Read Good Girls Don't for Free Online Page B

when they wanted to talk, and be quiet when they wanted to remain quiet.
    “Amy?” Erika asked, reminding Amy that she’d been silent a few seconds too long in this conversation. “She’s okay with the alibi thing, right? I really don’t want my uncle knowing where I am; he’d freak. This is just another client for her, right?”
    Amy mustered up her courage. “Not exactly.”
    Erika opened the top dresser drawer and eyed her clothes, folded in neat little stacks. Then she turned to see Butch’s suitcase, with every stitch of clothing, primarily leather, piled on top. Sliding her hand beneath the bottom pair of jeans in her drawer, she found the pointed edge of an envelope and eased it free.
    Propping the phone in the crook of her neck, she sat on the bed. Then she carefully withdrew the paper from the envelope.
    “Erika?” Amy said on a huff. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”
    “No, to be honest, I didn’t. Tell me again.” She liked Amy, and she loved that she’d run into her in Atlanta. It’d been a long time since she’d been around someone who knew about her past, who understood where she came from.
    Amy had been her “big sister” at Sheldon High. When the middle-school kids prepared to move to high school, the faculty assigned a senior to help them learn the ropes. She had been blessed to meet Amy Campbell through that pairing. Even more because Amy had been there, and had truly cared, when her mother died.
    Erika unfolded the letter, scanning the words in her mother’s familiar curly script. She swallowed past the thickness in her throat.
    “Your uncle and my sister knew each other in Sheldon. I can’t believe we didn’t think about that possibility.”
    Erika blinked past her tears. “What did you say?”
    “They knew each other before.”
    Erika pulled her attention away from the letter, blinked a few more times, then forced her mind to concentrate on the implications of Amy’s news. Uncle Bill knew Colette Campbell. Okay, that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it? As long as they didn’t recognize each other’s voices on the phone, what would the harm be in . . .
    “Amy?”
    “Yeah?”
    “How did you find out that they knew each other?”
    “It wasn’t that hard. She called him, gave him her name—”
    “She uses her real name for My Alibi?” Erika asked, and the pieces clicked into place.
    “There’s no reason not to; none of her clients have known her before.”
    “Didn’t she recognize his name on the application?”
    Oh God, this wasn’t good. He’d never understand why she wanted a week with Butch. Uncle Bill had been adamant that she finish college first, before chasing after love, the way her mother did.
    She let her back fall to the bed and clutched the letter to her chest. Her mother had no regrets, and neither would she.
    As long as she didn’t hurt Uncle Bill.
    “I think she was paying more attention to the client information than the contact, particularly since you said he wouldn’t be home.”
    “He was home? She actually spoke to him? She was supposed to leave a message.” This couldn’t get any worse. Oh God, she’d promised her mother she’d be good for Uncle Bill. It was the last thing Erika had said to her before she died. But then, there was the letter. . . .
    “She would have, but he answered the phone.”
    Erika closed her eyes. This was not happening. It wasn’t. She’d followed her heart, just like her mother had said to do in her letter, and pursued true love. It was supposed to go perfectly. She’d spend a week with Butch, fall in love for life and maybe even come back with a ring on her finger. Wasn’t that the way love went?
    Admittedly, the first day with Butch left plenty to be desired. And now Uncle Bill knew? But if he knew, why hadn’t he called?
    “Did your sister tell him about me? The truth about where I am?”
    “No. In fact, she’s giving your case to another My Alibi representative today. That’s what I wanted to tell