How The Cookie Crumbles (50 page)

“It’s weird to think of her all alone there,” Domer said. “I wonder what she’s doing.”

“You know what Frankie’s like, she’s probably at home every night, sewing some craft project and watching the Food Network.”

59. Home Alone 2

Jake

When we got back to the house, I was sort of surprised that Frankie hadn’t redecorated with all her free time. In fact, the whole place looked almost exactly the same as when we left, except there was a big painting on the living room wall. It was cool and looked sort of like graffiti or something. Of course, the house was nice and clean, and the fridge was full of food. That was nice to come home to.

It was Sunday afternoon, but surprisingly Frankie wasn’t home. It seemed a little empty without her there. She breezed in about an hour after we got home, got all excited and hugged both of us.

“Hey, I thought you guys weren’t getting back until tonight! I have a welcome home dinner all planned.”

That was more like it. I followed her into the kitchen and sat at the bar and told her some funny stories from the road trip while she made dinner. I peeked under the foil and saw she had some steaks marinating. She popped some potatoes into the oven. This dinner was looking great.

“Is there dessert?” I wondered happily.

“Yes, I baked a chocolate cake.”

“Really? I never saw that.”

“Well, I hid it, because I figured if you got home early you would eat it.”

“Where did you hide it?”

“Oh, somewhere you’d never look. The closet where the vacuum lives.”

We both laughed at that. Frankie was looking good as usual. She was wearing a bright yellow dress, and when she turned I had an overwhelming urge to put my hand on her ass. I hopped off the barstool and stood beside her at the counter.

“What is that?”

She was chopping up parsley and garlic and spices, and whirring it all into the blender.

“It’s a
chimichurri
sauce, to go with the steaks.”

When she was done, I stuck a finger in to taste it. She smacked my hand, “I’ll turn the blender back on and then you’ll be sorry,” she threatened.

“Tastes good. Is that Mexican?” I asked her.

“Uh no, it’s actually from Argentina,” she said, and she started to turn pink.

“Is my standing so close making you nervous?” I asked her. It seemed like we were picking up right where we left off.

“You wish,” she said, shaking her head.

“Oh.”

And that wasn’t the only way Frankie had changed. We came back from practice and found a big pot plugged in on the kitchen counter.

“What is that?” Domer wondered.

“There’s a note:
‘Dear Luke and Jake
,’ hey – why are you always first?”

“I’m the mature one.”

“Anyway,
‘This is a crockpot, and your dinner will be ready anytime after six. There are corn muffins in the basket and a salad in the fridge, just add dressing. xxx Frankie
.’ So where is Frankie?”

“I guess she’s gone out.”

Dinner was good, but after the third night with a dinner left in the fridge or in the crockpot, I was getting kind of fed up. I still liked Frankie’s cooking, but I wanted her to be at dinner, too. She was out so much now that we hardly got to talk to her. Domer was not too happy either.

“I feel like we should be looking out for Frankie. She’s sort of sweet and innocent, and I’d hate to see something bad happen to her.”

I nodded in agreement. Plus I wanted to know what the hell she was doing.

When I rushed home from work, I was surprised to find the boys were home from practice already. I had to get ready for a date with Antonio. He had been in Buenos Aires for the past ten days, so I was looking forward seeing him again. I put on a turquoise shift with a black crocheted-lace overslip and my new patent stiletto sandals. The outfit looked great, and I walked into the living room just in time to see his car pull up.

“Hey guys, I’m off!”

Luke suddenly appeared in front of me and leaned his hand on the door.

“Where are you going, Frankie?” he asked.

“I’m going on a date,” I explained, “but I’m not sure how this is your business.”

“We worry,” Jake said from his slouched position in the armchair. “We’d like to know who you’re going out with and where you’re going.”

“What? Do I ask you guys where you’re going and who you’re with?”

“No,” Luke admitted, “But I kind of think of you as a little sister. I wouldn’t like my little sister to be out with someone I hadn’t met.” Jake didn’t bother adding anything. If he thought of me as a little sister, it would be time to call Social Services.

“Forget it, I’m not letting you two screen my dates. This is so ridiculous. Do I get to screen your dates? Do I get to say who you go out with?”

The boys did not look exactly thrilled at this prospect. But we had spent so much time arguing that Antonio had already walked up and was knocking on the door. Damn! Luke yanked the door open.

“Good evening,” Antonio said politely. “Are you ready,
Frances
?”

“I am.” I tried to leave, but Jake called out loudly, “Oh Frances, you haven’t introduced your friend to us yet.” If looks could kill, but no such luck.

Antonio came in, and I did the honours. “Antonio, these are my roommates, Luke and Jake.” He shook hands with them.

“Have a seat, Antonio. Can I get you a beer or something?” Jake asked, grinning a mile wide, probably because he could see me seething. I hoped that he wouldn’t offer up the box of wine I knew was in the fridge.

“Thank you, but Frances and I have plans to attend a concert tonight, and we have to leave shortly. She mentioned that you were both on a long trip?”

“Yeah, we’re hockey players. But she never mentioned you, Antonio. What is it that you do?”

“I am in the wine business. Are you interested in wine?”

“Oh, I had a glass once, I didn’t really like it,” Jake replied. Antonio laughed politely, but I knew this to be the truth. Jake was not exactly sophisticated. “Well, make sure you have Frances home early tonight. We’ll be waiting up for her.”

Jake stood up, and both he and Luke crossed their arms and tried to look menacing. Antonio didn’t seem to be afraid though. “Frances is a very independent woman, but I will do my utmost to keep her safe.”

And then we left. Antonio opened the door of the car for me and once I was inside I looked back at the house, both of them were still standing in the doorway. I stuck my tongue out at them, then nervously turned to make sure that Antonio couldn’t see how immature I was being. Luckily he hadn’t, and off we went. Were they serious about waiting up for me? No, they had a game tomorrow so most likely they’d be fast asleep.

Jake

Domer and I stayed in the doorway until the Porsche 911 roared out of sight.

“Nice car,” Domer said.

“Crap, how old is that guy?” I wondered. “He’s ancient, like in his thirties for sure. What does Frankie see in an old guy like that?”

“Hard to know. He’s obviously rich, sophisticated, good-looking, and cultured. But beyond that, what’s to like?”

“Exactly! What’s to like? It’s not like he’s really good at a sport or something,” I complained.

Domer started laughing at me. “Let’s go see what’s in the crockpot tonight, Jakester.”

After dinner, Domer and I went out to shoot some pool with Clarkie and Lurch. When we got home, Frankie was still out. I went to the kitchen to get a snack. The cookie tin was empty these days, so I had a bowl of cereal. Domer went to bed early, but I was watching TV when she finally walked in.

“Jake, you’re still up!” Frankie looked pretty much the same as she had when she left. Intact.

“Yeah, what did you and Gramps do tonight?”

“Oh grow up, Jake.” She scowled at me and sat down on the other end of the couch. She slipped off her high heels and rubbed her feet, wincing.

“Blech, I got these new shoes, and I should have broken them in first. They just looked so perfect with this dress.”

She did look pretty; the dress was black lace and a blue colour I liked. She unpinned her hair, and as it fell down around her face, she looked sweet and vulnerable. I felt an ache in my throat, but when I swallowed it went away.

“Give me your feet,” I told her.

She looked at me for a moment, and then swung her feet across the couch to me. I started massaging her feet, and she lay back on the couch. “Oh yeah, that feels so good,” she sighed happily. Touching Frankie again felt good all right, and I could still feel the connection between us. I reached up and grabbed her calf.

“What are you doing?” Frankie raised herself up on her elbows.

“I need you to get closer,” I told her, and I pulled her towards me. That made her skirt ride up, and I could see up her dress. She was wearing panties that were black lace like her dress. Hot. And as I rubbed her feet she was moaning a little, which was also hot. This was getting good.

“Could be even better if I got some body oil,” I told her.

Frankie sat up and looked at me. “Which you happen to have in your magic drawer, right?” Then she pulled her feet away and sat up.

“I better get to bed,” Frankie said. She looked down at the floor and her hair fell around her face so I couldn’t see her expression.

“Really? It’s not that late.” I didn’t even know what time it was, but it seemed like something was going to happen here.

“It’s too late,” she said and grabbed her shoes and headed to her room.

60. Another One Bites the Dust

Since Cameron was genuinely a starving artist, I had had him over for dinner a few times while the guys were on their road trip. I usually invited Sofia, Leon or Franco at the same time since Cameron tended to come on pretty strong. I liked him, but he was too pushy. It was difficult enough for me to date different guys at the same time, without getting physically involved as well.

One time when Cameron came over, he brought a painting.

“What’s this?” I asked. I knew what it was of course, it was one of his smaller paintings that I had admired. Smaller was relative of course, it was still about four feet by four feet.

“It’s a present for you,” Cameron said, with a half-smile on his face.

“I can’t accept this!” I told him firmly. Based on what happened at the auction, this painting was worth at least $10,000, probably more since this one was way better.

“Why not? You’re always making dinner for me, and I’ve nothing to give you.” He gave me a sideways look. “Plus if you wanted to be my girlfriend and sleep with me, it would be entirely appropriate.”

Maybe it was something in the water at Jake’s townhouse, but now I was the one dodging commitment. I shook my head, demanding sarcastically, “Are you suggesting I prostitute myself for art?”

“Why not? I do it daily.” Cameron laughed loudly at this notion.

“Please, sleeping with me would be worth at least one of your large scale canvases,” I assured him.

“Right on! I’ll get my pal, Arthur, to loan me his pick-up truck and bring one over. Any one in particular that you fancy?”

“I’m kidding,” I told him firmly. I was looking at the painting again. It was amazing. I pointed out one section in particular, “I really like this area, the depth of the painted layers gives it such an incredible sense of your process.”

Cameron cocked his head at me. “I don’t know why I trust your opinions, but I do. Perhaps it’s because you’re one of the few people in my life who doesn’t want anything from me,” he said solemnly. “I like my work to be properly appreciated. Look Frankie, you’ve nothing decent here, why don’t you keep the painting? We’ll call it a loan, and I’ll take it back when you return to Canada.”

I resisted a little but finally agreed. I took down one of the ugly prints and put the painting up in its place. I found that I loved looking at it every day; having original art in my life made me happier.

Still that meant that as my part of the deal, I had Cameron over for dinner regularly. The hotplate and toaster oven in his loft were not enough for my cooking aspirations. This had worked out well when the guys were away, but now that they were home, it was going to be trickier. It wasn’t that I thought that Jake particularly cared what I did in my spare time, only that I wanted to be more considerate than he was, and not rub his face in my personal life. And I certainly didn’t want to hear his opinions. I never thought about Antonio’s age before, but now that Jake kept harping on it, I noticed I was becoming more conscious. Jake was like this little irritating voice in my head.