Frankie was bawling by the time we got to her.  She didn’t hide her grief and that had always made it easier for me to express mine.

“He was just the nicest,” she began.  “I’ve thought about this a lot.  I spent so much time with him.  We had a lot of fun together.  And in all of that time, I can’t ever remember him saying one negative thing about anybody.  How is that even possible?  He was just so good.  I miss being around him.  I miss his smiling face, and how he’d come to me when he needed help solving a problem, no matter how silly the problem.  To Jared, the sweetest angel in heaven.”  She took a big bite of her cookie, like it was a toast.  You had to get creative around alcoholics like me.

I held up my cookie like a toast, then took a big bite.

I hadn’t expected Danika to say anything, I don’t know why, but of course, she did.  She’d always had a way with words, a way to shape them into something that could bring me comfort.

Her mouth quirked up in a half smile before she began.  “He used to call me sis.  I loved that so much.  And I loved talking to him on the phone.  For hours.  He was the best talker.  And listener.”  She bent down and reached into her bag, pulling out a flip phone.  The thing was a relic.

Her smile died, turning into the face she made when she was trying hard not to cry.  “This thing can’t keep a charge for ten minutes, but I’ll never get rid of it.  I didn’t find this until after he passed.”

She pushed some buttons, and then the sound of Jared’s voice came out of the phone.  “Hey sis.  I know you’re upset with him, but trust me when I tell you he regrets everything he said.  Just give me a call.  We’ll talk it out, okay?  The Vega brothers love you, sis.  Never doubt it.”

That one gutted the room, and no one talked for a long while.  Even with the way it’d hurt, it’d still felt so damn good to hear his voice.

“Remember that night he and I got completely blitzed at the sportsbook in the Cavendish casino?” Danika finally spoke to say.  “We had so much fun.  He was always so much fun.”

Frankie smiled, mascara trails all over he pretty face.  “I remember that night.  You were off with Jared, while Tristan and I complained, for hours, about how crazy women are.  Your name might have come up a time or two, in the crazy column.”

She rolled her eyes.  “I’m sure I took up most of the crazy column.  Hell, I probably had my own page.”

I’d pieced together every video ever taken of Jared years ago.  There were only a few of us as kids, but thank God there had been several years worth of camera phones before he’d passed.  That made up the bulk of it.  We watched them all, then told some more stories.

It was a good day of remembering.  It hurt, sure, it would never stop hurting, but it was better with her there.  Everything was.

I’d missed a few calls over the hours we’d been reminiscing and had a few messages.  I grimaced when I saw that one was from Mona, and I almost just erased it.  I’d gotten her contracted to another act in two months, and she was not happy about it.  But she’d been acting strange since Danika and I had gotten back together, and it made me realize not to trust her, to in fact keep my distance, and that’s what I was doing.

Still, I listened to it, because it was unusual for her to leave a message.  I was a little stunned at what I heard.  And sad.  What were the odds, on today of all days?

I went to sit back with the group.  “Tony Biello just died,” I said numbly.  I knew the numbness wouldn’t last.  He’d been a mentor to me, a father figure.  He’d been scheduled to make a guest appearance in a few weeks.  “I guess I shouldn’t be this shocked.  He retired his act because his health was bad.”

Danika hugged me hard.  I’d never talked to her about Tony, but I had a feeling she knew everything.  She’d been more secretive about it than I had, but we’d both been keeping tabs on each other over the years.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DANIKA

I showed up at his house already dressed in a conservative black sheath dress, my hair pulled back in a chignon, my makeup neutral and soft.  I was in full funeral mode.

I didn’t want to go.

I felt bad about it, but I still didn’t feel right about going.  Mona always tried to be pleasant, but her father had just died, she had to be hurting, and I just didn’t think she’d want me to be there.

I searched for the words to explain this to Tristan without sounding like an insensitive jerk about the whole thing.  He knew I didn’t like Mona.

As though to pre-empt my attack of the flake-outs, he came to the door just shrugging into his dress shirt.  It was still unbuttoned, and I ran my hand over his bare skin.  The crisp white against his tanned, tatted skin was just too delicious not to touch.

He caught my hand and pulled me inside his house, and then tight against him, kissing my forehead.  “Thank you for coming to this.  It means a lot to me to have you with me right now, and I know you don’t like Mona, so I’m doubly grateful that you’re willing to do this.”

I hugged him hard, feeling like a royal bitch for even considering backing out.  And for being so obvious about disliking Mona.  She’d really done nothing to earn it, aside from sleeping with a man I wasn’t speaking to at the time. (Logic meet feelings.  The two of you will never see eye to eye.  Let the lifelong catfight commence.)