“That must have been rough,” I say.
She narrows her eyes a little then widens them again, saying, “I’m not trying to say that I had a worse—I’m not trying to compare our situations.”
“I’m not saying you are,” I tell her. “I honestly think it must have been tough growing up the way you did.”
“It kind of was,” she says. “I know that must sound so stupid and out-of-touch coming from someone like me.”
“Not at all,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t want that kind of childhood.”
She’s looking at me with those narrowed eyes again, this time turning her head a little to the side. “If you don’t want me to talk about this, I don’t have to,” she says.
“No,” I tell her. “I like hearing you talk.”
“I never know when you’re being sarcastic,” she says.
“Really,” I laugh, “I’m being serious. What’s on your mind?”
“They’re leaving the country, you know,” she says. “They’re actually trying to skip town, state, and nation to avoid taking any kind of responsibility for what they’re doing, and you know what’s funny? I don’t really blame them. If I’d been committing stupid crimes as long as they have and suddenly it looked like everything might come out, I’d probably want to get the heck out of town, too. No offense,” she says.
I furrow my brow. “None taken,” I say, more a question than reassurance not knowing which part of that was supposed to have offended me. She was referencing Chris, but it’s not like I didn’t know my big brother gets into a lot more than his fair share of trouble.
“Have you talked to him?” she asks.
“No,” I answer. “He hasn’t called me and I haven’t called him. Honestly, I think he’s embarrassed or ashamed or something.”
“All the time I was growing up, I spent most of my time with the maids,” Ash says, returning to her original topic. “If it weren’t for them, I might have turned out more like my parents.”
“Eww,” I say, with an exaggerated shudder.
“Right?” she says. “Can you imagine what that w
ould be like?”
“Thanks to most of the people on reality TV shows, I can make a decent guess,” I answer.
She smiles.
“You know,” I tell her, “before I found out my girlfriend was in the slammer, I was on my way to talk to you.”
“Who’s your girlfriend?” she asks.
I try to exude the lack of being impressed, but I’m not so sure that’s how it’s coming across as Ash is now holding her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle laughter.
“What were you coming to talk to me about?” she asks.
“I wanted to tell you some things,” I answer. “Now’s not the time, though. Now, we need to figure out what we’re going to do about your situation.”
“Hey, we can work on a conspiracy charge,” she says. “Sounds like fun.”
“I didn’t mean we should plan a crime,” I say. “I mean we should figure out how we’re going to approach this.”
She lifts one eyebrow a little and the corners of her lips rise a little. “I have to tell you,” she says, “I like how you keep saying ‘we’ here.”
I smile back at her. “I kind of like you,” I tell her. “Don’t let that go to your head or anything, though.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she says and lets out a long sigh.
She takes a step toward me and opens her arms. I pull her into me and we embrace.