"Hey asshole."
Bill turned to Randi.
"You okay?"
"Better, but not okay."
"I don't know what to say, Randi. I ...
I don't know what I was."
"It wasn't all your fault, Bill. I fucked up too."
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"No. It was me. You don't know the whole story."
Randi sat on the wooden bench that bordered the veranda.
"Then tell me."
"Your sister, Francine, came to our apartment one day. She had some of your clothes."
Randi bit her lip.
"And she told you I was gay."
Bill nodded, silently.
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"And you couldn't handle the fact."
Bill sat alongside Randi.
"It wasn't that. It was all the other shit that she told me."
"What shit?"
"She told me that you were prostituting yourself and that you were doing drugs and partying all night.
I didn't want to believe it, but you know she can be so convincing and quite honestly, she scared me a little."
"Well Frankie always was a bully and some of what she said was true, but I never sold my body."
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
