“I’ll make sure he knows. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the savings,” the agent said, and he pulled away from the building.
“Frankie?” I questioned after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Even Mya wasn’t chattering. Although, after this morning, she hasn’t chattered much at all.
“It’s a good location,” Frankie said. “I’ll rebuild here.”
“What about Mark?”
“Mark will have his freedom,” Frankie said. “He can move wherever he wants.”
“Frankie . . .”
“Don’t,” he said. “Just . . . don’t.”
* * *
Two days later there was still no word about my attacker. Remy kept his distance and so did David. Now that I think about it, so did everyone. I was trapped with a moody Frankie and a weepy, tired Mya. Her mood swings were nearly as pronounced as Frankie’s. It didn’t help that Mya’s stomach was still troubling her.
I had an idea why.
Mya was sitting at a folding table when I dropped a bag in front of her. She glanced at it. “What is it?” she asked.
“Don’t ask; just do,” I said.
With a lost expression, she peeked inside the bag and then squeaked. Her eyes rounded. “Do you think . . .?”
“Yes. I think.”
With shaky hands she took the bag and headed to the bathroom. She returned later with an open mouth, her hands tightly clenching a pregnancy stick.
“Congratulations,” I said, watching as her mouth stumbled for words.
“I-I can’t believe it.”
“You know that’s what can happen when you have sex with your husband, right?” I asked with a teasing voice.
She tossed me an exasperated look before falling into a chair. “I just didn’t expect it so soon.”
“You were trying?”
She nodded. “Well, we were thinking of trying and so I stopped taking my pills. Oh my God, I didn’t tell David I stopped. What is he going to say?”
“Nothing,” I said. When her face fell, I added, “He’ll be too busy kissing you senseless to say anything.”
She rubbed her hand over her abdomen. “I can’t believe it.”
“You should call him.”
“No,” she shook her head adamantly. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Are you sure? Because I think it might.”
“No. And you have to promise not to tell him.”
I eyed the stubborn line of her jaw and gave a nod. “I promise. But you have to tell him soon.”
“I will.”
That was enough of a promise for me. I wasn’t going to stick my nose in only to get it swatted.
“What’s going on?” Frankie mumbled as he stumbled out of the bedroom. His red-rimmed eyes targeted the dwindling stash of wine.
“Don’t you dare,” I said.
“I was just going to have one.”
“Frankie, why don’t you just call him?” I pleaded. “You’re miserable and I know he is too.”
“Oh?” Frankie’s glared at me. “And how would you know that?”
“I was there when he left your apartment.” With Gus. Oh, crap! I forgot to check on Gus. I’ll check on them both later today. “I know he’s just as miserable as you are, maybe more. Just talk to him and work this out.”
“No. If he wants to leave, then let him.”
God, give me strength, I thought as I watched both Mya and Frankie wilt in their chairs. Hell, I’d even ask my dark spirits for strength just to get me through the day without strangling the two mopey, love-sick buffoons.
“I have an idea,” I said, dragging their attention. “Why don’t we go ahead and perform at Celebrity Mash?”
They both mumbled despondently.
“Well?” I asked. “It will get us out of the apartment and we already know the steps.”
“We’re one person short,” Frankie said.
“That’s okay. You can just switch it up a little.”
“It was supposed to be a duet,” he argued.
“And now it’s a solo. You’ll be the star.”
“What if I throw up?” Mya asked, rubbing her stomach.
“That’s what this is for,” I said, handing her a second bag filled with prenatal vitamins, ginger chews, peppermint tea, and pregnancy lollipops.
“Oh!” she exclaimed in happy surprise right before she hugged the bag and burst into tears.
“Did I miss something?” Frankie asked.
Between sobs, she gasped, “I’m pregnant!”
“Oh!” He popped out of his chair, springing over to hug her and falling victim to his own sobbing. “Congratulations!” he bawled. Fat crocodile tears streamed down each of their faces.
I sat immobile, helplessly watching the display.
After the last of the tears and hiccups subsided, I said, “So, how about that song? We could use a reason to get out and live a little.”
Frankie nodded. “I could use a break.”
“So could I,” Mya said, popping a lollipop into her mouth and rubbing her belly. “Just don’t make me do the shimmy part.”
“No, we’ll keep it simple,” Frankie said with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle!” An odd smile brewed on his lips.
“You’re thinking of matching sailor suits, aren’t you?” I asked.
“How did you know?” His brows flew up as if he didn’t know he was so completely obvious. “You’re scary. You know that, right?”
* * *
“And one and two . . . sashay! Three and four . . . magic hands!”
“Hang on!” Mya shrieked as she ran for the bathroom.
Frankie stopped with his hands on his hips. Turning to me, he said, “I don’t think this is going to work. She’s getting worse.”
I had to admit he was right. Mya threw up at the slightest provocation. Any time she ate, moved, smelled, or any variable in between, sent her flying to the bathroom.
“She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Hopefully he can suggest something to help her stomach. Otherwise, I’m afraid she’s just going to have to wait it out.”
“That doesn’t help our performance tonight,” he said.
“Let’s keep going with the plan. She can back out at the last minute if she wants to. If nothing else, it will keep her mind focused on other things,” I said.
“At least with the new dance moves we can be another person down and it won’t matter. It may just be you and me on stage,” he said.
“I won’t mind.”
He smiled. “Neither will I.”
We jumped when the door was pounded on so forcefully the walls shook.
Frankie and I looked at each other and groaned, “Muffin.”
“Should we let her in?” he asked.
“Let’s pretend we’re not here.”
“I heard that!” Muffin yelled. “Don’t make me break the door again!”
We both sighed. Frankie jogged to the door and opened it for her. She bulldozed in and dropped heavily into an inflatable chair. Frankie and I braced for an explosion. Thankfully, the chair held up.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“Is that any way to treat the person who saved your life?” Muffin asked. “Do you have any snacks? I’ve been all over town and bear is hungry.”
“I have a bag of veggie chips,” Frankie said.
She grimaced. I wasn’t too thrilled with the snack options either. Living with Mark, even the short time, had Frankie eating all sorts of healthy snack options he wouldn’t have tolerated before.
“Never mind,” she said, popping a lollipop into her mouth. “I’ll just have this.”
“Muffin! That’s one of Mya’s pregnancy lollipops.”
“Oh,” she said, popping it out of her mouth to inspect it and then sticking it back in. “It ain’t half bad. She’s pregnant?”
“Yes. But it’s a secret for now,” I said.
“No worries. I’ll stay as silent as the
grave. So, where am I sleeping?”
Frankie and I exchanged worried glances.
“What happened to Piñata?” I asked.
She shrugged and slurped on the lollipop. “I don’t know. We were staying at a motel until we could find a place. He stepped out yesterday and never came back. It’s too bad. I thought he might be a keeper. Normally I don’t like my husbands crowding my bedroom, but he gave it to me like a soldier going to battle.”
Frankie and I winced. I had already heard him giving it to her like a “soldier going to battle.” I didn’t want to envision it as well.
“I’m sorry he’s gone,” I said. But good for him, I added silently. Too bad he didn’t receive battle pay. “You’ll have to find a different place to stay, though. We don’t have room. As it is, we’re sleeping like sardines.”
She popped the lollipop out and stared at me. “Are you saying you can’t help out the person who saved your life?”
“It’s not that,” I said, suddenly finding my shoes very interesting. “We just don’t have the space or an extra bed. In case you forgot, it’s only a one-bedroom apartment and there are already three of us.”
“Four,” she corrected and stretched out her legs.
Frankie stood behind her, shaking his head violently. But what were we to do? What Muffin wanted, Muffin got. Arguing was futile. And, yet, I learn the hard way every time.
Not this time.
I took a step toward the door, feeling a growing need to distance myself. Frankie could sort it out. “I’ll let you figure out the sleeping arrangements,” I said, opening the door. “I have to run an errand.”
“Don’t you dare leave!” Frankie mouthed silently.
“I’ll be back before dark,” I promised before I slipped out and ran for it.
Chapter 20
Mark slammed books into a moving box. “Did Frankie send you?”
“No. I came to check on Gus and you,” I said, watching as more books were treated to the same abuse.
He stopped for a moment to eye me. “Why?”
“Can’t I check on you without an ulterior motive?”
He slammed more books and slammed them again when they didn’t stay upright. “Unlikely,” he growled at the misbehaving books.
“Stop for a second and take a break,” I said, moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll make you coffee.”
He tossed a book and took a breath. “Just grab me water from the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you want.”
I grabbed two bottles of water and crossed over to Mark who slumped down on the couch next to Gus. I gave Mark his water and gave Gus a pet before settling into a chair. Gus grunted and cuddled back into his oversized pink satin pillow-bed. Any thoughts of reclaiming Gus were gone. He was living in the lap of luxury and was clearly doted on by Mark who was currently cooing to him.
“I see you’re serious about moving,” I said, jumping into the dreaded conversation. But as long as I wasn’t in an overcrowded apartment arguing with Muffin and listening to Mya throw up, the awkward conversation was welcome.
“Yes. I accepted an offer on the chapel,” he said with a sigh and looked around. “Now I just have to pack everything.”
I took a swig of water and pondered my next question. He’d accepted an offer, but he didn’t seem upset that it was from Frankie. Personally, I thought he’d be outraged. Unless . . . “Who placed the offer?” I asked, studying his steady expression.
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve never bought a place before, but don’t you have to sign papers? I’m sure the paperwork has the buyer’s name.”
Mark petted Gus and sighed. “I don’t care who buys the place. It doesn’t matter. I’ll sign whatever X is placed in front of me.”
I took another sip of water and watched him. He had no idea Frankie was buying his building.
“How is he?” Mark asked softly, still focusing his attention on Gus.
I took another sip of water before lying. “He’s fine. We’re going to perform at Celebrity Mash tonight.” Okay, the last part was the truth, but I thought a little pot stirring was in order. It wasn’t just to get back at Frankie for all those times he’s made my life . . . uncomfortable. He deserved it. But that’s not the case this time. It’s because the two idiots actually had feelings for each other but were too stubborn to work it out. Instead, Frankie pushed and Mark fled. I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned somewhere in the muddle, but at present, I didn’t have a clue. Instead, I’ll wing it and see what happens.
Mark’s hand paused on Gus and then eventually continued. “Same song?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find a replacement singer?” he asked nonchalantly, but I could feel his tension from five feet away.
“No. Frankie switched the steps a little. He’ll sing solo instead.”
Mark gave a slight nod. “I should keep packing,” he said and stood.
I stood as well. “Would you like help?”
He gave a small smile. “No, but thank you. I’ll have it packed in no time.”
I gave Gus one last pet and walked to the door, feeling a wave of sadness on losing Gus. “If you want to come, we’re scheduled to go on stage at ten.”
“Thank you, but I won’t.”
“I think you may change your mind,” I stated, opening the door.
“Why would you think that?”
“It’s time you find out who you’re selling your building to,” I said, walking out the door and feeling quite mischievous.
I hope this doesn’t backfire on me.
* * *
“What are they doing here?” I hissed.
“I invited them,” Frankie said and eyed Mya who was sagging against a prop. “If nothing else, they can haul Mya offstage if she upchucks. Not like it’s never happened before. Stage fright can be traumatic.”
I peeked through the curtain again to see Greyson, David, Caleb, and Remy all sitting at a table together. Not only were they drinking, but they were talking. Talking! My already flip-flopping stomach was now clenched with added worry. God, please don’t let the talk be about me . . . and other events. Dark spirits, I pleaded, please go away for one night. You can have a crack at me tomorrow. Just don’t let Greyson and Caleb find out that I am seeing both of them at the same time.
I was rather surprised Greyson and Caleb would show up since neither was happy with me. They must be here to support Mya. David certainly was. I had no idea who blackmailed Remy to sit through this.
I had been feeling a little guilty about telling Mark to find out who was buying his building. I had thought it was the perfect plan to get Mark and Frankie to start talking again. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized it wasn’t such a good idea after all. The guilt evaporated when I saw who Frankie had invited.
“We’re on after this song,” Frankie said, making room for a very beautiful woman to pass through the curtain and onto the stage. A warm round of applause greeted her as she stood in front of the microphone. The intro to the song played and she swayed to the beat. She took a deep breath and sang. Baritone.
“I thought she was a woman,” I said, eyeing the curvaceous woman with a deep voice.
“No one here is a woman,” he said, rearranging his temporary breasts in the tight, sequined dress. It’s a sad day when a man can wear a dress better. His legs looked better, and he even walked in heels better.
“I’m a woman,” I said, even though I was wearing a theatrical tux and top hat.
“Yes, well, you don’t count.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Mya said, holding her stomach.
“We’re on next,” Frankie said, pressing his lips into a thin line when she covered her mouth. “Just sit this one out.”
“I was really looking forward to it,” Mya pouted between her fingers. “After the baby comes, I probably won’t get another opportunity.”
“You’re friends with Frankie,” I said dryly. “There will always be anothe
r opportunity.”
“I’m going to try,” she said adamantly. Her pale face told me she wouldn’t make it past the first chorus.
Applause and whistles carried the curvy performer offstage. As she slid past the curtain, she itched her scalp, tipping the wig. Frankie clenched my hand as he was being introduced.
“Divas, it’s time to make some magic!” He grinned, patted his wig, and strutted onstage. Mya and I followed behind, not nearly as theatrically, but we gave our best.
We stood in the spotlight, waiting for the music to queue. Thankfully I couldn’t see anything past the bright lights. My jittery nerves spiked to a crescendo as the first notes played. I heard the music and Frankie, but everything else was a haze. I felt like a ghost as I moved through the routine.
One, two . . . hands up . . . breast jiggle . . . magic hands and shuffle.
A horrendous wrenching noise caught me off guard. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to slide or shake. I glanced over at Mya for help and instantly forgot everything. She was bent over and heaving. I dashed over as Frankie stopped in mid-verse. David had the same idea and was on the stage in a flash.
“Mya, are you okay?” David asked, wanting to help but turning the same color as Mya. “Does she have the flu?” he asked me, cringing as she tossed up her accounts again.
“No. She’s . . .”
“How dare you!” a voice in the dark audience hollered. I held my hands up to block the light and saw Mark marching toward the stage, waving papers. Oh, boy! I was hoping he would confront Frankie and work things out, but I didn’t think he would charge into Celebrity Mash. Mark hopped on stage and stood toe to toe with Frankie. “You’re trying to buy my building!”
“So?” Frankie said. “It was for sale.”
“Now it all makes sense. You wanted to get rid of me so you could have my building!” he yelled. “You can forget it! The building is no longer for sale!” Mark shredded the papers and tossed them in the air. They fluttered onto the already-crowded stage.
Frankie’s eyes bulged and he stomped a high heel, heading into a high-pitched battle with Mark.
Squeeze Play Page 15
