Chapter 7 Frankie
FRANKIE
I have never been so aroused and angered by a man while talking to a child before.
How do married people do this?
There’s no way I can do this for a month.
Owen Brodie is infuriating and full of himself, and he’s wearing glasses today, which makes him look more down-to-earth and approachable—which just makes me even angrier for some reason.
I want to punch him in the face, but I know better than to punch someone when they’re wearing glasses.
And judging by his biceps, he could probably punch me back pretty good—and I wouldn’t put it past him to try it either. So I will restrain myself.
His ex-wife must be a wonderful person because this kid is great and I see very little resemblance to his father aside from the electric-blue eyes and a little cleft chin that will probably cause a lot of trouble for girls in about ten years.
Not that it’s the electric-blue eyes or the dimple in Owen Brodie’s chin that’s causing trouble for me.
It’s the entire fucking package.
But this is about Sam Brodie, so I need to focus on him.
He shrugs in response to my question about what he was watching upstairs. “Nature show. Nobody died in it though, so it was kind of boring, I guess.”
“I mean, what’s the point, right? Have you seen the one where the shark jumps out of the water and eats the seal?”
His face lights up like I just asked him if he’s ever met Santa Claus. “Yeah! That was so awesome.”
“I felt really bad for the seal, but it was a cool shot.”
I can sense his father cringing over there, but I’m not going to look at him.
Sam nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, me too. But I like that kind of stuff because sometimes, when I don’t like stuff in my life, I think about how at least I’m not being eaten by a shark.” He shrugs again. “And then I feel better.”
“You are a wise man.”
Owen clears his throat. “Your life’s pretty great though. Huh, buddy?”
“It’s fine. But sometimes really dumb kids in my class get better grades than I do, even though I’m smarter than they are. It’s annoying.”
This kid is really speaking my language.
And now I look up at his dad when I say, “Yes. It is annoying when other people do really well, even though you’re more awesome than they are. But that’s life. And eventually everyone will realize how smart you are. Right, Mr. Brodie?”
Wow, his jaw is clenched so tight. I hope he doesn’t hurt his face.
“Sam actually gets really good grades, and it’s important for everyone to have a positive attitude and to not compare themselves to other people. Right, Sam?”
“Tell that to the seal,” Sam and I both say at the same time.
I hold my hand up for Sam to high-five me, and he almost doubles over from laughing so hard.
Owen watches in dismay.
I guess his son has never laughed at him this much, or something.
I guess I should feel bad for Owen.
But I feel really, really great about myself.
“We’re funny,” I say to Sam conspiratorially. Like it’s our thing.
“Yeah. We are.”
“I’m sure the seal went around thinking he was funnier and more awesome than everyone else too…until he got eaten alive,” Owen mutters.
Sam and I both turn to stare at him.
He frowns at me defiantly.
“Well. That escalated quickly.”
“I just want to be clear that that’s not going to happen to you, Sam,” he says reassuringly. “You’re not going to get eaten alive by anything.”
“Ohhh-kayyy.”
I give Sam a little nudge. “That’s comforting, huh?”
“I’m just saying—”
“So, Sam.” I talk over Owen and try to change the subject. “I hear you’re going on a big trip with your dad. You excited?”
“Sometimes. I’m excited to see my uncle in New York. He says the pizza there is better than here.”
“Oh, it is, for sure. The crust is really thin, so you can fold it up and eat it while you’re walking around.”
“Hmmm. I like to sit or lie down when I’m eating though.”
“Well, you can do that too. But people walk around a lot in New York, is the thing. So sometimes you have to eat while you’re on the go.”
“Oh. Hmm.” He touches the tip of his finger to his chin. “I hope I don’t have to walk around a lot.”
“Don’t worry about it, buddy,” Owen chimes in. “She doesn’t know what we’ll be up to in New York. We can do whatever you want. Plus, we’re going to lots of other fun cities. Like Tampa.” He gives me a look. “Remember Tampa?”
Sam wrinkles his nose. “Where Grandma and Grandpa live?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t like it there.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Sam turns to me. “But you’re coming on the trip with us, right?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I might be busy, and I think your dad has to meet with some other people.” I stand up slowly. “I should get going actually.”
“I like you though.”
“Well, I like you too, Sam. But you should probably meet the other people too.”
“We already met five other ladies, and I didn’t like talking to any of them.” He turns to his dad again. “Dad. Tell her she can come with us.”
Owen stands up too. “We need to let Frankie go so she can check her schedule, okay?”
“Can’t you check it on your phone?” he asks me.
Smart kid.
Great taste too.
But he comes with a dad that I do not have a taste for.
“I really do have to get going now, Sam,” I say firmly but kindly. “It was so nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out to shake his.
He pouts but shakes my hand and then crosses his arms in front of his chest and frowns at the floor in front of him.
“Hopefully I’ll see you again,” I say to him, picking up my bag and starting for the front door.
“You want to walk Frankie to the door, Sam?”
“No.”
“Fair enough.”
I try to get out of this house before Owen can catch up with me, but that fucker is fast. You’d think the upright hair would slow him down, but the sleek jawline probably helps him to glide through the air like a sarcasm-seeking missile.
He unlocks and opens the door, staring down at me. “Thanks for coming by.”
“He’s a great kid.”
“I know.” He gestures for me to step outside and then follows me, lowering his voice. “Look, obviously Sam liked you, but it’s also pretty obvious it wouldn’t be a good idea for…” He waves back and forth between us.
I would love for him to finish that sentence with words, but it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to.
“I agree. He did like me. And no, it wouldn’t.” I turn to walk the path to the front gate. “See you around, Owen Brodie.”
I don’t look over my shoulder to see if he’s checking out my ass because I can actually feel his eyes on me.
He hasn’t moved.
Hasn’t turned away from me.
But he’s letting me leave.
And I’d better go home to practice carrying dishes of food while I walk, smiling at strangers who want me to bring them things, and being around food without eating it.
On a positive note—since I have such a great new attitude—I’ll have a lot of new material for my stand-up act.