Page 270 of Remiss
Uncle Johnnie? Absolutely not.
Uncle Val? He’d come simply because of Daddy.
Uncle Christopher? He’d come for the same reason.
Grant? No.
Ryan? It was a crapshoot. Most days, he didn’t talk to her and could barely look at her.
CJ? Whose shoulder she wanted to cry on most of all and show him how sorry she was? Would he come if she called and told him she was stranded?
Her ringing phone startled her. Aunt Zoann’s name flashed across the screen. Harley answered immediately.
“Where are you, baby?” her aunt asked.
Hearing concern almost broke Harley. She shrugged.
“Harley?”
“I-I’m outside of Nardo’s house.” He’d warned her not to tell or she’d be sorry. “We had an argument and he put me out.”
“He’s not bringing you home?” Aunt Zoann asked in outrage.
“No.”
“Fine. Just go inside and wait. Someone will pick you up.”
Harley wouldn’t set foot in that house if she didn’t have to. “I’ll walk to the main road. I don’t want to talk to him anymore tonight.”
“Is there a restaurant you can wait at? Somewhere lit?”
“A few blocks from here.”
“Fuck. Hang tight, baby. I need to make a phone call—”
“Do you need something or were you just worried about me?”
“I got home and you weren’t here. That’s unusual, which is why I called. I wanted to make sure you were okay before I get to the hospital.”
Alarm raced through Harley. “Has something happened?”
Aunt Zoann didn’t speak for a moment, then she sighed. “Molly Harris was found.”
Tears rushed to Harley’s eyes. “I’m glad,” she said honestly. She sniffled. “Is she…”
“She’s bad off, Harley,” Aunt Zoann said in a thick voice. “She’s been shot, beaten, and God only knows what else.”
Harley felt sick to her stomach. “CJ and Ryan must be so relieved.” The words came from the heart, without resentment or anger.
“Harley?” Aunt Zoann asked after she allowed more silence to pass. “What’s the matter, baby?”
So much.
“Nothing.” She forced normality into her tone. “I’m tired and hungry. Nardo and I didn’t agree on our lines, and he put me out before we grabbed anything to eat.”
“The play is in five days,” Aunt Zoann said. “I thought you went to school for a fitting. Shouldn’t you also have the final version of your script?”
“I-I thought so, too. That’s why…that’s why we argued.”
