiculous,” he mutters, smoothing down the front of his slacks. “Harvard doesn’t even accept multimedia applications.”
I roll my eyes. Finn watches every movie like he’s cross-examining it for inconsistencies. Spine rigid, ears pricked. All he’s missing is his notebook.
“Legally Blondeis the greatest law film of all time.” I pop another chip into my mouth and gulp it down whole. The sharp edges catch the back of my throat, and I try not to cough. “So just shut up and enjoy it.”
The sound of my cell buzzing cuts his protest short. It buzzes again, and again, until the whole sofa is vibrating beneath me.
I flip it over on the armrest without looking at the screen and snuggle deeper beneath the blanket. I knew it was coming, because there’s no way Tayce would have read my vague text bailing on tonight’s plans and not put up a fight.
It’s Rafe Visconti’s poker party tonight. He holds it in Devil’s Hollow every year, deep within the caves beneath the town. Everyone on the Coast knows about it, and they’d pry the invite out of your cold, dead hands, given half the chance. Not that it’d be much use though, because rumor has it, the buy-in alone could clear a mortgage.
All the stories I’ve ever heard about it have been hand-me-downs. It’s always someone who knows someone who knows someone else, that’s worked at the event in some minor capacity. It’s the first time I’ve ever been invited, of course. And for free, at that. I guess there have to be some perks to your best friend marrying a Visconti.
I’ve been excited about it for weeks. I bought a new dress I couldn’t afford. Practiced my poker face in the mirror. I’ve daydreamed about locking eyes with a handsome gentleman across a velvet roulette table, and my arm brushing against his when he slides up to me later at the bar.
But recently, the suave man in my fantasy has distorted. Now he’s rougher, darker. He lurks in the shadows instead of sitting across the table. Locking eyes with him cuts, and if I were brave enough to brush against him, I’ve no doubt it would burn.
An electric shudder zaps through me. I pull the blanket over my mouth, and bite into a chip with a decisive chomp.
I told myself I’d be extra good from now on. I don’t know what that looks like anymore, only that it doesn’t look like spending an evening anywhere near the Boogeyman.
Another buzz. I ignore it again, but Finn doesn’t bother hiding his irritation this time. “You kids and your cell phones. If this were a movie theater, you’d be kicked out.”
