I crank up the volume and Vinny and I lean forward to catch every word. “Elise is on a mission to nail the jerk. Good for her!” Vinny grins and does a fist pump.
Elise pushes open an office door and enters a lobby filled with elderly people.
“That lobby looks familiar…like a spa. Where have I seen that office before?” I plunk my Diet Coke can down without taking my eyes from the TV. “Ohmigod, Vinny. I think that’s Alex’s office!”
“Are you sure?” His eyes bulge with excitement.
“Yes! That’s his receptionist, Monique. Look at her preen for the camera,” I say with disgust as the snooty receptionist purses her glossy lips and fluffs her highlighted blond hair with a delicate, manicured hand.
“She’s hot,” Vinny says.
“Shh.” I don’t want to hear him compliment Monique. “Let’s listen.”
Elise approaches the reception counter and tells Monique, “I am Elise Richards, health reporter with WBCG. We’re here to interview Dr….”
Monique gives Elise a haughty, collagen-puffed smile. “I’m sorry but Dr. Escobar is busy on a phone call.”
“Where is he?” Elise inquires.
“In his office. Do you have an appointment to see him?”
“What? Is she for real?” I ask Vinny, whose gaze is glued to the set.
“She’s hot,” he says again, and I feel like clobbering him.
Riveted, we watch Elise ignore Monique and push through a swinging door.
“Wait a minute. You can’t go in there!” Monique cries, jumping up from her chair. Several of the model-type staff rush forward trying to block Elise’s entrance, but she barrels ahead like a rampaging tornado, with Cal close behind.
Monique positions herself in front of Alex’s door with her arms outstretched melodramatically, forming a human barricade. Unfazed, Elise walks right up, nudges Monique aside and flings the door open.
There is a quick shot of the receptionist’s shocked, horrified glare before the camera zooms in on Alex, who is sitting at his desk garfing down a guava pastelito.
I jump up from the couch, scaring Romeo who was snoozing at my side. The minute he sees Alex, Romeo runs to the screen and starts barking at it.
“I love this. Serves him right!” I shout, unable to believe what I’m seeing. I turn to Vinny, who is staring at me wide-eyed. “Alex is such a hypocrite. He once ruined dessert by telling me, ‘a moment on your lips, a lifetime on your hips’.”
Vinny snorts. “What a douche bag. There’s nothing wrong with your hips, they’re perfect.”
“Aw, thanks, Vinny.” He is too sweet. Nobody’s ever called my hips perfect.
“Look at Elise. She’s ready to pounce on him,” Vinny says, bouncing on the couch.
“Dr. Alex Escobar.” Elise enunciates his name loudly and clearly as she positions herself in front of his desk. “Is it true that you have profited greedily by hospitalizing healthy senior citizens with fraudulent orders for unnecessary expensive medical procedures?”
Alex drops the remnant of his pastelito into a white bakery box that’s filled with more pastries.
“Who let you in here?” he thunders, slamming his hands on his desk. His face is turning purple as his eyes blaze black fire.
“Please answer the question for our viewers,” Elise says in a calm, professional manner.
“Get away from me,” he barks, shoving the microphone from his face.
The camera shot is so tight we can see the pastry flakes on Alex’s belligerent chin and a smear of guava at the corner of his angry, twitching mouth. Too late, Alex turns his face away from the camera and raises an arm to shield his identity.
Undeterred, Elise continues forcefully, “We have solid evidence that your Cardiac Wellness Program has made millions by bilking Medicare for…”
“Shut up,” Alex snarls as he tries to yank the microphone from Elise.
She holds on tight and they struggle before he lets go of the mic and bolts from his chair, covering his rabid face with a manila envelope.
Alex makes a dash for the door, with Elise and the cameraman at his heels.
In a triumphant tone, Elise adds, “The authorities have uncovered your money laundering activities too. Do you have anything to say to our viewers, Dr. Alex Escobar?”
Alex turns toward Elise and his eyes look scary, like a devil’s. “You’ll pay for this, bitch!”
Oops, Alex said bitch on live TV. Not exactly good for his already tarnished image.
I dance around my apartment squealing, “Yesss! Fry his ass, Elise!”
Vinny does fist pumps. “You go, girl!”
I suddenly remember that Alex never did reimburse me for that dinner at Ortanique. The creep and with all the money he was milking too. You would think he would be a little less cheap with his stolen taxpayers’ money. Well, jerk, a moment on TV, a lifetime behind bars for you!
When they cut to a commercial, I collapse on the sofa in a state of utter shock. I turn to Vinny who is cradling his Corona in one hand and petting Romeo with the other.
“Unbelievable,” I manage to say.
“Elise should get an award for that. She was amazing,” Vinny says in awe.
“I’m stunned. Alex never struck me as being a swindler—or a criminal. I mean, he’s a creep in other ways, but a crook? I can’t wrap my head around this.”
It’s too horrible, especially since Alex is Elise’s twins’ father. That’s why she looked so anguished when we met and couldn’t tell me more. No wonder she was so secretive about everything. I admire her strength. Elise is a survivor and I want to be like her. Fear is not an option will be my motto again! No more chickening out on things, no more worrying about things I can’t control, I vow silently. Well…I’ll try my best anyway.
“I never liked him. He’s an arrogant ass,” Vinny says about Alex. He gives me a puzzled look. “You didn’t get the vibe that anything was up with him?”
“I should have put two and two together,” I say in a cynical voice. “Alex lives in a mansion in Cocoplum. He owns several luxury properties and drives a Lamborghini.”
“He does? Cool.”
“Not cool. He must be dishing out a fortune to keep his mother and his sisters living in high style.”
“Well, there you go.” Vinny rolls his eyes. “He’s whack.”
“Plus, he bankrolls Lisa Lulu’s Intimates, the lingerie shop that belongs to his twin sisters.”
Vinny raises one eyebrow and a predatory smile lurks on his mouth. “Sweet.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Vinn.”
Vinny grins and guzzles his beer.
I feel sick inside—for Elise and her babies. She must have been under such duress holding back from exposing Alex’s involvement until she was absolutely certain. What a moral dilemma she faced! It took a lot of guts for her to expose Alex’s corruption on TV for everyone to see. Ethically she was bound to, but it had to have been hard for her to make public that the father of her sons is a criminal. It’s tragic.
“Elise has come back better than ever, don’t you think?” I ask Vinny. I am so proud of her.
“Yeah, she rocked the segment. And she looked tres chic.”
“I sure hope Antoinette recognizes it.”
“Antoinette’s been in a bad mood lately,” he confides. “Sounds like her sugar daddy is having problems.” He rolls his eyes and points to his crotch.
“Really? What’s wrong with him?” I ask, looking away from Vinny’s crotch.
“I heard her complaining to Dr. Hamme that he hasn’t been up to par, if you know what I mean,” Vinny confides with a snicker.
I roll my eyes. “Spare me the details. I’m grateful she finally agreed to let me come back to work on Monday.”
“It’s about time. The place is boring without you.”
“Aw, thanks, Vinn.” I frown. “But I am a little miffed at Antoinette. She won’t let me go to Bowled Over this weekend.”
“Why not?”
>
“Because I still have some scars. She doesn’t believe I can cover them up with makeup.”
“That’s harsh. What’s her problem?”
“She’s probably worried I’ll look gross.”
“You? Never,” Vinny says, winking at me.
“Thanks. You are too kind.”
I don’t tell Vinny that I’m planning on going in disguise like Fizzy suggested. The fewer people who know, the better. Hopefully Santiago has come up with a good one.
Speaking of Santiago…I’m dying to meet Fizzy’s mystery lover. Ever since she came back from their weekend together, she’s been glowing like a firefly and it only makes me miss Harrison more.
“Is it true you’re doing a weekly sex show with Dr. Hamme?”
Oh God, please tell me he’s kidding. “I haven’t agreed to anything. Where did you hear that?” I demand.
Vinny shrugs his shoulders. “Not sure.”
I will not do a sex show with Devon!
Romeo: I’m glad Vinny’s here. He’s a cool dude. I like it when he speaks in French. It reminds me of my delectable Coquette.
The minute Vinny mentioned the sex show to Francesca, she freaked out. Vinny cracked up at her reaction. It’s obvious he’s smitten with her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It’s Friday and I just finished baking five-dozen chocolate chip cookies. When I’m feeling down or restless, I bake. It’s the perfect remedy because the end result is so yummy. Unfortunately, I ate half a dozen of them straight out of the oven, warm and chewy with a slight crisp around the edges. Now I’m not feeling any better, just fuller.
Make up your mind, Frankie. I can’t stop thinking about what Harrison said. He is losing patience with me. With all the comings and goings of doctors in my apartment, who can blame him? I need to do something special for him. I know! I’ll pack up some cookies and take them to him. Brilliant.
I fill a round plastic container to the brim with cookies. A piece of twine around it gives a nice, homey touch. If I’d thought of it before, I could have bought a pretty tin. No matter. He’s a guy. I doubt he’d even notice the tin.
“What, Romeo?” I ask him when he won’t stop nudging my leg. He looks agitated as he barks at the kitchen counter where the cookies are on cooling racks.
“These are for Harrison. I already explained why you can’t have a whole cookie,” I say picking him up. I break off a few edges of a cookie where there are no chips. “Now be happy with that. You can’t eat chocolate. It’ll kill you,” I remind him.
Romeo crunches away at the cookie bits and then gives me a pity stare for more.
“No, you’ve had enough. If I give you any more, you’ll end up at Harrison’s office. Mommy doesn’t want you to get sick.”
Romeo makes a mewling sound and gives me a look of disgust.
“You’re not the only one who feels grumpy,” I tell Romeo, petting his sweet little head.
Other than the one time Harrison returned my call and I missed it because I was in the shower, I haven’t been able to reach him. My calls have gone straight to his voice mail. I don’t want to think that he’s avoiding me because that would be mean and Harrison is not a mean person.
I figure it has to be something else, so I call Chloe’s cell. But she’s about to show a property, so she hurriedly mumbles, “I’ll call you back, Frankie.”
“Wait!” I plead. “Do you know what’s wrong with Harrison?”
“What do you mean?” she asks right away.
“I haven’t heard from him in three days.”
“I’ve had a hard time reaching him too. Amanda, his receptionist, said he’s been swamped. He’s working overtime to make up for the days he lost last week.”
That makes me feel guilty. “It’s my fault. Harrison was busy taking care of me.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t only because of that. He’s going away next week.”
“He is? That’s the first I’ve heard of it. He never mentioned he was taking a vacation.”
“Sounds like a mini one. He’s going rock climbing in the Grand Canyon. Actually, he called it scaling…”
My grip tightens on the phone. “He is scaling the Grand Canyon? That’s so dangerous! Why does he enjoy stuff like that?”
Chloe laughs. “Oh please, that’s nothing. Last year Harrison went swimming with the sharks in the Patagonia.”
“I know. I don’t understand how he considers it fun,” I grumble.
“Because he heard the sharks are the fiercest there,” Chloe shares matter-of-factly.
“Is he insane?” I ask, horrified.
“Nope, he’s Harrison. He’s been like that since he was a little kid. Fearless.”
“More like reckless.” My stomach starts to churn, worrying about his safety. “What have I gotten myself into? I’ve lost my heart to a madman.”
“Shoot, I gotta go, Frankie. My client’s here. Let’s talk about this later.”
When I hang up with Chloe, a vise of nervousness grips me. Scaling the Grand Canyon…swimming with fierce sharks. Who would do this for fun? I knew Harrison was into extreme sports, but this is too extreme. Does he have a death wish or something?
I must start reading the book I bought last week, How to Stop Worrying and Start Living Life. I need to learn how to stop worrying while I sort things out, especially if I want to live as if fear is not an option. I would have started reading it sooner, but I hid the book in my nightstand while Harrison was here tending to me. Now that I’m better, I’ll tackle it. It’s that or give up on Harrison and I’m not willing to do that.
I clutch the cookie container to my chest and hope he hasn’t given up on me already.
Romeo: It sucks being a shorty. If I had Scout’s long legs I could get up on my hind legs and eat more cookies. Francesca is feeding me crumbs while she munches on a dozen of the million she baked. Who was the idiot who proclaimed chocolate is bad for dogs?
She just got off the phone with Chloe and is pacing the living room, babbling to herself about Harrison climbing canyons and swimming with sharks. Now she’s looking for her book to conquer her anxiety. How am I supposed to conquer mine?
If I can’t have a cookie, how about a date with Coquette? For all I know she is in heat and I’m missing out. That makes me want to howl at the moon. Aaaaoooooh!
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I’m having another chocolate chip cookie attack. I need to get ’em packed up and out of sight or I’m going to keep devouring them. If I didn’t have to be in front of a camera, which adds five pounds, I wouldn’t worry about it so much.
I finish filling two zip-lock storage bags with cookies to share with Fizzy and Vinny, when I hear a familiar knock on my door. Sounds like it might be Harrison. He always knocks three times in a row hard enough to get my attention.
Romeo follows me to the door with excited, high-pitched barks. I open the door and the first thing I notice is the way Harrison’s eyes give me a quick once-over. His mouth starts twitching at the corners before he gives in to a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Nice apron. I’d love to,” he drawls, pointing to my chest.
I follow his appreciative gaze and realize I’m still wearing my retro-style frilly white apron that says, “Taste my cookies” on the fabric over my breasts.
“Oh, thanks. It was a gift from Chloe. You know how she loves retro stuff.”
Harrison grins. “She has good taste.”
“She does. Come in. I’m glad you’re here. I have a surprise for you.” Glad is an understatement—I’m thrilled.
He hovers at the door, his sexy grin widening. “Oh? I brought you a surprise too.”
“You did? What is it?” I wonder why he’s empty-handed if he brought a surprise.
“Hi, Frankie!” Chloe jumps out from behind Harrison with her arms outstretched.
“Chloe!” I squeal, flinging my arms around her in a tight hug. “I thought you were in New York!”
&n
bsp; Her jade green eyes twinkle with mischief. “Ha, fooled ya.”
Chloe picks up Romeo, who’s practically hyperventilating from the joy and excitement of seeing her. “Romeo, how’s my little love?” she croons, kissing Romeo’s head repeatedly as he pants and licks Chloe’s hand adoringly. “Who’s my precious angel? You are, Romeo, you are!”
When Harrison reaches over to pat him, Romeo rewards him with lots of licks too.
“Were you with Harrison when we talked earlier?” I sure hope not!
Chloe gives me a look that says he wasn’t there, so don’t worry. “No, I was getting off the flight.”
“Oh.” Boy, am I relieved. “You look wonderful, Chloe. Very Mad Men chic. Love the handbag.” Chloe’s toting a tan Tory Burch bag that looks amazing with a fitted sleeveless black linen dress that hugs her slim curves and shows off her toned arms.
Chloe isn’t as tall as Harrison, but she’s taller than me by a few inches. You can tell the family resemblance in their beautiful green eyes, tawny skin and chestnut hair.
“Thanks. You look great too,” Chloe says politely.
“No, I don’t,” I say and we both crack up.
My hair is in a loose, messy ponytail and I don’t have a stitch of makeup on. Chloe has seen me like this before and Harrison has seen me looking even worse at the peak of my chicken pox. Compared to that, this is an improvement. Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Chloe inhales deeply, her nose following the scent as if she were scoping through a submarine telescope, first right then left. She looks hilarious.
“Where are they?” she demands.
“I was packing them up. Want some?”
“Hello? Aren’t we both sick chocoholics? Of course I want some.” Chloe turns to Harrison. “Frankie makes the best chocolate chip cookies ever. You should try them.”
“I already said I’d love to,” he says, nodding at the teaser on my apron.
“I made a batch for you, Harrison,” I say, smiling up at him.
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