Chapter 18
SOFIA
I’m surprised by Frankie’s text when I wake up, but even more surprised by my reaction to it.
It’s been a couple of days since I’ve heard from him, and I was starting to worry.
Of course, I didn’t let myself recognize the fact that I was worried, but all the same, receiving that text puts my mind at ease.
He doesn’t say much
Frankie: Thinking about you. Can we get together?
My heart speeds up, and I don’t waste any time responding.
Me: Sure. Dinner?
Frankie: I’m actually tired of eating out. Could we play golf or go for a walk?
I have to laugh, looking down at my phone. I’m still in bed, and a quick check of the clock in the corner tells me it’s 6:30 in the morning. I’m surprised he’s even up at this time, although with a new sibling on the way, maybe it’s a good thing he’s getting a jump on an early schedule.
Me: I’ve never played golf.
Frankie: Great! I’ll pick you up at noon.
I inhale deeply, setting my phone down near my pillow.
A golf date. What could be more innocent than that?
I imagine a country club full of beautiful people sipping lattes as they look out over the green.
I think about all the fun we’ll have walking around the open fields, swinging our clubs before moving on to the next hole.
It will be the perfect place to pump him for more information, but I’m hardly even thinking about that.
If I have to be honest with myself, I’m looking forward to spending time with Frankie.
I know he’s the subject of my investigation, but the more time I spend with him, the happier I feel.
He’s really sweet and I can’t imagine him caught up in any kind of criminal activity.
He picks me up around noon, just like he said he would. He knows where I live now, so I don’t have to pretend. I walk to the front door wearing sneakers and a pair of shorts. I don’t have any outlandish golfing outfits, so this will have to do.
Frankie gets out of the car and comes around to open my door.
“You don’t have to do that,” I scold him.
“I want to,” he says. “You deserve it.”
I sit down in the passenger seat, trying not to be impressed.
The kind of guy who opens doors has long since ceased to exist in American society.
I decide it must be his Italian heritage.
I have to admit it’s charming, and I’m in danger of forgetting my hidden agenda.
For once, I wish I could just relax and enjoy our date.
I decide there’s no harm in having a little fun, since I have to be here anyway.
I lean back in my chair and watch the houses slip away as Frankie takes us out of the neighborhood.
We have to backtrack past his house to get to the golf course. He lives out here with all the rich folks, while I live back with the nine-to-fivers. There’s a vast difference between us, but Frankie doesn’t seem to care.
He pulls into a massive parking lot that is halfway full of cars.
I open my door before he has a chance to come around, but he’s there to help me out all the same.
I accept his hand, standing up to breathe in the fresh afternoon air.
He shuts the car and locks it with his key fob, and we walk together into the clubhouse to rent our clubs.
“You don’t have your own set of clubs?” I ask.
“I do,” he replies. “But since we’re renting a set for you, I thought I’d do the same.”
I study him for a moment, wondering why it makes more sense for him to pay extra. This must be something that rich people do, not considering the cost.
“I don’t play very often,” he explains. “And I haven’t been out here in years.”
“In years?” I gasp, surprised to learn that it’s not something he does every week.
“Golf is a means to an end most of the time,” he shares. “It’s a place for my dad to meet with his business partners. I usually just tag along. But it’s actually kind of fun if you just focus on the game.”
I consider the wealth of information he just shared, filing it away for further exploration later in the day.
He’s revealed that he has some contact with his father’s business, but possibly not for several years.
That’s good news. The less involved he is with his family’s crimes, the better.
I chastise myself silently. I’m not here to protect Frankie from my investigation; I should just follow the trail of clues wherever it leads.
But I don’t want him to be involved, so I grasp at threads that seem to prove his innocence.
He’s right; golf is kind of fun. I don’t realize how much force it takes to drive the ball until I’ve tried a few swings. I’m horrible at it, and the ball stops a long way away from the hole. Frankie beats me hands down, sinking his first ball in only three tries.
“So par is four for this hole, that puts me one under,” he explains.
“What about me?” I ask.
“Seven?” he teases. “That’s three over par.”
I laugh, knowing that I’m going to have to do better if I have any chance of winning.
We talk about unimportant things as we walk.
We both hate calculus and spend a long time comparing the classes we took in high school and college.
We both like ice cream, although I favor rocky road and he likes vanilla.
We both played an instrument in elementary school, but neither of us were serious enough to continue after childhood.
After the golf game, we walk back to the car. I don’t want this day to end, so I decide to invite him back to my place. “What are you up to now?” I ask.
“I have some things I have to do,” he says vaguely.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” I suggest, hoping he’ll take me up on the invitation.
“I do,” he replies. “But I can’t.”
We stand next to each other beside the car.
He slides a finger through my hair, pinching a strand before tucking it behind my ear.
I can sense the honesty in his voice, but there’s something else.
He doesn’t want to do the things he has to do, and he won’t tell me what they are.
Warning bells ring inside my head, but I ignore them.
I only want to think the best of him, and I don’t want to consider the fact that he’s neck-deep in all his father’s dealings.
“Okay,” I reply. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow I’m busy,” he shoots me down. “But Friday we could get together.”
“Friday,” I agree. “What are you doing? Studying for the exam?”
He doesn’t answer, and that says more to me than any lie he might come up with. He drops me off at my apartment, and I immediately call Mario.
“What have you found out?” I ask before even saying hello.
“I’ve seen some of the same characters go back and forth,” Mario reports.
I sigh. I’m not sure there’s an advantage to continuing the surveillance of the restaurant. “Maybe take the day off,” I say. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
“You’re the boss,” Mario replies.
I replay the golf game over and over in my head, but the only thing I remember is how Frankie made me feel.
I really like him, and that’s dangerous.
I don’t want to lose sight of what I’m planning to do.
Danny needs me, now more than ever. And I can’t abandon him just because I’ve found someone who understands me.
Friday comes, and Frankie and I go out to eat.
He’s very particular about the restaurant and disapproves of my first three suggestions.
I wonder if there’s a reason. Maybe his father owns some of the more popular places.
I can’t ask that question, though, so I just settle for the restaurant of his choice.
It’s a sushi place, and I have to admit, it’s delicious. We spend nearly two hours chatting over California rolls and green tea. No one interrupts us, and by the end of the meal, I feel like I know him even better than before.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” I ask again. It’s feeling one-sided, this affection I have for him. If he refuses me again, I might have to reconsider putting myself out there.
“Yes,” he says, restoring my confidence in our relationship.
I try to ignore how excited I am at the prospect of spending more time with him, but it’s difficult. My heart has clearly chosen sides. I wonder what Danny would think if he knew that I was playing around with the enemy. I hope he won’t hate me for being weak.
We arrive back at my apartment, and I put on some music.
I grab a bottle of wine from my refrigerator and pour us each a glass.
Sitting on my sofa, we continue talking about our lives.
It’s amazing how much we can say without venturing into dangerous territory.
I learn all about the summer camp he used to go to and his friends from the university.
I tell him as much as I can about Danny without revealing my suspicions.
I also share one or two stories about previous boyfriends until Frankie asks me to stop.
“I don’t need to know who you dated in the past,” he says seriously. “The only thing that’s important to me is that you’re here now.”
“Do you want to spend the night?” I ask him point-blank.
He glances over at me, his smile growing to gigantic proportions. I can instantly sense what he’s thinking and hurry to quantify my invitation.
“I’m not ready to have sex,” I blurt out. “I just thought it might be nice to sleep together.”
“Just sleep?” he asks, slightly disappointed.
“For now,” I say quickly. I’m pleased that he’s so excited to sleep with me; it makes me feel wanted. But I need to protect my journalistic integrity, which means no actual intimate contact.
I’m walking a fine line between moral activities and immoral ones.
I tell myself that it’s safe, that Frankie would never hurt me and I’ll be able to put on the brakes if things go too far.
But it’s not Frankie I need to worry about; it’s myself.
By now, I’m well aware that he won’t do anything I’m not comfortable with.
That means the ball is in my court, and I’m the only one who can pull the cork and let the genie out of the bottle.
I push all my worries aside and insist that I want him to stay. He agrees, opening his arms for a hug. I put my wineglass aside and go to him, laying my head happily on his shoulder. We watch a few stupid videos on YouTube before heading to the bedroom.
It’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself. Lying there in bed with him beside me feels almost like heaven. I wonder if I’ll ever experience something this sweet after all is said and done. Frankie will probably hate me, and his father will probably come after me for revenge.
But for the moment, my secret is safe, and I’m free to enjoy the handsome man in my bed. I throw an arm around him and close my eyes to sleep. It’s crazy, but I actually feel safe with Frankie by my side.