I figured Maxine probably had bathroom trips preplanned and efficiently choreographed.
Melissa JensenThe book was sandwiched firmly between Analytic Keys to the Genera and Species of North American Mosses, and the Complete English-Russian Dictionary by A. Alexandrow, which had me actually speculating on just what terrible crimes I might have committed against love and peace in a former life to have earned myself this one.
Melissa JensenAn hour later, proven absolutely right, I slid the last drawer closed, sat on the dusty floor, and had a good, sorry=for-myself "what now?" moment.
Melissa JensenI am going to end up alone," he moaned.
"Not in any conceivable universe!" One of Sadie's best qualities is the ability to say "Are you effing insane?" with such sweet conviction and nicer words.
"I am going to end up alone in a one-room apartment over a dry cleaner."
"A dry cleaner?"
"He could have said a bar," I offered.
"True," he conceded.
Frankie was on a roll. "I am going to end up alone in a one-room apartment over a dry cleaner with a cat. Who bites me."
"Oh,Frankie-"
"I am going to end up alone in a one-room apartment over a dry cleaner with a cat who bites me and pees in my closet full of moth-eaten sweaters."
"Well,maybe," Sadie said, reaching around to hug both of us. "But the sweaters will be Dolce
It is time,my darling."
"Oh,Frankie,no-"
"You chose dare," he reminded her.
"I did," she agreed sadly, stepping up. "You're right."
It hadn't been entirely fair of him, starting the game in the middle of Neiman Marcus. The King of Prussia Mall, a zillion acres of retail-and-food-in-a-box, is many people's idea of perfect therapy. Me? If given the choice, I might opt for swimming with sharks instead. But today was about Frankie.
"So," he told her, "I pick out three outfits,head to toe. You put them on."
"Fine." Sadie pulled her jacket closer around her.This one was a muddy pruple, and had a third sleeve stitched tot he back. "But if you pick anything like that"- she pointed to a tiny tartan dress that seemed to be missing its entire back- "I will cry."
"Have faith," he replied with a slightly twisted smile, and dragged her toward women's sportswear. "What our sport is," he said apropos of very little save the sign on the wall, "I have no idea."
Ten minutes later, Sadie was heading into the dressing room with an armful of autumn color and a look like she was on her way off a cliff.
Frankie turned back and forth in front of the three-way mirror. "I have absolutely no ass whatsoever."
A few feet away,a woman whose designer velour fit her like a sausage casing, gave an amused snort. "Honey," she said over a display of two-hundred-dollar T-shirts. "I have been waiting forty years to say those words."
Frankie padded toward her in his socks and Alexander McQuenn pants.He thrust his hands into the pockets, pulling the fabric tighter, and presented her with his outthrust bottom. "Honestly. This is what you want?"
She lasted about five seconds before grinning-and sighing at the same time. "No,I guess not."
He turned around, leaned in, and informed her conspiratorially, "There is not a T-shirt on earth worth that much."
She looked down at the plain blue cotton in her hands. "You are so right." She put it back. "And with that face, sweetie, you could have the ass of a rhino and no one would notice.I'm just saying."
"What does she know?" he muttered when she'd gone. "What good has this face done me?"
Apparently, Connor hadn't been quite as available as he'd let on. Apparently, along with dancing, juggling was one of his talents.
"You couldn't have known," Sadie said gently.
"Oh,yes,I could.I mean, he's a guy,isn't he?"
There's not much you can say to a boy when he makes a statement like that. So we just scooted in until we were up against Frankie's thin shoulders, bookending him.
Truth or dare."
"Not fair. You already had a turn."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this little excursion was to make me happy."
I sighed, knowing I'd already lost. "You're right."
"DO I look happy to you?" He visibly deflated in his seat and pulled down the corners of his mouth. He looked like a very pretty scarecrow. "Well?"
"No,Mr. Hobbes, you do not look happy."
"So..."
I eyed the racks around us. There seemed to be an awful lot of jungle and orange. "If I say 'dare,' are you going to make me put on leopord print?"
"I might."
"If I take 'truth,' will you promise not to ask any more questions about Alex?"
"I will not.
I Can't Make You Love Me.' Bonnie Raitt."
"Oh,Fiorella."
I glared at him a little as I climbed down. "Was that delightful list for your benefit or mine?"
Frankie grabbed my hand and, when I didn't pull away fast enough, tugged me onto his lap,where he wrapped his arms so tightly around me that I couldn't escape. Sometimes his strength still surprises me.He tickled my cheek with his nose. "Don't hate me just because I'm hateful."
"I never do."
Here's the thing. Frankie's taken a lot of hits in his life. He never stays down for long.
"Excuse me!" The mannequin's evil twin was glaring down at us fro her sky-high bootie-heeled heights. Her NM badge told us her name was Victoria. "You cannot do that here!" she snapped.
"Do what?" Frankie returned, matching lockjaw snooty for lockjaw snooty.
She opened and closed her mouth, then hissed, "Canoodle!"
I felt Frankie's hiccup of amusement. "Were we canoodling, snookums?" he asked me. "I rather thought we were about to copulate like bunnies."
I couldn't help it; I laughed out loud. Victoria's mouth thinned into a pale line. The whole thing might have ended with our being escorted out the store's hallowed doors by security. Sadie, as she so often did, momentarily saved us from ourselves.
She stomped out of the dressing room and planted herself in front of us. Ignoring the angry salesgirl completely, she muttered, "I look like a carved pumpkin!"
Frankie took in the skirt, layered shirts, and jacket. "You do not, but I might have been having an overly Michael Kors moment. This will not do for a date.Take it off." He nudged me, then added, "Right here.Every last stitch of it."
As soon as Sadie was back in her own clothing and coat-which got an unwilling frown of respect from Victoria; apparently even Neiman Maruc doesn't carry that line-we moved on. Sadie did better in Frankie's second choice-a lip-printed sweater dress from Betsey Johnson,but wouldn't buy it.
"We're just going to a movie!" she protested. "Besides,Jared's not...not..." She gestured down at her lippy hips. "He's practical and sensible and quiet."
"Oh,my God!" Frankie slapped both palms to the side of his face,and turned to me. "Sadie has a date with a Prius!"
He had to invoke the sanctity of Truth or Dare before he could even get her into Urban Outfitters. "Sometimes I love you less than other times," she grumbled as he filled her arms with his last choices.
"No,you don't," he said cheerfully, and sent her off to change.
I'd given the bare minimum of info-especially after-hypocrite that he is-Frankie made such dramatic gagging motions at my description of the Mustang that a passing shopper had asked if she should call 911.
So I braced myself. "Dare."
Frankie's brows went up. "Well. All right,then." He scanned the floor. "I dare you to stand up next to that mannequin over there,and list the five best Unrequited Love songs of all time.
Forty percent off. Come on, Ella, it's a sign."
"Yeah. 'Stop.'" I took the sweater from his hands and holded it neatly into thirds. "Truth or Truth?"
He propped a hip on the edge of the display table. "Shoot."
"WHo are you dressing me for? I mean, really? The three nonrelated men playing any part whatsoever in my life right now are, and I will use your terms here, the spawn of Society Hell, dead as the spat, and queer as a football bat."
"Very poetic."
"Bite me."
"Wrong man," Frankie drawled. "That would be the inclination of the hell spawn."
I bared my teeth. "So,who,Frankie? Who is this for?" I waved the sweater. "I just don't get it."
"I know,Grasshopper," he said sadly, "I know."
I blinked at him. "Where-" That's as far as I got. Sadie had come out of the dressing room.
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