“My god,” he whispers.
I peek up at his face. “Do you want to hear more, or have I totally bummed you out?”
“I want to know everything.”
“After a while on kitchen duty, which meant I cleaned what they told me to clean, one of the older ladies got me a job in the laundry. It wasn’t glamourous, but it was better than sweeping up roaches and keeping rats out of the pantry. I folded sheets and sewed them when they ripped. I got really good at it. One day, I added my initials onto my favorite shirt so no one would want to steal it. A few people saw it and asked me to do the same to their belongings.”
“You didn’t have to wear jumpsuits or whatever?”
“For the most part, we could wear approved street clothes. For months, I wore the jail-issued gray uniform with elastic pants until I could afford to buy a few T-shirts from the commissary.”
“That’s where you learned how to sew.”
“Yup.”
“And there was a store there?”
“Not like any you’re familiar with. Everything was behind a counter, and you had to ask for it. But you could buy things like food, toiletries, certain arts and crafts supplies, envelopes and stamps, stuff like that. We all had an ID we had to carry with us to make purchases. We also used it to go to the gym or participate in programs.”
“So it was like high school?”
I giggle, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve ever laughed thinking about my life back then.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“You said you sewed your initials on your shirt. Your initials are DD. The woman at Home Depot called you DeeDee. Did you know her?”
I sigh. “Her name is Delta Brown. She worked as a food server, one of the better jobs in the kitchen.” I look into his eyes. “I’m sorry I lied.”
He pushes some hair out of my eyes. “You don’t have to anymore. Now you can work here for real. We can add you as an employee, and you’ll get paid.”
I roll off his chest and gaze at the ceiling. “I don’t want anyone else to know, Aaron. They’d hate me.”
“They know about me and don’t hate me.”
“That’s different. Plus, you’re related. Please don’t tell them.”
He rises on an elbow. “It looks like we have lots of secrets we have to keep.”
“If it’s too much—”
“It’s not.” He pulls me close. “It’s all going to work out, Dev.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks so.”
“Can I ask you another question?”
I close my eyes. “I think I’m about spent.”
“This one is easy.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“I’m curious. What’s the first thing you bought after you got out?”
“Gum.”
“That’s not the answer I was expecting. Cheeseburger, maybe.”
“I always loved gum. It was almost like an addiction for me. But in jail, you can’t have it, because it can be used to jam locks. So after I got out, I went to the first convenience store I could find and bought a pack. I would have preferred a cheeseburger, but I couldn’t afford one.”
“What did you do? Where did you go?”
“You said one more question.”
“Right. That’s a story for another day. How about we make dinner? For some reason, I’m craving cheeseburgers.”
“That sounds great,” I say. He moves to get up, and I quickly wrap my arms around his bare chest from behind. “I’m happy for you, Aaron. You and the Marshalls, and everything you’re doing in Cameron’s memory.”
He turns and nods. I’ll bet he wishes he could say the same thing about me.
Chapter Thirty-one
Aaron
Quinn helps me unload bags of cement mix by my cabin. “You going to tell me why you feel you have to do this yesterday?” he asks.
“I want her to move in with me. I figure the cabin will be more appealing if it has more space.”
He laughs. “You mean more appealing than the ten-by-ten bedroom she’s currently sleeping in? Dude, your place is already like a castle compared to that.”
“It’s overdue for an upgrade. Thanks for helping me out.”
“Don’t have anything better to do.”
“Nothing better to do, eh? What about flight school? That whole thing blow over?”
“Oh, I’m doing it. It’s just that there’s a lot of shit to do. You can’t just walk up to someone and have them teach you how to fly. Plus, I’ve been thinking, and I’m not sure it makes sense to get a pilot’s license for both planes and helicopters. There’s so much more you could do with helicopters, and with a large enough one, you could still offer the VIP transport from the airport. It’ll be faster and cheaper to concentrate on that.”
I laugh, still not believing a word of it. Quinn has had crazy ideas before. Like taking up bronc riding. I play along, as usual. “Whatever you say.”
A Range Rover pulls up the driveway.
“Fuck,” he says, slinging the last bag on the pile.
Karen Thompson gets out of the driver’s seat and walks over, turning her nose up at the dirt piles that might ruin her white linen pants.
“What are you doing here?” Quinn asks.
“If you’d answer my calls, I wouldn’t have to track you down.”
“If you weren’t such a bitch, I’d answer your calls.”
Her jaw goes slack. Then her eyes blaze. “Is that any way to speak to your mother?”
“Maybe if you acted like one occasionally. Listen, is there a point to this little reunion?”
“You’ve probably heard that your uncle was denied parole.”
“Yup. Cracked a beer to celebrate.”
She steps forward and jabs a finger in his chest. “You may not like the family you were born into, but we’re still your family. You have obligations. Things you need to do to earn your trust fund.”
“It doesn’t come with strings. It’s mine fair and square. I’m of age and have full control over it. You haven’t been able to tell me what to do or when to do it for quite a while.”
“You’re wrong, Quinn. You’re a Thompson. That money was made by your grandfather. He expected great things from you.”
“And by great things, you mean fucking over other people, like Aaron and his family?”
She eyes me up and down like I’m an inconvenience. “If it weren’t for his family, Jon wouldn’t be in prison.”
Quinn laughs. “If it weren’t for Jon, Jon wouldn’t be in prison. How obtuse can you be, Mother?”
“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you. He wants to see you.”
“Who?”
“Uncle Jon.”
He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh.”
“It’s not a request.”
“Like I said, you have no control over me. If you want to order someone around, go home and bark commands at your housekeeper.”