I got myself together enough to ask, “He dumped her?”
“Apparently, she didn’t share there were four before him and he wasn’t feelin’ the love for the writing he saw on that particular wall.”
“Oh God,” I whispered.
“She’s freaked,” Cat continued. “Told Nat he was the love of her life and that she can’t be around him, so she’s movin’ back to Chicago. Nat told Enzo, who’s currently holed up in a bunker somewhere to escape all the crazy bitches in his life, but now also to escape Ma. He told me about Ma. And we all know this translates to the fact she’s fucked up money-wise, and needs to mooch off someone seein’ as she was livin’ with the guy with him footin’ the bill.”
Suddenly, I was wondering if Benny would move to Indianapolis, at least temporarily.
“Needless to say, I’m not takin’ her calls,” Cat carried on.
“Probably a good idea for a while,” I muttered, meaning for about eight months.
“She could change plans and head to Indy, so this is your friendly, sisterly heads up to avoid that shit at all costs.”
“She can’t stay here because I’m not gonna be here in a few months,” I told her.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m moving back to Chicago, shackin’ up with Benny.”
This brought silence that I thought I could read.
Therefore, I decided to tackle that later and start at the beginning.
“And Cat, Chrissy is not a bitch. She’s really nice. I think she loves Dad and I know she’s excited about that baby. So, she named her a weird name. We’ll call her Minnie or somethin’.”
Cat didn’t reply.
“But I’m with you on Ma,” I went on. “You have to focus on makin’ a baby with Art that I hope you won’t name Solitaire, and I’ll back that play with Ma if she calls. And Ben will not ever in this lifetime let her live in his house. He’s not Ma’s or Dad’s biggest fan so, luckily, I can throw him under that bus and he won’t give a shit if I do. He takes my back on everything, but tellin’ Ninette to move on along, I think he’ll actually enjoy. Nat takes her on, that’s her gig.”
Cat said nothing.
I ignored what I was sure that meant and kept babbling.
“This is what we’ve got to work with: a growing family of craziness that’s annoying half the time, whacked all the time, but under that, we love each other. I never really got that until recently. I know we could have had it better. We could have all made better decisions. But I think everyone on this planet can probably say the same thing. We have what we have, and if we accept it no matter how insane it can get, set boundaries to how much we can deal with, and remember that in that mix there’s a whole lot of love, we’ll be okay.”
Cat didn’t reply.
So I called, “Cat?”
“He takes your back on everything?” she asked, and I smiled at my steering wheel.
“Yeah. He’s awesome like that.”
And a lot of other ways besides.
I stopped smiling and started to feel different kinds of warm fuzzies when Cat’s voice came at me again.
Actually, it wasn’t just what she said. It was the way she sounded when she said it.
“You’ve been swingin’ in the breeze, Frankie, for so long, it is not funny,” she said quietly, but her voice was trembling. “Even with Vinnie, he let you swing in the breeze. They all thought you were behind his shit, but he let them think that. He should have stepped up on that, got that straight, not let you carry his burden. He didn’t. That pissed me off. Then he dealt the ultimate, leavin’-you-swingin’ ’cause he got whacked.” She paused and I held my breath. “I’m glad you finally got someone who isn’t gonna let you swing in the breeze.”
This was not what I expected her to say.
Not even close.
It was a whole lot better.
And it reminded me of why I loved my sister and why it was always worth the crazy.
“Thanks, Cat.”
“You’re welcome, darlin’. And, just to say, my boundaries are gonna be a whole lot less flexible than yours are gonna be.”
“I get that.”
“And sayin’ that, I’m okay with it, because I’m thinkin’ that yours are gonna be flexible but Ben’s are not.”
She was not wrong.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
I heard her take in an audible breath before she asked, “Chrissy isn’t a bitch?”
“Nope.”
“She seemed pretty much not there the couple times I met her,” Cat noted.
“The couple times you met her, she was around one or all of us, and when that happens, no one is there but us and our big mouths.”
“I see your point,” she muttered.
“She’s nice,” I reiterated.
“You like her?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’ve chatted occasionally. It isn’t like I’ve written her in my will, but she’s pretty cool.”
“They all are.”
She was not wrong about that either.
“Well, this one has our sister so I figure she’ll be around for a lifetime, one way or another,” I pointed out.
“Even if she’s nice, this does not make me want to jump for joy, ’cause Enzo Senior is gonna fuck that shit up and we both know it.”
“A baby sister, Cat,” I reminded her of what would come out of that particular craziness for her and for me, at the same time mentally hoping I could get Chrissy to text me photos. I was also thinking it was time to mend fences with Dad. And lastly, I was wondering how I’d talk Benny into not losing his mind if I did that.
“Whacked and annoying, but we love each other,” Cat said. “We’re totally messed up.”
“I’m thinkin’ so is everyone else. They just deal with it better or cut each other a lot more slack.”
“Yeah,” she said softly.
“Now go home, get laid, make me a niece or nephew, and call me in a month with good news.”
“I’ll ask Art how he feels about the name Solitaire,” she joked as I turned the ignition.
“You do, I’ll still love her…and you,” I did not joke.
“You’re a pushover,” she stated, but her voice was softer and kind of husky.
“Whatever,” I replied.
“And a dork,” she went on, not sounding soft or husky.
“I’m hanging up now.”
“And if you think I’m gettin’ mushy, just to say, that’s another boundary I won’t cross.”
“I’ve already hung up,” I lied.
Her voice was smiling when she said, “Later, Frankie.”
“Later, Cat.”
I ended the call, tossed my phone to the seat beside me, and looked through the windshield.
Tandy, Sandy, Jennie, Miranda, and the IT guy were gone. So was the CR-V.
I put my car in gear while hoping that was Tandy, away from prying eyes, telling everyone to stop doing shit that could get them fired and start being cool, even as I had a feeling Tandy was doing the exact opposite.
Then I reversed out of my spot to go to Arby’s, get home, and start searching want ads.
* * * * *
“I’m givin’ up,” Cheryl decreed, leaning into the bar toward me.
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I’d given up too.
On want ads.
I had also given up on waiting around my house alone the hours it would take for me to go to sleep, wake up when Benny got off work so I could phone him, and listen to him saying words that would give me an orgasm.
So I’d changed into jeans and a blousy, drapey, yet still clingy tee, strapped on fabulous spike-heeled sandals, fluffed out my hair, and took myself out to J&J’s Saloon, the local bar, a bar owned by Feb.
Feb was working. As was Cheryl.
This was good since I knew no one in Brownsburg but Vi, Cal, Kate, Keira, Angie, Colt, Feb, and Cheryl, plus a few more friends of Vi’s (who were also friends of Feb and Cheryl) that I ha
d met at the wedding and bonded with over Bellinis. They were all married, most of them with kids, so we had yet to do what we promised to do at the wedding: hook up for a girls’ night out. So I didn’t count them. And Angie didn’t count either because she couldn’t yet cogitate. And since Vi and Cal were still in Virgin Gorda, and Kate and Keira were not of age to go to a bar (and they were still in Chicago), this left me fortunate that Cheryl and Feb were both working that night so I didn’t end up looking like a stylishly dressed barfly.
Once I got there, I wished I hadn’t left it until that late in my sojourn in Brownsburg to go.
Granted, I was more the subdued lighting, fabulous décor, every-drink-served-in-a-martini-glass type of establishment kind of girl, and this was not that. It was mostly made out of wood, rough and worn with age, and undoubtedly had more than its fair share of bar fights. There were pool tables in the back, and pool tables usually heralded a joint that was not my scene.
I still liked it.
Maybe it was because I walked in, Cheryl and Feb looked my way, and both of them called out greetings, Feb’s being, “Hey, babe! Cool you finally showed,” and Cheryl’s being, “Yo, Frankie, how’s tricks?” and that felt good.
After being away from everything I knew and found familiar all my life, to walk into a bar and have the women behind it give me a smile and a greeting, it made me feel home in Brownsburg for the first time since I’d been there.
It felt better gabbing with them both as I drank glasses of chilled white wine and people watched.
Though, now, I didn’t know what Cheryl was talking about.
“You’re givin’ up on what?’
“Men,” she decreed.
We’d been discussing the best brands of extra hold hair spray.
How did we get here?
“Uh…why?” I asked.
“’Cause, see, I’ve been livin’ in this ’burg for, like, ever, and the minute I hauled my shit over the city limits was the minute that commenced a dry spell unprecedented for me. And I work in a bar. That shit’s impossible.”
“A dry spell?” I asked.
“Babe, a dry spell. As in, I haven’t been laid…in forever,” she shared.
Clearly, as she barely knew me outside of us being in a waiting room for a joyous event and us mingling at a wedding reception during another one, she had to get this out. And as a sister, even without years of bonding over martinis (or tequila) and discussions of the best beauty brands of anything, I had to let her.
“That sounds like it sucks,” I noted, though I didn’t share with her that I had possibly the world record in dry spells after Vinnie, so I knew her pain like no other.
“It does,” she agreed. “And it does more, seein’ as you been in this bar once, and Tanner Layne has been checkin’ you out. From the moment he walked in the door, his eyes went to your ass and his eyes have been strayin’ your way the last twenty minutes.”
“Tanner who?” I asked.
She jerked her head along the bar and my eyes went to the other end, where a very good-looking, dark-haired man was sitting, smiling, and talking with Feb.
“Tanner Layne. Now, I’d go there,” Cheryl announced. “I’d go there the last four times he’s been in. I’d go there when my radar pinged when he moved to town not long ago and I’d never even met him, I just sensed his off-the-charts ability to provide quality orgasms. I’d go there right now in the bathroom or the office. But he only looks at me to order a drink. You, though…”
She trailed off so I said, “I’m taken.”
“Yeah, you’re you and that’s all a’ you,” she replied, rounding my head with her hand, including my big hair. “And your man is way hot. But he’s in Chicago. You look like you, Tanner Layne looks like him, your man is in Chicago, shit happens.”
“I gave him a calendar for his birthday with my schedule written in it, family birthdays, shit like that, and he told me that’s all he ever wanted. A life reflected in the busy family times written on a calendar stuck on a wall in the kitchen. He asked me if I was gonna give that to him and I said yes. So that guy is hot and Benny might be in Chicago, but that shit is also not gonna happen.”
I finished my pronouncement and Cheryl stared at me but did it saying, “He said that’s all he wanted out of life?”
“Yep.”
“And that doesn’t freak you?’
“Absolutely not.”
“What do you want out of life?”
“A man who wants a calendar on the wall in his kitchen written all over with busy family times.”
“Then you’re sorted,” she noted, her eyes lighting, her lips curling up.
“Yep,” I agreed, knowing my eyes were lighting and my lips had curled up.
“’Cept you live here and he lives there,” she pointed out.
“My lease is up in October and then I’ll live there.”
To this, her eyes got big, her mood deteriorated, and she surprisingly snapped, “What?”
“Well,” I started hesitantly, uncertain of her sudden mood swing. “I’m movin’ in with Ben.”
“Great,” she bit out. “Finally, you stroll in J&J’s and I’m ready to groom you to be my wingman. Feb can’t do it ’cause she’s taken and has a baby, and Colt would lose his badass mind if I took her out carousin’. Vi used to do it, then she got hooked up with Cal, and he’s arguably more badass than Colt and would definitely lose his mind if Vi went out carousin’ with me. And I know this for fact ’cause I asked, she told him I asked, and he lost his mind. You look like you’d be a good wingman and you’re the only semi-kinda-single woman I know in the ’burg that I like. Now you’re leavin’?”
I felt for her. A good wingman was hard to find.
Still, I answered, “Yep.”
“Freakin’ awesome,” she said, not meaning it. “Now how’m I gonna get laid?”
“We could go carousin’ while I’m still here. You’ve got a coupla months.”
“What you doin’ Wednesday?” she asked instantly, and I grinned.
“Carousin’ with you,” I answered.
That was when she grinned.
Feb moving caught my eye and I looked down the bar to see that Tanner Layne was now taking a phone call.
He really was hot.
But Benny was so totally hotter.
This thought and the man’s age made my eyes go to Cheryl and I asked, “Tanner Layne have kids?”
“Yep, word is two boys.”
“One named Jasper?” I asked.
“No clue, seein’ as he hasn’t fucked my brains out so we could get down to the pillow talk of sharin’ how many offspring we might bring to a Brady Bunch scenario.”
I smiled at what she said but kept eyeing Tanner Layne as I muttered, “I wonder if he’s Jasper’s father.” I said this as I hoped he was because those genes would undoubtedly be dominant and that would mean, once Cal lifted the ban, Keira would get a live one.
“Who’s Jasper?’ Cheryl asked, and I looked back at her.
“The boy Keira has a crush on.”
She jerked up her chin high on an “Ah.” Then she said, “I’ll find out,” and moseyed toward Feb.
I sipped my wine, and after a couple of minutes, Cheryl moseyed back.
“Jasper is the oldest,” she confirmed. “His other one, Tripp, is younger. Neither have been picked up doin’ stupid shit by Colt or anybody as far as Feb knows. But she’s willin’ to interrogate Colt about Jasper’s suitability for Keirry.”
“That’d be good, seein’ as Cal’s reluctant to give her the go-ahead to make her play with the kid because, according to Kate, he’s a high school player.”
“I’ll get Feb on it,” she said.
“Thanks,” I murmured, then we both went silent since Tanner Layne was throwing some bills on the bar and he was doing a chin lift to Feb.
He walked the length of the bar, eyes on me, and when he got close, his head tilted slightly to the side, his lips tipped up, and his eyes got l
azy. Then he walked right on by and out the door.
I had to admit, my nipples tingled a little, but then again, that was an automatic female response to a hot guy head tilt/lip tip.
I also had to admit it was nice to know I had it in me to be sitting on a barstool and get the hot guy head tilt/lip tip.
But mostly, it was just a pleasant thing to happen while I passed the time until I could phone Benny.
* * * * *
“You okay?”
This was Ben’s greeting that night at 12:45.
“Please tell me you’re close to a bed,” I replied, my voice sleepy and throaty. The first because I’d just woken up and called Benny. The second because I was multitasking so I’d already engaged my vibrator.
Ben’s voice was no longer concerned but something a whole lot better when he demanded, “Tell me you’re serious, cara.”
“I’m very serious, Benny.”
“How far gone are you?” he asked.
“You still got work to do, honey,” I answered.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled and there it was. That was all I had to hear. Benny got to work.
Luckily, that wasn’t all Benny gave me. He gave me a whole lot more and he did it until he heard me come. Then I set my vibrator away, rolled to my side, curled up, and in my throaty, quiet, post-orgasm voice, I gave him a lot more until I heard him come.
I was silent a moment for him to come down before I whispered, “I miss you, honey.”
“Comin’ to you this weekend.”
I blinked at my pillow. “What?”
“My turn.”
“So soon?” I asked, my heart leaping, hoping he would confirm that yes, he was coming back to me and soon.
“Done with this shit. I’m down there or you’re up here every weekend.”
Even though I loved that I idea, it worried me.
“That’s a lot for you at the restaurant.”
“Two months. They’ll cover me.”
I knew that was a sacrifice for Benny.
But it made me happy, and not just because I’d see him more, also because he wanted to see me more and he was a man willing to make that kind of sacrifice for me.
“Cheryl is gonna have to make do with a weekday wingman,” I muttered, thinking that’d work for her because she probably worked most weekends.
The Promise (The 'Burg Series) Page 44
