Francesca let her car glide into the parking space at the library. Lucky. She didn’t even have to parallel park because there were two stalls in a row. She carefully locked her car, plugged the meter to the max, and headed for the computers. She wanted to get her “facts” lined up before they met. Not that she intended to lie any more than she had to. It was more a matter of adapting to the situation. Or maybe making him adapt.
She surfed in to Facebook and pulled up his page, or rather the guitar’s. Nothing much had changed in several days, not even the picture that had started the whole thing. The bit about his mother, a comment Fran could no longer quite remember, had only been visible for a moment. If she’d surfed into his page any other time she would never have known. He must have posted it, then deleted it immediately, but it was there long enough for her to make a guess and leave her comment.
And he’d taken the bait.
She wasn’t stupid about it. Not like when she was young and launched her singing career and did pretty much what ever she felt like. No, she’d studied up on him; hours spent with search engines like Google and carefully questioning people in town. A couple of girls at his school had proven very helpful.
A quick visit to the photo gallery wouldn’t hurt, so she clicked on it. There it was, the picture of him holding the guitar. No. THE guitar. The one the btch stole before he died. The one that was supposed to belong to Fran, that he had promised to her. Finally, she had a chance to get it back.
Lucky, lucky, lucky!
She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, and the guy at the computer next to her gave her a funny look. Well fck him. He didn’t know anything.
No new emails had come in, so the kid hadn’t cancelled. Fran had darkened her hair to make herself look more like him and had done what she could to look a bit younger. With only half an hour until they were supposed to meet at the capital rotunda, she logged off.
If only she could have asked him to bring the guitar with him. She thought about suggesting it, but he’d probably catch on too fast. Instead, she’d have to talk him into taking her to his place. She wouldn’t be able to steal it then, but at least she’d know what window to climb into while he was at school.
She ran down the library steps and crossed the street feeling better than she had in years. Once she had the guitar in her hands, everything would be better. That guitar was magic. Even if it weren’t worth a fortune just because he’d once owned it, it could turn her life around simply by having it.
The singing career that hadn’t worked out was about to take off! Lucky!
As she approached the capital building she noticed someone going up the steps ahead of her. The kid. It had to be the kid. He stopped at the top and turned around. No mistaking him. He looked exactly like his picture. Except for one little problem.
He wasn’t alone.
How unlucky.
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