Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
DANNY
F rankie looks like she’s shocked to her core but trying desperately to pretend she’s okay. I’m not sure what I expected her reaction to be. I’m not even sure I know what my reaction is. I guess it’s like winning a huge lottery prize. You buy a ticket, never expecting to win, but there’s always that tiny bit of hope. Then – boom – you’re rich! And everything changes!
Oh, fuck. Guess I know why Frankie looks like that. Everything’s changed, and not for the better as far as Frankie’s concerned. She doesn’t want to be part of this new life.
It was bad enough today when I thought I’d lost her to her mom. But that was temporary childish sulks and this is very real. My excitement gives way to a panicky dread.
“I can pull out,” I tell her. “They’ve only agreed to film a pilot, so?—”
“Don’t be stupid,” says Frankie, roughly. “This is amazing. You’ll be great on TV.”
I walk towards her, and see her flinch, like she can’t bear for me to touch her. She might as well have slapped me across the face for the way it hurts.
“Frankie.” I’m pleading and I don’t care. “This is not as important to me as you are. It is not . Can you please believe me?”
Her mouth is trembling, like she’s doing her utmost not to cry. Or yell.
“But it is important,” she says. “It’s a huge, big deal. It’s not something you should give up just like that.” She snaps her fingers. “You’d regret it for the rest of your life.”
She blows out a ragged breath, turns her head away. I sense it’s vital that I keep my mouth shut right now. Besides, I’ve no clue what to say.
When she turns to look at me again, her expression is calm. Too calm.
“I brought you my mom’s mac ’n’ cheese,” she says. “You should eat it before it gets cold.”
“Fuck the mac ’n’ cheese, Frankie.” I am very far from calm. “Can we talk about this? Please ?”
“No,” she says, instantly. I see her mouth tremble again, just for a second, and then she throws up her hands, as if warding me off. “I’m sorry, Danny. I can’t. Not right now. Tomorrow, maybe…”
And before I can do or say anything to stop her, Frankie dashes out the door and slams it behind her.
Fuck. Ten minutes ago, I left like the luckiest guy on earth. Now, it looks as if every good thing in my life has to come with a price.
I try to tell myself that Frankie just needs time to process, and that she hasn’t made any kind of decision yet. But my brain’s having none of it. All I can feel is an overwhelming sense of, yet again, having failed. I can hear my dad telling me how disappointed he is that my shallow, ego-driven pursuit of minor celebrity has cost me something real and special. Yep, those would be my dad’s exact words: “shallow and ego-driven” and the absolute kicker “minor” celebrity. Mom would be kinder but she’d still sigh in that way that shows she’d hoped for better from me.
Shit, Danny. Get a grip. If you convince yourself the worst is going to happen, it probably will. Get through tonight and things will look better in the morning. In the meantime, eat the fucking mac ’n’ cheese.
I eat the fucking mac ’n’ cheese. Straight out of the casserole dish. It’s delicious and I resent every bite because Frankie’s not here with me, wearing that goddamn adorable dress. I wanted her to take off that goddamn adorable dress and stand in front of me looking goddamn adorably naked. I very much wanted us to do what I’m picturing right now, and I wish I’d bought beer for myself as well as Frankie, because getting blazed into a stupor seems to be the only way for me to stop thinking about her.
I could text her. To let her know that I’m thinking about her…
As if reading my mind, my phone pings, and I grab it, hoping like hell it’s a text from Frankie to says she’s changed her mind and is coming right back over.
It’s an email from my producer guy, subject line: We did it! I sit and stare at those words, and let their meaning sink in.
Yeah, we did, damn it. And Frankie’s right: it is important. It is a big deal, and I should be proud that I made it happen. This will be my show, where I get a chance to share my expertise with the world. It will not be shallow or ego-driven. Okay, maybe a little ego-driven, but in a good way. I’ll get to talk about my passion, and what I really care about.
Thing is, I really care about Frankie, too. And it goddamn unadorably sucks that I might not be able to have both.