text: I know it’s not ideal, but we have to be smart about this. It’s crisis time - the family is on the line here, Sarah.” The ball smacked the pavement with a noise like a gunshot, neon yellow fuzz fusing with the green paint of the court for a millisecond before bursting apart. It was a good shot, and Evan obviously expected her to let it go, but she’d been practicing her game and was able to counter with a pretty good backhand, sending it back over the net, where it bounced once, then twice against the court before landing neatly in a shrub. It was a Tuesday afternoon and the club was a trickle. A few mothers with their toddlers lounged at the pool and a slow stream of regular seniors, ears pressed low to the ground for gossip, haunted the tables around the bar. The courts were near-deserted save a rather haphazard game between an aging CEO and the sallow-faced son he was (unsuccessfully, if the chatterers were to believe) trying to groom. They weren’t exactly close by, but still Evan kept his voice low People were already talking enough. He made no move to chase the ball. There was always a pile handy, and he tossed one to Sarah with an attempt at a smile. “Your serve.” As Sarah lined up, bouncing the ball a few times in warm up, her brother continued. “I know it’s not ideal,” he repeated, in the familiar tone of one politely scolding a wayward child. She lobbed the ball over the net and he sent it back easily, “and dad is torn up about the way it’s all turning out, believe me.” His return was further to the right than she expected. It soared over the next court. She grabbed another. At 32, Evan was still more than 12 years Sarah’s senior, and this was the first time she had spent time with him alone in -well- ever maybe. The age gap had proven just one of many insurmountable obstacles to the pair’s sibling bond. She found him cold and manipulative (not unlike most of their family) and the lot of them thought her flighty and emotional. It was well into August and the sun was high and hot, it beat on the back of Sarah’s neck beneath her swinging ponytail. She set up for the next serve, determinedly not meeting her brother’s eye, though he was just as insistent at trying to catch hers. “Everyone’s been beside themselves, not being able to reach you.” “It’s your serve.” Evan was exasperated, but a furtive glance at the CEO and his son was enough to keep the game moving. A man used to people jumping at his every command, she could tell her lack of proper and respectful response was grating on him. For a few moments, they played in silence, listening to the sound of the revelers across the expanse of courts and the hollow sound of ball hitting pavement. He was here to find her, she knew. She’d been dodging her family’s calls and texts since the news broke, and the pitch of their desperation was steadily climbing. They’d known little about her life since she moved out, which luckily precluded them from showing up unannounced, but she’d kept the same tennis lesson every Tuesday since she was 11. When she’d finished up today, Evan had been waiting for her. She’d considered ducking out the back side -it wasn’t too difficult to make it over the shrubs if one was diligent- but then she couldn’t claim that she wasn’t avoiding them. A heart to heart -or whatever her family had in mind- was far from appealing either however. At first he’d insisted she come back to the house and she’d begged off, claiming an urgent appointment. The decision to start playing had been unspoken. Both knew the value of the game. She could have walked away. No one would have stopped her. But part of her had to know- Evan managed to swallow her silence, plowing on ahead unacknowledged, “We need to meet. All of us - and soon. Later tonight, if you’re available. It’s vital we get the details in order before things move forward. A group of workers, dressed all in pressed white, scurried by, collecting balls and old towels and offering fresh hot ones and iced drinks on trays rimmed with fruit as replacements. The pair lapsed into silence until after Evan had waved them away. Sarah was grateful for the time to think. Details in order? For the first time, she was off balance. “But I don’t know anything,” she blurted, low and fast, incredulous. This was true. As the accidental baby of the family by almost a decade, she had been alternatively doted upon, dismissed, and abused, but certainly never trusted with anything serious. The father and son had left, slouching in mutual disappointment, to be replaced by two women in their late middle-age with matching severe haircuts in shades that were not quite silver. “I know that,” Evan snarked, but immediately rearranged his features. He wanted something from her, she was sure of it now. She just didn’t know what. He was nothing if not cunning, however, and he wouldn’t risk it -whatever it was he wanted- by angering her. On some rare occasions, her reputation for a hair-trigger temper came in handy. “I know that,” once again with the repetition, his voice silk smooth, “you don’t need to.” He served with practiced nonchalance and they volleyed a few times. From the curious glances they were getting from the new arrivals, she guessed they’d noticed with whom they were sharing a court. But she was starting to get exasperated. An inkling of what game they were playing was forming, and it made her sick to her stomach. “Then why are you here? Why does it matter what my story is?” She thought he was here to tell her -maybe to warn her-. She should have known better. Evan was watching the eyes of their companions just as much as he was watching the ball. Sarah scored two more times. The naughty-child voice was back, “It doesn’t matter what you know, Sarah. It matters what you’ll say. Katie was subpoenaed last week and...” She smacked the ball, hard, in a move that did nothing for the game, but did succeed in again drawing the attention of the ladies across. Evan waved them away with a smile but his teeth were clenched. It was her serve again. The ball soared over the net. “You want me to lie.” This one was straight down the center and Evan followed up easily. He was trying to retain his composure, but the effort was starting to look strained, ugly. The ball hit the net, and instead of retrieving it she tossed her racket to the ground, where it landed loudly, and went to take a sip of water. She considered walking away, but her curiosity was still getting the better of her. He waited while she took several long sips, particularly as the two ladies were now as many owls, head constantly on the swivel to watch them. “Sarah- this is serious,” his whisper was a hiss, “if this, goes wrong - it could be the end of all of us.” He paused to take several deep, steadying breaths, “you don’t want Dad to go to jail, do you?” For many long moments, Sarah said nothing. “Is it true?” The question hung in the air for some time. He did not answer at first, either, the ladies were watching, talking loudly between wide-brimmed hats. Just like everything in her life, she hadn’t wanted to believe it at first- had argued and fought, certain the news was wrong. But in the silence Evan was losing his cool. His next words were icy, “What the hell does it matter if it’s true? This is business Sarah - and our family.” She let a ball bounce by her and didn’t move to grab another. “But people died, Evan.” His voice was blank, “People die every fucking day, Sarah.” “Yeah, but we didn’t kill them!” All pretense of the game was dropped now. Evan tossed down his racket and went for his water bottle. The last of hers had been loud and the two ladies had also abandoned their game to watch as the pair as though spectators in a sporting event. Her brother’s regard for them was cold, but their attention instantly put him back together. “I can see you’re obviously not mature enough to handle this like an adult. Dad will be in touch to try to get you to see reason.” As collected her windbreaker and the case for her own racket, the man was already walking away from her. But there was one more thing she had to know, “And Brandon?” she called after him. The look Evan gave her, turning back, was solid steel, “Brandon will do what it takes to protect the family.” Something, slowly, was dawning on her. He was almost out of earshot. “You’re...,” her voice was low, pained, but he caught it anyway “This was... this was the plan.” It caught in her throat, “You’re going to let him take the fall.” Evan turned back to give her one last look, cold as steel. “Brandon will do what it takes to protect the family - it’s a lesson you’d do well to learn” Evan waved at the ladies as he passed, all politician’s smile once again.. Sarah slowly and carefully collected her own things, rubbing her racket down with a towel and then zipping it into its case. As she drove home that night, in a car that wasn’t hers to a life bought and paid for, it would be with the overwhelming feeling of threads coming apart. But maybe, just maybe, that meant one day she would be free.