“Girl, I love your dress!” Frankie beams. “Is Balmain not the best designer ever? Fits like a glove. Fred could barely keep his hands off me in the car.”
I guess in Frankie’s case, she enjoys not being the only one half-dressed for dinner.
“I’m sure you had the same problem, Barrett.” She winks at me while waving her nails playfully. Her nails are just as long as they were last week when I met her at the wedding, but they have a new design. Pink, orange and yellow layered. They look like a blinding sunset.
“This was a gift from Barrett.” Chloe smiles sweetly. “We actually didn’t ride together. Barrett was working, so we met here.”
“He’s got fabulous taste,” Frankie replies.
“Working on a Saturday?” Fred admonishes.
“Chloe had some friends in town so I made myself scarce.” It’s a half truth.
Fred nods. “Ah. Well, it’s important to find balance.”
“We were in bed most of the day,” Frankie winks again, her exceptionally long lashes sticking for a moment before retracting, “but we didn’t rest, if you know what I mean.”
I know what she means, and it’s the last thing I want to think about before I eat dinner.
I move for the seat next to Fred, but when I pull out the chair, Chloe drops into it. Now any conversation I try to have with him will be crossing through the table.
“Let’s get some drinks.” Fred motions for the waiter.
When the waiter arrives, Fred orders a Manhattan for himself and a sex on the beach for Frankie.
“He knows what I like.” Frankie places a kiss on Fred’s cheek. “It also happens to be my favorite drink.”
Chloe’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head. It’s hard to tell if she’s overwhelmed by Frankie’s directness or the drink menu.
“Do you want me to order for you?” I ask her.
“Yes, please.” She sighs, placing the menu back on the table.
“You should try a sex on the beach. They’re delicious.”
“Okay,” Chloe agrees.
When our drinks arrive, Chloe takes a sip of her drink and winces.
“Isn’t it fabulous?” Frankie asks, raising her cocktail glass toward Chloe.
“Absolutely.” But I can hear Chloe stifling a cough as she extends her glass to Frankie.
“First sip is always a little spicy. These remind me of Florida. I grew up there.”
Chloe takes another sip.
“Did you live by the water?” she asks Frankie.
“Daytona Beach.”
“I bet that was nice. I’m from Colorado. Buena Vista. It’s a small town.”
“Oh, is it near Aspen? Fred has a place in Aspen.” Frankie leans closer, pressing her breasts into Fred’s arm.
Chloe nods. “It’s close by.”
“Have you skied Aspen?” Frankie asks.
“We weren’t skiers growing up. With the equipment, lift tickets and all the other gear, ski days were too expensive with five kids.”
“Five kids?” The question falls out of my mouth before I realize this is surely something I would know about Chloe if we were really dating.
Everyone’s eyes shift toward me.
“Five kids! It’s still a shock even after all this time,” I reply while internally chastising myself for making this mistake.
“How long have you been dating?” Fred asks.
“Six months,” I reply as Chloe responds, “Three months.”
“Oh. I guess it’s been six.” Chloe nods before burying her face in the menu.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” Fred kisses Frankie on the cheek.
“What about you two?” I ask, trying desperately to steer the conversation away from Chloe and me. “How long has it been?”
“Six weeks on Tuesday,” Fred announces. “I asked her to move in with me on our second date.”
“Oh wow.” Chloe’s smile is tight. I can tell she thinks that’s insane. It is, but we’re not here to judge Fred and Frankie’s relationship. I’m here to help Fred see that I’m the man he needs to sell his company to.
“I just knew when I saw her.” Fred gazes adoringly at Frankie. “She was playing tennis at The Racquet Club. Her ball kept landing in my court. She was pretty bad, so I offered to give her a lesson.”
“Then I reciprocated.” Frankie purses her lips, a devilish look on her face.
Chloe is mid-drink and starts sputtering. She coughs repeatedly so I place my hand on her back to offer her comfort. The second my hand makes contact with her body, she jolts upright in her seat, the top knee of her crossed legs banging into the underside of the table. The liquid in our glasses sways with the aftershocks.