17. FRANKIE
SEVENTEEN
FRANKIE
My phone buzzes. A video call from Gen flashes across my screen.
Genevieve and I clicked the first time we met when I was visiting San Fran for work. I’ve got three years on her. She’s whip smart—like a little bit freaky smart—and is incredible with clients.
She was maybe six months into her position when we had our little meet cute.
I sat next to this adorable garnet red-haired woman; she looked over at me—I want to say her eyes were green at the time—and she said oh my god, you’re stunning!
To which I responded. No, you’re stunning.
And that was that…kismet. She’s the first person I’ve ever felt that almost fated love with.
Not in a romantic sense, but friendship wise.
I wish she lived in Providence, but I’ll settle for the few times a year I get to see her when I go out to San Francisco.
I answer without video since my face is healing, but it still isn’t pretty. “I am hurt, Gen. Hurt. What kind of friend are you?”
“Oh, don’t you even go there, babe. One who just got back from vacation and saw you’re out on leave for at minimum two weeks! What kind of friend are you? Where was my call to let me know what happened? Also, what the fuck happened?”
I chuckle. “It’s a mile-long story, girl.”
“I’m waiting. Also, where is your pretty face? Why didn’t you answer my video call?”
I heave a sigh. “All right. You asked for it.” I press the video button.
Gen’s slim face, violet eyes, and short dark-haired bob appear on the screen. Her eyes go comically wide, and she gasps.
I arch a brow. “See why I didn’t answer with video.”
“Baby girl, what happened?!” Her hand is covering her mouth, and her eyes glisten like she’s close to tears.
“Bar fight.”
She cocks her head and shoots me an incredulous look, tears evaporating just like that. “You. You, who embodies everything that is happy and fun and are like a walking firework, got in a bar fight?”
I see that mask I wear for the world is working like a charm. I send her a wink. “Some people are intimidated by this much greatness. Totally jealousy motivated.”
Her violet eyes sparkle. “All right. I can see that. So, that bruising is from…”
I nod. “Taking a fist to the face.”
Her dainty nostrils flare. She’s a little feral pixie.
“More than anything, I’m pissed I didn’t land one.
But I ended up with a concussion, so my screen time was limited for a while.
I’ve been testing it out, playing around on the computer to see what I can handle.
I’ll be able to come back, maybe for half days, as soon as I think I can tolerate that much screen time.
It’ll be slow going easing back in. I’ll probably avoid the office for a bit and just stick to working from home. ”
She nods. “Makes sense.” She gasps. “Ohmygod. Thank goodness it happened after your exam!”
I lean forward. “I know! That was literally my first thought.”
She nods seriously, her hair bobbing vigorously. “Literally. That would have been the cruelest thing. How do you think you did? Think you passed?”
I hesitate, an uncomfortable pressure settling in my chest. “I think I feel pretty good about it. But I’m always so terrified I’ll get the fail.
It’s so hard to know with these exams. I just want to be doneee.
” I end on a whine. I failed my last exam twice before I passed. I don’t want to go through that again.
Her forehead wrinkles in sympathy. “I feel you, babe. At this point, I just assume I’ve failed so that it’s the best surprise when I pass. You’re so damn close. That FSA raise is right there waiting for you.”
My eyes flutter shut. “And that bonus. Please and thank you.”
“I expect some of that to be spent on me. I am your exam emotional-support person. I must be compensated in the form of Mai Tais.”
I perk up. “Oooh. Yes. Let’s go get Mai Tais the next time I’m in San Fran.”
“It’s a date. So, how are you feeling? I cannot believe this. Like. Can. Not. I need names. Addresses. Descriptions of faces. I’ll send Kieran after him.”
I chuckle. “I’m feeling much better.” Thanks to a big, comfy center fielder spending time with me. “The first few days were the worst, but it’s mostly just ugly at this point.”
She clucks consolingly. “You poor thing. Well, I’m glad you have all those men living with you. They better be taking care of you. Do I need to lecture anyone?”
“No.” My lips tug up. “I have been well taken care of. All these sexy men doting on me. It’s been quite the treat.”
She glances away and lets out a faraway sigh. “Living the dream.” She pauses. Frowns. “Well, minus the getting punched in the face.”
Our gazes meet, and we break out laughing.
“Are you still coming here in a few weeks?” Her voice lilts up hopefully.
“Yes. Flight scheduled. I have that client meeting…”
We share a disgusted look. With Nick.
Gen is one of the very few people who know what happened between me and Nick. That was also fueled by too many Mai Tais. Liquor and Frankie aren’t the best combination. I learned that lesson in my college days.
A beep comes through the speaker, and Gen groans. “Sorry, Frank. I need to take this. But I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks. I miss you!”
“Miss you too, Gen. Love you.”
She shoots me a smile, mouthing the words back to me, and the call cuts out.
The happiness I was feeling slowly drifts away.
I miss Gen. I don’t have anyone like her here.
I mean, I have the boys, and I have Shelbs.
But they’re not mine. They’re all on their way to Bridgeport.
Jed’s already there. I’m sure Shane, Paulie, and East are next. Shelby and Maddox already live there.
I love them all to death, and I know they care about me the same way, but sometimes it feels like I can’t find a person for me. Friend or boyfriend.
What Gen said about me—I’m like a walking firework—she isn’t wrong.
I’m a lot. Maybe I’m too much for people.
All I know is straight men tend to not want to be friends with me, queer men just want me for one purpose, and the ladies…
Well, the ladies are my best shot, but I just haven’t had that connection with anyone.
I work with so many incredible women, but they’re not people I’m going to be anything more than friendly co-workers with.
Not like Gen. Sometimes finding that close friend feels akin to dating.
It’s just as hard. You have to have chemistry.
I know I don’t try as hard as I should. One, because I am almost always studying for an exam or working. And also because…I love my boys here. They fill my cup.
It’s just…that cup is going to be taken away from me at some point.
I scrub my hands over my face. Then wince. Okay, definitely still tender to the touch. I sigh. I can’t imagine I’ll get many bites when I’m looking like this.
“Hi, my name is Francesco, and I get into bar fights! I promise I’m a lovely person.”
Making friends is Future Frankie’s problem.