Chapter 22 Frankie
Frankie
If I wanted to prove to Jillian that we were soulmates I had to save her coffee shop.
And it was obvious Cash didn’t consider me a threat at all, for the next several days he didn’t even bother to hide what he was doing when I dropped off his lunch.
Not only that, but I was constantly running into stupid Christabelle, coming in with a morning or afternoon coffee for him, in her microminis with her nauseating tits hanging out.
I couldn’t believe I’d ruined my perfect life for a few minutes of hasty groping with her.
And she made it very clear that without any money, status, or connections to my parents, she had zero interest in me.
“I am going to stop you,” I warned Cash. “I’m not going to let you ruin Ramshackle Bay for your own selfish ambition.”
He snorted. “You couldn’t even stop me from taking your wife away. You couldn’t stop Jillian from leaving you. What makes you think you can stop me now?”
“I’m the one that ruined my marriage,” I said. “And I haven’t given up on getting a second chance.”
He rolled his eyes. “When you’ve got steak at home, a woman doesn’t go looking for a gas station hot dog. Here,” he added, pressing a crisp $5 bill into my front pocket. “Earn a little money and feed Athena for me.”
Oh, great, now he wanted me to be pecked to death as well as destroy the town.
It felt so strange going into my former house, and I knew Cash had done it on purpose to taunt me.
I swallowed down a massive lump in my throat.
How familiar it all looked—the same sofa, the same throw over the back of it. The same artwork on the walls, with the sickening blank places where Jillian had taken pictures down. Because they had both of us in it. And she wanted to erase me from her life, forget I ever existed.
How could I blame her? I had been a dog and an idiot.
It was like a sickening uncanny valley, where everything was heart-stoppingly familiar, yet there were little differences everywhere I looked that showed Jillian had cut me out of her life.
My surfing trophies off the shelves. Our bowling and Putt-Putt scores down from the fridge. My shoes weren’t by the door. My books gone from the shelves.
I did see a lot more art from Jillian everywhere I looked—paintings, drawings, clay, sculptures.
If I won her back, I was going to make sure she got her time in the light, because for so long she’d supported my passions.
She truly was talented.
For a minute I thought there was nothing left of me in the house at all.
Then I saw it.
A slight smear of blue on the doorway.
I felt tears prickle at the corner of my eyes.
One year we’d been blue and pink unicorns for a musical festival and I’d dyed my hair blue. We’d gone and I’d pranced my fucking heart out, laughing as I kissed her eyelid, then her nose, then her mouth, smearing her makeup. But she only laughed.
And I’d been an idiot. I’d taken her for granted. Taken my whole life for granted. Even been a little bored on occasion, because I didn’t get that constant stream of stupid validation that I did in college.
Well, my twisted little relationship to the adulation I got had been shattered forever. Jillian was what was real. Nothing else was or mattered.
My eyes were blurry with tears, and no matter how much I wiped them away, there were always more.
I needed to get it together and feed Athena.
Advancing on her with the chunk of pineapple, I held it out submissively.
“Here you go, Your Grace,” I said humbly. “I guess you’re pretty pissed to see me, aren’t you?”
But she said nothing as I approached, watching me with those knowing beady eyes.
“IDIOT,” she suddenly squawked.
“I know. I know.”
But to my surprise, she allowed me to feed her several pieces of fruit without actively taking a chunk of flesh from my ear.
“I did something bad. I’m trying to make it better.”
She looked condescending, but allowed me to leave with only a few scrapes on my knuckles.
Was I deluding myself or was she even a little bit happy to see me?
If Athena could be wooed, might even change her mind about me, who was next?
I had to convince a bunch of people who absolutely loathed me to come to the City Council meeting and vote against Cash.
My first stop was Bonnie and Ronnie. After all my therapy, did they trust me?
But they were skeptical.
“We trust Cash with this town,” Ronnie said indignantly, as Bonnie sat braiding her hair. “Why don’t you focus on those karate classes you were taking so you don’t look like such a flailing weakling the next time you get into a fight with Cash.”
I had been paying Tuppy down at the pub an exorbitant fee to teach me some fighting, which he described as “bare knuckle British style.”
“I’m not trying to fist-fight Cash!” I protested. “This is serious.”
“I don’t think Cash would do something like that,” Ronnie added, looking out over her glasses at me.
“He would! He’s not who you think he is.”
But they were skeptical. And so was Tuppy. And so was Dale, when I tried to explain the situation in between frying spicy, sizzling fish filet.
Even my former friend Jeremy didn’t seem to give a shit, but as I left City Hall, he hissed at me out of the corner of his mouth.
“Earnest.”
“Huh?”
“Just—Earnest,” he said, darting his eyes toward Cash’s office.
Well, hell. That could only mean that Earnest was on board with whatever Cash was planning and might even be involved in something shady.
Fuck.
Maybe my parents could help. I wasn’t sure in what way, but maybe they had connections and could convince the company to do the right thing?
On my way back home, my body aching and exhausted from being on my feet all day, I called them to see if they’d want to go to dinner.
“Not interested,” Dad said immediately.
“Jillian will be there,” I said, my voice sounding choked. “At least, I hope she will be.”
“Well—” he began.
“And it’s something very important to her,” I added. “I’m doing everything I can to get back together with her.”
“Well. . .” he debated. “Perhaps we’ll send Jillian an invite to dinner on the yacht. And if you’re turning over a new leaf, perhaps you can come too.”
“I’ve been turning over a new leaf—” I protested, but he was already gone.
“Oh, are you reconciling with your parents?” Christabelle asked, stepping out from the shadows of the pub and running her hands down my biceps.
She stepped closer, her perfume going straight up my nostrils, and her breasts heaving artistically.
But this time the performance only left me nauseated.
She had barely looked at me since my parents very publicly had taken Jillian’s side, which meant the humiliating realization that I’d blown up my marriage for someone I didn’t even like, and was only after me for my money.
“No,” I said immediately. “No. I don’t want you. Period. Not at all.”
“You seemed like you couldn’t resist me before,” she purred.
“No,” I spat out, shaking her off. “Never again.”
The thing was that I couldn’t stop replaying all the memories with Jillian.
And replaying what had happened that day I cheated. Wishing, more than anything, that I’d made better choices.
What had been wrong with me that I thought I needed closure?
I had been wracking my brains trying to figure out why I had ruined my happy marriage, and I finally knew.
I wasn’t seeking closure. I was seeking one more hit of that adoration dopamine that Christabelle provided. I had to face the ugly, embarrassing truth. My thought process had been so immature.
I had always seen myself as the prize, and it was how people had always treated me too, especially in college, when I had flaunted my family wealth more.
Friends in college had said to me, “Oh come on, man, you’re not really gonna settle down with Jillian, are you?”
And I had always laughed it off.
“Damn man, she’s perfect. I’m going into politics.”
Jillian was the safe and sensible choice. But I didn’t realize even then how deeply in love with her I was, because I saw love as something twisted and unstable and toxic.
I was ambitious. I had loved being the King of Ramshackle Bay, having everyone eat out of the palm of my hand. I craved that celebrity status, those hits of adulation.
And over the last two years I had realized these hits were shallow and unfulfilling, and if I chased them, I would always want more. They would never satisfy me.
I hadn’t appreciated Jillian properly at all, not as her own person, not as more than a helpmate for me. I felt sick and ashamed of myself.
How could I ever convince her I had changed?
I had to show her I didn’t think of her as second best. Hopefully my work in the town would help demonstrate that I cared about her concerns.
If there were any objections, I knew Cash was going to try to get around everyone by declaring eminent domain and seizing the land anyway.
Was that scumbag Earnest working with him?
I had a long, uphill battle, but I wanted to prove to Jillian that I cared about her and would fight for her.
Discouraged, I went inside where Mrs. Greenberg was sitting with her feet up.
“How about you make me some latkes tonight?”
“All right, fine,” I said.
“What’ve you been out so late for?” she added as I began to mix the batter.
“Trying to convince everyone Cash’s just trying to scam the town with this stupid upcoming corporate deal.”
“A man with a bottom like that couldn’t do such a thing,” she said, but she narrowed her eyes when I said the words eminent domain.
“Everyone in town adores him now, so what can I do?”
“No whining,” she said crisply. “So you screwed up and everyone hates you. You can come back from this.”
“I’m trying.”
“I might be able to help,” she said. “I can talk to some people too.”
“Oh. Thank you so much,” I said. “Damn. I didn’t expect that.”
“Watch those latkes! Don’t burn them, boy!”
As I scrambled to obey, she stroked the top of her smuggest cat and eyed me contemplatively.
“Also, I noticed that Blue has very distinctive green eyes. Strange, don’t you think? Cash doesn’t have green eyes, neither does Jillian. Quite a distinctive look around that chin, too. Adorable child.”
And with that, she got up to feed the cats, leaving me to try to pick up my shattered jawbone from off the floor.