Chapter 24 #2
Knowing that he remembered me telling him that has me offering him a smile. “That’s right.”
“Okay,” Pete says, tapping my list to get us back on track. “So those two are forms of black, and The Raven is obviously a black bird.”
A small gasp escapes me the second he says it.
“What’s wrong?” Sly asks, leaning forward to get a better look at my face, just as the waitress arrives with our meals. I stay silent as she passes out our plates, but inside my mind is practically screaming. Jagger and Sly each hold a thigh, grounding me as my mind spirals in disbelief.
The second she steps away, they all lean toward me. “What is it?” Sly asks. “You’ve figured something else out.”
“Do you remember me telling you that Robert and I have different last names?” I ask, and they all nod. “In our family, it was tradition for the daughters to take their mother’s maiden name, and the sons to take the father’s. So I’m Wren Rivers, but he is Robert Blackburn.”
Saying it out loud, it sounds so much like black bird; it sends goosebumps down my arms. The worst part is that I don't think it’s a coincidence. I ask Jagger for the phone and pull up the map.
“Ok, so this is Bracken Hill,” I say, pointing to a town on the map. “This is Brookstead,” I say, pointing to another. “This one is Greybridge, and over here is Sunnyvale.”
Then I point to the town located directly in the center of them all. “And here, in the middle, is Iron Springs. That’s where I live. Well, where I used to live.”
“Fuck,” Sly whispers, his gaze moving from my phone to my written list. “He’s been hiding under all these different names this whole time. With a territory like this, he must be one of the biggest mafia heads in the entire country.”
“He was building his empire right under everyone's nose,” Pete says, shaking his head in disgust.
Everyone’s quiet as we absorb the information that I’ve been living with some sort of mafia kingpin. Suddenly realizing their food is in front of them, Dex and Pete start eating, and Sly gestures to my plate.
“Eat up, we’ll talk more about this afterward when we’re in the SUV.” I nod and look down at my plate.
The eggs Benedict looks delicious. I’ve always wanted to try it, and I don’t want Robert to ruin them for me, so I try to shake thoughts of him from my head as I slice into the first egg, and the yolk oozes beautifully down the plate.
I grin happily as I cut off a piece and pop it in my mouth, moaning loudly at the deliciousness of it.
I open my eyes and find four pairs of heated ones staring back at me. “Sorry, it’s just… I’ve been making this for years and never tried it before.” That was the wrong thing to say. Their heated eyes turn angry, and I duck my head, deciding to ignore them and enjoy my food instead.
Between the chocolate milk and the eggs Benedict, it’s easily the best meal I’ve ever had. So when we get back into the SUV, despite the heavy topic floating between us, I’m not feeling too worried. I guess good food could fix anything.
When we pull onto the road, Pete is the first to speak. “Is it really possible that her brother is responsible for putting all of us away?”
It’s shocking to know they have all been connected to my brother this entire time. I can’t believe I never realized— “Holy mother of muffins!” I exclaim as realization dawns on me.
Dex laughs. “Did you just say mother of muffins?”
I frown at him as I explain, “Women don’t swear…” My eyes take in their pitying ones, and I realize it’s another thing that I was lied to about. “I was taught they don’t anyway. So I had to get… creative.”
“I’ve heard you swear in other languages,” Sly says observantly.
I nod. “Sometimes I could get away with it if Robert didn’t speak the language or if I convinced him I was just practicing.”
“What were you going to tell us before Dex rudely interrupted?” Sly asks, giving my hand a squeeze.
Dex narrows his eyes on Sly, but I ignore it as I explain. “Did you guys ever wonder how I got your names and address in the first place? When I first wrote to you?”
“You told me you thought it was like a big sister program,” Pete says from behind the wheel.
“But isn’t it strange that I found a list with your four names listed on it? And nobody else’s?”
“I guess I never thought about it from your end,” Sly says as he looks out the front window in concentration.
“I thought it was just a simple mistake, and once you realized, you’d stop writing to us.
” He looks down at me, and a barest hint of a smile touches his lips.
It’s the closest I’ve seen to a smile from him yet. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Me too.” I squeeze his hand as Jagger starts signing from my other side.
“How did you get our names?” I read his signed question aloud.
“My brother said there was a list of the foster kids in the program on his desk. I may have accidentally knocked everything onto the floor, and one page with your names on it slid out and caught my attention.”
“Did it say anything other than our names?” Sly asks.
“Just one line. Something like Sylvester Romano, Peter Montgomery, Dexter Sutherland, and Jason Hayes are all now permanently residing at Stoney Creek R.C., with the address underneath. You already know I thought R.C. meant Recreation Center, not Rehabilitation Center.” My cheeks heat from that embarrassment all over again.
I remember my jaw dropping open when I opened that first return letter to see it had been from a prison inmate and not an eight-year-old foster kid.
Wren,
Gotta say, your letter made my week. People often mistake me for looking younger than I am, but mistaken for a kid? That’s a first.
I’m sure if you saw my impressive stature in person, you’d agree I’m ALL man.
I’m thirty, by the way, and a convicted felon.
Not sure if that makes me your big brother, or if you’ll never write to me again, but either way, at least I got one letter from you.
Nobody writes to me or visits. Prison pretty much sucks, especially when I was falsely convicted. But what’s a guy to do?
At least my cellmates aren’t total twat-waffles. Except maybe Sly. He always looks like he’s just sucked on a lemon. Sometimes I say things just to get a reaction from him. It’s the best sort of entertainment I can hope for in here.
You can still give me life advice if you want, though. I could use some tips on how to keep myself from going crazy or how to survive without Netflix.
You asked what I like to do for fun. I used to like working with animals. I worked on a farm for a few years, and it was the first time I’d felt peace. You know exactly what an animal is thinking, they don’t pretend to be anything other than what they are.
Tell me, Wren. Do you have any pets? A pretty white pussy, perhaps?
After reading this, I’m sure you’ll never write again, but in case you do, can you tell me what you do for fun? Or anything about you. Literally. I’m starved for entertainment, in case you couldn’t tell.
Counting how many pull-ups Dex can do or how many times I can make Sly roll his eyes gets boring after a while, you know?
Looking forward to your next letter, Big Sister.
You’ve got my curiosity doing laps around this tiny cell.
Pete