Page 18 of Bourbon and Secrets

As he shakes my hand, I try not to think about how they’re the same fingers that were splayed acrossherback. The same hand that glided along her skin. “So much more than what you would expect,” Blackstone answers. “My private auction, specifically, might interest the both of you. I’ve acquired...” He pauses curiously. “Very beautiful things. And many more that are useful to businessmen in multiple arenas.”

He looks around the room. “Speaking of, where did that gorgeous thing flitter off to? Will you excuse me?”

I toss back the rest of my Manhattan and watch as he meanders toward the bar. Ace stands next to me, drinking his bourbon. “Interesting crowd here tonight, don’t you think?”

I give him the side-eye. “The entertainment included?”

He lets out a laugh and takes another sip. “She looks...different.”

And just like I had done a handful of years ago, I lie to my brother again about the same person when I say, “I didn’t notice.”

Chapter 7

Faye

A passing windchills my arms and legs like I left a window open or fell asleep outside.Shit.The whispering of quiet voices is what wakes me. I’m immediately assaulted by the sizzle of pop rocks and the smell of sugary cherries. Before I squint an eye open, I listen. My neck is stiff and crooked sideways, while my head barely holds on to the throw pillow I stuffed under it.

“She has diamonds on the corners of her eyes,” I hear in a shouted whisper. “Lark, how did she get diamonds on her face like that? It must be glue, right?”

It’s been a handful of days since that first night at Midnight Proof. I’ve done two more shows since and find comfort in the late nights that I’ve gotten used to keeping. Luckily, there haven’t been more surprise appearances from anyone with the last name Foxx. But I can’t figure out why I’m not more relieved.

The porch swing sways and dips as the saccharine smell gets closer.Damn, it’s cold.Even on the enclosed porch. I didn’t plan to sleep out here, but I sat down, needing to clear myhead after last night’s show. I’d been thinking too hard about seeing Lincoln Foxx again—I don’t know why I had assumed it wouldn’t matter. I took his threat all those years ago seriously, and it had left me angry. But if I’m being honest with myself, it was an out. I don’t know how I could have stayed and pretended like everything was fine after what happened that night. How would I have stuck to my plans and built a life where my perfect blueprints had become so diluted and smudged?

So, I was reeling about all that mess that is my life, why I cared that he hadn’t come to another show, and then fell asleep. Now I shiver as the crisp morning air licks at my skin, goosebumps raising along my bare arms.Where’s the blanket I had wrapped around me?

“She has tattoos on her arm. Almost all the way up to her shoulder,” a quiet voice says. I feel the lightest touch of a finger tracing the vine and flowers that wrap around my arm. “So pretty,” she whispers to herself. Then she whisper-shouts, “LARK.”

I open my eyes to look at the human alarm clock. Her head is turned toward the front of the house, so she doesn’t see me watching her. Her dirty-blonde curly hair is a stark contrast to the color of her father’s. I hadn’t realized that time would make them older too, but it isn’t hard to recognize her as the youngest of Lincoln’s girls. “Lark, come see the diamonds.”

“They’re rhinestones,” I say, sounding groggier than expected.

She yelps and the packet of pop rocks explodes over the both of us as the porch swing sways haphazardly. Gripping onto my arms, she keeps herself from falling butt first onto the porch floor. “Crocs and rocks, lady. You scared the sparkle right out of me.”

It’s well past sunrise, but it’s cold. Kentucky seasons like to play in the extremes. Summers are humid and balmy, whilewinters love to lay a shock to the system. This morning has a bite to it.

My voice sounds like I swallowed gravel when I ask, “Good. Who are you? And what are you doing on my porch?”

She stands up, and her bright pink puffy coat practically blinds me. “My name is Lily Bernice Foxx,” she says with all the attitude she can conjure.

It’s not bad enough that he lives across the street, but his spawn is nosy. I forgot that Fiasco’s like this—minimal personal boundaries disguised as warm welcomes.

“And this is Maggie’s porch.”

A suctioning empty sound echoes around the porch, coming from the cup that looks an awful lot like mine gripped in the other blonde’s hands. “Did you just drink my water?”

The girl smiles, and instead of saying anything in response, she looks at the front door and walks right into the house.

I glance back at Lily, who’s looking at a palm full of small rocks. “You two realize this isn’t your house, right?”

Lark comes back out, the screen door opening wide and slamming shut behind her, before she hands me a new glass of water.

Lily perches on the railing. “You’re Maggie’s sister.”

“Faye Rose Calloway,” I answer with my full name, just like she did. Stretching my arms up above my head, I try to break free from the haze of sleep. It isn’t the first time I’ve fallen asleep on the porch swing since I’ve been here, but it’s the first time I didn’t wake up and go inside. This spot had been one of my mom’s favorite places—Maggie and I would doze with her out here on lazy Sundays in the summers when it was just the three of us. That feels like a lifetime ago now.

Lily gasps and whispers my middle name to herself, “Rose.”

“I remember you,” Lark says while side-eyeing her sister. Perched on the porch railing, the girl emanates all the Foxxfeatures—blue eyes, confident stature, a small divot on her chin and a scowl that looks eerily familiar. Her hair color and paler skin must be from her mother’s side. I follow her line of sight out into the rows of corn. “Cool t-shirt, by the way,” she says.

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