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“Nice suit, by the way.”
Her tone is too suggestive to ignore.
“Had a meeting,” I answer, taking a step toward her. “Nice dress.”
She wants to kiss me too.
But this isn’t real, not yet. We’ve been playacting, more to ourselves than anyone.
That ends today.
“Come on, let me show you around.”
If she’s disappointed we don’t immediately attack each other, I get it. I am too. But with any luck, we’ll clear some things up. After all, she’s here. And that’s all that matters. There’s no reporter following her, no other reason to be here right now than why I showed up at her place yesterday.
“A friend of my mother’s helped with the interior design,” I say as we walk through the tables toward the kitchen. “Just like yours. The photos are all ones from my parents’ personal collection.”
She moves toward one in particular. “No way?”
Evie stands in front of a black and white photo of my dad and Ol’ Blue Eyes.
“Yep. Atlantic City. Mid-seventies. I think it’s part of the reason he’s such a fan. He went to the 500 Club with my uncle to hear him play. Later that night, Dad was waiting outside the men’s room when Sinatra came out. My father must have looked surprised, and maybe a little in awe. He clapped my father on the back, called to someone in the crowd, and then turned. Sinatra’s companion snapped this picture just before he shook my dad’s hand and thanked him for coming. The other guy took Dad’s address, and that showed up in the mail.”
“Holy shit, that is so cool. Your dad met Frank Sinatra.”
“Yep. They talked for a few minutes; Sinatra asked where my dad was from. Ever since, he literally listens to nothing else. I wish I was exaggerating.”
She is so close to me, I can still smell raspberries.
“I think it’s cute.”
She would. Evie is part pit bull, as goal-driven as me, and part saint. My judgment may be clouded, but Evie might be one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Brax.”
We head into the kitchen, where Brax is clearly not expecting us.
“Holy shit on a stick!” He jumps up and just about runs toward us. I’ve never seen Brax move that quickly in my entire life. “Evie fricking Fuller. What the hell are you doing in here with this clown?”
She laughs, hugging him. “Getting a tour of the place.”
I look between them, fully aware of the nasty green-eyed monster whose sudden presence is most unwelcome.
Brax is recently divorced, a good-looking guy, and is hugging Evie for a really long time.That’s enough, buddy.
Finally, they disengage. Jesus, took long enough.
She looks at me and explains.
“Brax’s father and mine were best friends. We basically grew up together.”
How did I not know that? I consider Brax a friend as well as an employee. But the Fullers never came up in conversation. I think back to the funeral. Brax was out of town at the time, I think. A last-ditch effort to save his marriage. So he wasn’t there.
“She’s the one that got away,” Brax says, not making the situation any better.
“Hardly.” Evie laughs. “We went on one date,” she explains. “When was that exactly?”
They went on adate?
