The Infamous Frankie Lorde 2, page 3
“Once the boas were trafficked into the country to become pets for the elite, it didn’t take long for the owners to realize they’d gotten themselves in over their heads. Most don’t realize how big they can get, how much the reptiles eat, and how dangerous they can be. So, when they did, they’d dispose of them. One of the ways they did this was by simply setting them free. The other was by killing them.”
“I may not be a fan of snakes,” Ollie said, glancing over at the boa that Kayla and I had just caged. “But just cutting it loose so it can slither into my house at night and eat my baby cousin? Uh-uh, no way. Unacceptable.”
“I agree,” Kayla said. “And not just because one of these could kill a small child. But two million of them later, we suddenly have a snake problem here in the US. And places like The Farm are asked to take them in.”
“Does that happen a lot?” I asked Kayla. “You getting stuck taking care of wild animals I mean?”
She paused. “Not really. But only because I usually say no,” she explained. “I do get more inquiries than you’d think, though. And to be honest, sometimes I wish I could—who wouldn’t want to see a white Bengal tiger up close and personal, am I right?”
“Um,” Ollie said as he raised his hand slowly.
“Well, for me it would be like crossing something off my bucket list,” Kayla continued. “But it wouldn’t be right. The exotic pet world is a whole different animal completely—pardon the pun. And while a few of my classes in vet school delved into that world, it wasn’t nearly enough for me to know what I’d be doing. And besides that, there has to be special housing, it’s super expensive to feed them, and the danger factor is off the charts. A big cat wouldn’t hesitate to rip your arm off in less than three seconds if given the chance.”
“I believe it,” Ollie said, narrowing his eyes at Geronimo, who’d wandered into the room while we’d been talking. “Cats definitely can’t be trusted.”
“You were asked to take care of a tiger?” I asked, ignoring Ollie’s comment. “Isn’t that sort of crazy? Like, who owns a tiger…in Connecticut?”
“It’s bonkers,” Kayla responded. “And yet, it happens. Quite a bit lately, too.”
My interest was piqued. “What do you mean?” I asked, the familiar feeling of excitement growing inside my stomach.
Kayla stopped what she was doing and looked around the inner sanctum as if to make sure we were the only ones there. Which, of course, we were. The secretive nature of this made me almost giddy with anticipation.
“A few months ago, someone from the FBI reached out to me because they’d came across a four-hundred-pound Bengal tiger when they raided someone’s home here in Greenwich,” Kayla said quietly, her face fully animated as she revealed the information. “Apparently this super wealthy guy had been keeping the tiger as a pet on his estate. But since he was being charged with, like, a dozen crimes, almost everything on his property was being seized and they needed someone to take in the animal.”
I swallowed hard as something about her story sounded familiar.
“I told them I couldn’t accept the animal—I don’t have the space or right enclosures, not to mention the training needed—but ended up connecting them with an exotic big cat rescue not too far from here,” Kayla said. “The agents wouldn’t give me a ton of details but from what I gathered, the cat had actually lived a pretty good life on the estate. He’d been well fed, was in good shape, and had quite a bit of land to roam on. But still…it’s a wild tiger who was being held in captivity. And the guy was a crook. So, it probably all worked out for the best.”
Halfway through her story, Ollie and I had slowly turned to glance at each other. I could see the look of horror and disbelief on his face and was pretty sure that mine mirrored his. Without saying anything, I knew we were both thinking the same thing.
“Huh,” I said coolly, as if I didn’t really care about any of it. Then I asked the question that made the mounting sickness begin to rise in my belly. “Whose tiger was it?”
The smile broke out over Kayla’s face. “That’s the best part,” she said. “It was Christian Miles’s.”
Entry Five
It was like all the wind had been knocked out of my chest.
Christian Miles?
The same Christian Miles that Ollie and I had plotted against and stolen a fair portion of his fortune from, in order to help the people he’d treated badly, all while party-crashing one of his galas a few months ago?
That guy?
The thought almost made me heave.
Not because I felt guilty for being responsible for him being arrested in the first place—that was a fact I was actually rather proud of.
As far as I was concerned, he’d made his billion-dollar jail-cell bed and now he deserved to lay in it.
The part I felt bad about was that there was an animal out there without a home or someone to care for it…because of me. And the truth was, of all the possible downsides I’d weighed before deciding whether to go after Miles, this hadn’t even made the list.
Still, an innocent animal being harmed in the process of me carrying out a job? That wasn’t okay. I might be a thief, but I do have a strict code of ethics I live by. And it was very clear on things like this.
I let out the breath I’d been holding in and closed my eyes tightly.
I knew what I had to do.
“What happened to the tiger?” I asked, my back still to Kayla and Ollie.
Somehow I had to make it right.
“Like I said, I put them in touch with the exotic animal rescue just out of town,” Kayla said. “It has such a cute name: Born to Be Wild. I met one of the gals who works there, Jessica, at an animal rescue conference in Miami a few years back. She was so sweet, and I remember being jealous that she got to work with the big cats every day.”
I filed away the rescue’s name in my memory, and vowed to check in on the tiger as soon as I could. I needed to know it was okay. That I hadn’t completely ruined the tiger’s life.
“How did the billionaire guy get the tiger in the first place?” I asked, needing to know more. “I’m assuming he couldn’t just go to his local pet shop.”
“No,” Kayla answered, laughing. “Definitely not. He probably bought it in an auction? Or more likely, through an exotic animal broker. Since it’s technically illegal to own a level one wild animal here in Connecticut, people have to keep things like that on the down-low.”
“So, make the broker take the tiger back,” Ollie said, shrugging.
“Wish it were that easy,” Kayla said. “Then again, if we knew who the brokers were, we might actually be able to make them pay for what they’re doing. Take down the broker, and you stop the smuggling of the animals in the first place, ending the abuse of these animals completely.”
Something inside me clicked.
“So, really, the bad guys are these brokers?” I asked. “Stop the supply and there is no demand.”
“In theory,” Kayla said. “But I’m no expert in this field, and don’t want to presume I have all the answers. I’m sure it’s much more complicated than that.”
I nodded as she talked, but I was already ten steps ahead.
“You think the brokers live here? In Greenwich?” I asked.
Kayla seemed to hesitate before answering.
“Obviously this stays between us—and I have no proof—but yeah, I think they’re in the area,” she said finally.
“Huh,” I said, thinking about this. “And you don’t have any guesses who it could be?”
Kayla looked at me sideways as she continued to move around the room.
“What’s with the sudden interest in the exotic?” she asked me. Her tone wasn’t accusatory, more curious.
I needed to tread lightly now. Too much prying would ensure she’d remember this conversation later. And depending on where things went from here, I might not want her to remember this at all.
I shrugged. “Ollie and I have to do research projects on a topic of interest within the area we’re volunteering in,” I said, thinking quickly. “I haven’t chosen mine yet and, well…you’ve kind of inspired me.”
The lie came out easily.
I’d had enough practice over the years that they usually did.
Ollie, however, had not.
“I’m doing mine on why dogs are superior to cats!” he yelled out suddenly, even though we hadn’t asked. When we both looked over at him, surprised by his outburst, his cheeks glowed red. “Just in case…you know…you wanted to know.”
Plastering a smile on my face, I turned to look at Kayla to see if she was buying any of it. Then I held my breath as I waited for her to respond.
Luckily, she was more trusting than I was.
“Great topics,” she said to us, playing along with the absurdity of Ollie’s outburst.
I let a beat go by before continuing.
“I just wish we knew who the brokers could be,” I said slowly. “It’d be a really great source…for my assignment.”
Kayla opened the door to the back of the barn, which led to a fenced-in area outside where the dogs and cats could roam around. The ground had been covered with fake grass to protect the animal’s sensitive paws and to give them the illusion that they had a nice outdoorsy area to play in. Unfortunately, the space was only about seven by ten feet.
Meaning: not very big.
Kayla had dreams of building a whole fresh air play area out there, complete with bridges, a pond, splash pad, hills, and toys galore. One of the walls in her tiny office had sketches and ideas taped all over it. It was like her real life Pinterest board.
She’d admitted to us that the only thing keeping her from doing it right now was money. As in, she didn’t have enough of it. The rescue ran on donations, and in a good year, the money covered all The Farm’s expenses.
Needless to say, there was never any extra cash lying around to put toward the animal play yard.
“Sorry, Frankie,” Kayla said, seeming like she meant it. “You know what I know now. Wish I could be more help.”
I shook my head. “No, this has been super helpful already, Kayla,” I said, the beginning of a plan forming. “Really. You have no idea.”
Kayla seemed to perk up at this.
Geronimo sauntered in between us then and rubbed up against my leg, purring loudly.
“Hi, girl,” I said, leaning down to twirl her tail around my fingers playfully.
Kayla watched us with a smile.
“You know,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and peering at me. “You’re really great with Geronimo. And you can tell she loves you, too.”
“She’s a cool cat,” I nodded, snapping my fingers so the furry feline would jump up onto the closest cat tower. When she obediently complied, I scratched behind her ears and then grinned as she stuck her butt straight up into the air with glee.
“Have you ever thought of taking on a rescue, Frankie?” Kayla asked.
The question caught me off guard.
I didn’t think I came off as someone who could be trusted to keep a pet alive, but I appreciated that Kayla thought so. Still, I immediately began shaking my head.
“Nah,” I answered, hoping it was enough.
It wasn’t.
“But you would make such a great cat parent!” Kayla continued pushing. “Especially to Geronimo here. You two have similar personalities, you know. You’re both sneaky and adventurous. You’re skeptical of people at first, but once you decide you can trust them, you’re loyal to the end.”
I was kind of shocked by how accurate her description of me was and wondered if maybe I’d underestimated her all this time.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Kayla, really. But trust me, I’m not your girl,” I said convincingly.
So then why did it feel so much like a lie when I fully believed what I was saying?
Kayla blinked. “Huh. Okay,” she said, taking in the resolve on my face. She threw her hands in the air in defeat. “That’s so weird. Maybe my radar is wonky today. I’m usually such a great judge of pet parents. But if you’re not a cat person, then you’re not a cat person….”
“Sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “Besides, my uncle already forbid me to bring home any strays. I guess that’s what regular kids do.”
“Now that I believe,” Kayla said with a laugh.
It was my turn to be surprised.
“You know my uncle?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Unfortunately, there are plenty of criminals out there who own pets.”
I was confused by her explanation at first, but finally got what she was saying.
“Ahhhh,” I said. “And when the criminals go away, the animals end up here.”
“Bingo,” Kayla said, placing her finger on the tip of her nose. “Your uncle has been to The Farm plenty of times over the years. I was always trying to convince him to get a dog, but he claims he doesn’t have the time to take care of one. Whether he’s lying to me or to himself, I’m not sure. But I can tell he’s lonely. I’d bet money that deep down he just wants someone to come home to at the end of the day.”
Then she flashed me a big smile.
“I suppose that person is you now!” she said happily, like it all worked out in the end.
I supposed it was.
Even though we didn’t mind being a part of a pack, the Lordes—at their core—were lone wolves. Uncle Scotty was no exception.
Although, I’d admit that I think he’d gotten used to having me around—maybe even enjoyed having me there most of the time—it’s not like it was the ideal living situation for any of us.
That would be Dad getting out of prison and us going on our merry way, and Uncle Scotty having his bachelor pad back.
I planned to talk to Dad about all this when I finally got to see him.
Which hopefully would be soon.
Entry Six
“I can’t believe this is finally happening!”
As soon as I’d told Ollie all about my conversation with my dad, he’d started dancing around me in what was his version of an end zone dance after a touchdown.
“You act like it’s happening to you!” I exclaimed, laughing and raising an eyebrow.
“It sort of is,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“What does me visiting my dad for the first time since he was arrested, have to do with you?”
“Um, because I finally get to meet the most notorious thief in the world?” said Ollie, like it was obvious. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—you’re good, but he’s a god.” I cocked my head to the side sympathetically.
“Sorry, Ollie,” I said gently. “It’s sort of a family-members-only kind of visit. I think even I might’ve been lucky to get to go—and I’m his daughter! Seems like they’re keeping his visitor’s list kind of light these days. Mainly just to his lawyers.”
Ollie’s face scrunched up. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and with all my knowledge on reading people, that wasn’t a good sign. I knew it was Ollie’s dream to meet my dad. For some reason he idolized him. And I didn’t want him to think that I was trying to take that chance away from him.
When I promised something, I kept my promise.
But it had been months since I’d seen my dad, and I really needed some one-on-one daddy/daughter time. How was I supposed to explain that to someone who didn’t have a dad that was currently locked away in prison?
“You understand, right?” I asked, not wanting to let down the only friend I had around here.
Ollie looked over at me for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes before bumping his hip into mine.
“Of course I understand, F,” he said. “But next time, I’m going. I don’t care if we have to say I’m your brother. I’ll be your brother from another mother. As Francis Ford Coppola is my witness, I will meet the infamous Tom Lorde.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Deal,” I promised as we continued on our way.
After a few steps in silence, Ollie cleared his throat.
“So…what are you going to say to him?” he asked. “I mean, there’s so much to catch him up on—me, for instance—and talking face-to-face is a whole different thing….”
He was right. And it was a good question. One that I’d been thinking about forever now. And one that I still didn’t have the answer to.
“Figured I’d just wing it,” I said, not exactly lying. I didn’t bother going into everything else I was thinking. I was sure Ollie didn’t really want to hear my weirdo thought process, and I didn’t really want to get into it. “I mean, it’s my dad. We never had trouble talking before, I doubt it’ll be hard now. I’ll just talk to him about, I don’t know, whatever… .”
Ollie looked doubtful. “Yeah, but you don’t think things will be different now that he’s been in the big house?”
“The big house?” I asked, my eyebrow raised. “What era are we in?”
“You know what I mean,” he said, brushing off my comment. “And stop avoiding my questions.”
“I’m not avoiding them,” I said uncomfortably.
But I was.
I let out a big breath.
“Look, of course things will be different. Just the fact that I haven’t seen him in so long is different,” I said carefully. “And I’m not dumb. I’ve seen prison shows. I know it’s not a trip to Disneyland in there. But it’s my dad. No matter what happens, he’ll always be the person who knows me best. He’ll always be my best friend.”
I said the last part quietly. Not because I was embarrassed that my dad was my best friend. I’d be proud to say that to anyone. He’s a cool dude. And I was pretty confident that when we were there in front of each other, it would be like we’d never been apart.
