Chapter 7 Frankie
Frankie
Even with the door closed, the noise from Flamingo’s dining room and kitchen seeps into Flo’s office, making any kind of peace impossible.
But I’m as much at fault as anyone for my less-than-ideal sanctuary.
While Junie’s on my lap wearing my wig and watching her fourth episode of Bluey, I’m checking the view count on the Tik Tok video for the thousandth time.
The video is officially on its way to viral, and Serenity Cove keeps showing up in the comments.
In between checking view counts and okaying “one more” Bluey episode three times now, I’ve obsessively checked for messages from Cal.
I wanted to do my best with Junie to return the favor he did me last week, helping me escape.
Really to thank him for his friendship every day he’s come in to Flamingo’s over the past six months.
But the healthy snacks are still in her bag, and she’s got an empty shake glass in front of her, along with half a dozen fries on the floor from the extra-large order Flo made for us.
Junie’s been watching Bluey for two hours straight, and she’ll watch as many episodes as needed whether or not she asks.
I’m not in the right headspace to be taking care of anyone right now.
Flo saw that on my face when I rushed through the back door.
She took one look at me, dumped fresh-cut potatoes into the fryer, then shuffled Junie and me into her office and shut the door.
I’d torn off my uniform and changed into street clothes as fast as I could.
If people were going to take any more pics of me, it was going to be in my own clothes and in my own hair.
Junie had gasped when I took off the wig. “You have more hair?”
Which is how she’s ended up wearing my wig for the past two hours, despite the look of horror on Flo’s face when she brought us a tray of fries and found Junie—blonde and beehived—scribbling on a notepad like she was a server. Flo huffed but didn’t say a word about it.
She had more important things to say to me about the customers—all out-of-towners—who’d come in five minutes after I left, clutching their mobiles and asking, “Is this where Frankie Forsythe works?”
I busy my hands straightening my wig on Junie’s head and retying her shoes, but all I can think about is how I brought this on myself. No one knew about Serenity Cove until my Tik Tok. I always got heaps of views, but that one went viral, just like I’d wanted. Or thought I’d wanted.
In my mind, I was hyping Rancho Mirage, the eco-resort Dad and I planned to open in Serenity Cove. Really it was just my dad manipulating me for his own gain.
Once I figured out how Dad was using me and Serenity, I did my best to undo the damage. I’d hoped Serenity Cove could go back to being a secret. I hoped even harder for that when I ran away and thought this was the only place I wouldn’t be found.
But wishes don’t come true and there’s no such thing as putting a genie back in a bottle. I can act, but I can’t pretend there hasn’t been a vibe shift since I “discovered” Serenity: more outsiders, more mobiles, more Serenity isn’t hidden anymore energy.
Junie’s Bluey episode comes to an end, and I’m ready to watch another.
Bluey is the only good thing that’s come out of this mess today.
If I have to hole up alone for a while, I’ll be binging every episode about the Australian blue heeler and her family, imagining that’s what my life could have been like if Dad and Mum had stayed together and Archie and I had just stuck to surfing instead of moving to LA to be on TV.
Except, that’s heaps of what ifs, and they don’t even touch on the biggest one: what if Dad hadn’t hit so big with Forsythe Tech? What if he’d never become a billionaire? In my mind, that’s where we went from being a happy little Aussie family like Bluey’ to a heap of trouble.
We were a wealthy family, even before the billions, and we’re also not cartoon dogs. Both may have something to do with all our family disfunction.
Just as the next episode starts, Junie turns off the iPad and slips off my lap. “I’m ready to play at my house now.”
“Alright, love. Your daddy will be here any second to take you home.” I rush to block the door before she can open it.
Her little eyebrows dip with confusion. “We can go in your car. I help wif my seat.” She points to her car seat in the corner.
I bend down so we’re face-to-face. “I’m so sorry, Junie. I can’t go to your house like we’d planned.”
Her bottom lip pokes out, tempting me to give up my resolve to stay out of her life for her own good. “We can go to your house to play wif your toys. I won’t touch anyfing off-limits. Promise.”
A thousand responses play in my head. I should be tough, tell her I don’t have toys and I don’t do play dates. But I can’t watch her blinking rapidly to hold back tears and break her heart without breaking mine, too. Mine is already pretty broken, but hurting Junie might crush it beyond repair.
A knock at the door saves me from having to make the decision. Cal pokes his head inside, then his whole body before he closes the door behind him.
“You okay?” His shoulders fill the door frame; his light blue tee is smudged with dirt, and the smell of grass, sweat, and hard work permeates the air.
I nod, flooded with relief as I nudge Junie toward her dad. But she clings tightly to my hand, tugging me along with her, and my relief is followed by the realization that she doesn’t have to tug too hard. I’m drawn to the safety of Cal.
“Daddy can Fwankie still come to our house? Or I go to her house? I’ll be on best haviors. Promise.”
Despite the tugging from Junie and my own weakness, I plant my feet. “No, Junie. We’ll have to play another time,” I say firmly with my eyes on Cal, so he knows I’m not going to drag him or Junie into my mess of a life.
Cal’s brows dive into the same confused look Junie gave me a few minutes ago. “I came for both of you.”
“Cal—”
He hands me the hat and camouflage hoodie he’s holding. “There’s no one at the back door. A couple people at the end of the alley…”
I don’t move. “If I go with you, you’re part of this disaster for more than a few hours. You’ll be hounded. Junie won’t be safe.”
Junie stops tugging but doesn’t let go of my hand, just steps closer to me.
Cal’s eyes drift from mine to Junie who looks back at him with an innocence he has to guard before anything else.
I gently pull my hand from hers and nudge her toward her dad. “Take her and go. You can’t hide me this time.”
With one hand around Junie’s and the other still held out to me, his gaze returns to mine. “Too late. That’s what the camo’s for—to hide you. It’s not much of a disguise, but…” his shoulder lifts with the corner of his mouth.
I purse my lips, trying not to return his smile. Not sure he meant to, but with one dry joke, Cal has laid bare both the seriousness and ridiculousness of my situation.
I can’t hide anymore. The idea I ever could was always an illusion.
But I also shouldn’t have to hide like an animal being hunted. It’s the hunter who wears camo, not the prey.
“No more arguments,” he adds. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
I know I shouldn’t. It’s selfish. Cal has no idea what he’s getting himself and Junie into.
I take the hoodie and hat anyway. The hoodie drowns me, the sleeves fall past my hands and the frayed bottom hits me mid-thigh. I zip it to my chin. It smells like wet grass after a storm: sharp and sweet; windswept, but sturdy.
It smells like Cal.
I tuck my hair under the hat, then pull up the hood over the hat. As a final piece to my disguise, Cal takes the sunglasses tucked into the neck of his shirt—the same pair I wore the other day—and hands them to me.
I slip them on, then tug the drawstrings on the hood so it’s tight around my chin and cheeks.
I’m sure I look ridiculous, but the less of my face any potential photographers capture, the less money they’ll make on the image.
Better yet, the more they have to focus on figuring out if it’s me behind the hoodie and glasses, the less they’ll focus on Cal and Junie.
More than anything, I want to keep them safe.
“How do I look?” I ask, trying to make a joke of the situation that’s not funny in any way.
Cal sways side-to-side, studying me, before tucking a loose curl under the hat. The brush of his fingertips against my cheek sets off an avalanche of sensation—the first good feeling I’ve had in hours.
“Like someone trying to hide, but no one will be able to get a good picture of your face.”
I scoff. His honesty actually makes me feel safer.
Flo knocks on the door at the same time she opens it. “Things have cleared out for a sec. Now’s a good time to go if you’re going.”
She says this to Cal, like he’s the one in charge. Which, I guess he is. And I reckon I’m okay with that.
“Wait here while I put Junie’s seat in my truck. I’ll come back for you both.” He grabs the car seat at the same time Junie grabs my hand.
“Yay! Playdate! Do you want to play Barbies or ponies? Or you can meet my pony…” she jabbers on, swinging my hand back and forth, but my focus is on Flo.
“Should I come in tomorrow?” I chew my lip, waiting for the answer I already know.
She shakes her head. “I’m afraid you’ll be more of a distraction than a help. I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sorry.” I grab her hand and squeeze tight.
Flo’s not a hugger, and I’m in a hurry, but she pulls me into her arms. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’ll keep you updated about anyone you need to keep away from. This’ll all die down, and you’ll be back here in no time.”
We both know that’s not true. Today was my last day wearing a blonde beehive wig and working for Flo. The only way to show my gratitude for everything she’s done for me is to not come back.
And that just sucks.