Page 36 of Playing for Keeps

“Oh good, you’re here!” she said, phone still stuck to her ear. “I wasn’t sure this was you.”

“Come on in.”

The look on Frankie’s face when she walked into my apartment made me conscious of the huge disparity between us. My living room and kitchen could easily fit inside her office at her condo, my entire apartment small enough to fit inside her own living room. Second-hand furniture littered the space, the brown, faux leather couch sitting beside mismatched green and orange arm chairs.

It was nothing compared to hers.

“Nice place,” Frankie said, turning her pretty face toward me and offering a smile that looked more like a grimace.

My fingers clutched at my necklace, and I tried not to let that disparity bother me. Frankie couldn’t understand what it meant to be poor. To have to scrape together the bare minimum that Kelly and I had. Frankie had purchased her enormous condo with cash and had it fully furnished with all the highest-end things you could imagine in under a week.

“Uh, thanks,” I murmured, my hands feeling all twitchy and sweaty. “Can I help you with any of that?”

“Sure!” Frankie slid one of the totes off her shoulder. “These are all the invitations and envelopes. And these,” she said, holding up the other bag, “are for us.”

She pulled out a bottle of Moscato and tipped it my way, the grin on her face looking like we were doing something wrong. I set the heavy tote she handed me on the coffee table, then led her to the kitchen. Frankie pulled the makings of a charcuterie board out of the tote while I opened the wine and pulled out some glasses. She hummed quietly to herself as she unpacked the meats and cheeses and all the other fixings, and spread them out on the long wooden board.

“Wow,” Kelly said, coming up behind Frankie and peering over her shoulder. “That’s quite the spread.”

“You want some?” Frankie asked, grabbing her wine glass and bringing it to her lips. “Bianca put it all together for me, and I’m afraid it might be too much.”

Bianca.

Frankie and Corey’s maid.

Because, of course, the rich girl couldn’t make her own snack.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Kelly snatched a chocolate-covered strawberry off the board and shoved it into her mouth, then motioned to me to give her my drink.

“That’s not a good look on you,” I told her, my finger painting a circle in the air around her bulging cheeks. Laughing at her lopsided scowl, I passed off the glass of wine and grabbed another for myself.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me with this,” Frankie told me as we settled in the living room, our snacks and wine taking precedence over the reason she’d come over in the first place. “Vivian’s been so busy with the dresses, and she and Mitch flew back to Seattle to see his friend, and I just... I’m feeling a bit flustered, you know? I wanted to do this myself. Plan the wedding and send out the invitations and do all the things. But it’s a lot to do.”

“It’s not a problem,” I told her. “I’m happy to help.”

Kelly grabbed a slice of salami and some cheese off the board before draping herself across one of the arm chairs. “You’re one the bridesmaids, right?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“We’re doing things a bit non-traditionally. Jen is standing up for Corey, along with two of his best friends.”

“Who’re your bridesmaids?”

“Mitch is my man of honor,” Frankie said before taking a sip from her glass. “And then my cousins, Vivian and Vinny, are my other attendants.”

Though I refused to look her way, I could feel Kelly’s gaze cutting through me like a hot knife. I forced the mouthful of cheese and cracker down my throat. Took a sip of my wine. Rifled through the tote on the table, pulling out the pre-printed invitations and a box of envelopes.

Oblivious to my strangled heart, Frankie prattled on. “There’s just so much to do. I know I could have hired someone to do all this for me, but this is my wedding. I want it to be special. I want to remember everything and not just write a check and show up day of and have that be that.”

Frankie grabbed for a box of envelopes and tore the shrink wrap open. “Poor Vivian, she’s being a trooper. With everything that happened this summer, I don’t want to ask too much. And Mitch. Well. Let’s face it, his handwriting looks like shit. There’s no way I could ask him for help. The post office would probably trash everything he touched because they wouldn’t be able to read where it came from or where it was supposed to go!”

“What about Vinny?” Kelly asked, her hand snaking out to the board right in front of me, snatching another strawberry and lingering, as if she was trying to get my attention.

As if my attention wasn’t already on high alert for any and every mention of the man.

Frankie heaved a sigh. “I don’t know. He’s busy. Always busy. Seems he’s jetting off to someplace or the other every other week. It’s not like it’s new. He’s always been like that. Chasing girls. Going to parties. But after this summer...”

My mind shut down, unwilling and unable to listen to any more. I drained my glass of Moscato, then left Frankie to her arduous rambling in search of a refill. I considered the bottle of vodka in the freezer for a full minute before looking at the clock on the stove.