Page 89 of Kiss My Glass
“You could take him some leftovers, Frankie?” Mom says. “After we’ve eaten?”
My first response is that Danny doesn’t deserve them. He shouldbehere! But that’s me being childish and I’m not entirely sure why. I suspect it’s because I resent him taking a little shine off a day that I’d decided was perfect. That’s not his fault in the slightest. I need to suck it up and deal.
Mom serves up dinner. It’s delicious. We all have seconds. Well, I don’t have seconds of the salad, but I didn’t have firsts of it, either. There’s still a good big portion of mac ’n’ cheese left. Damn it. I will take it over to Danny.
“I’ll cover it in foil, so it stays warm,” says Mom. Shelby’s right, she is a witch.
Standing outside Danny’s door, wearing my pink polka-dot dress and holding a casserole dish, I realize I am a living McCall’s magazine advertisement. I feel like I ought to walk inside and make Danny a martini.
He must have heard my car pull up, but then again, he might still be on the phone. It’s okay, I’ll wait. It’s a beautiful warm evening. Birds I cannot identify are still chirping loudly in the trees.
Danny opens his door, phone in his hand. Looks surprised to see me, and not necessarily in a good way.
“I bring food,” I say. “And greetings from the 1950s.”
Finally, he smiles. I am stupidly relieved.
“That is fucking adorable,” he says. “Come inside. I’m still on a call but shouldn’t be too much longer. You can fetch my pipe and slippers while you’re waiting.”
He unmutes his call. “Sorry,” he says to whoever. “You were saying?”
I set the dish on the kitchen counter. Danny’s pacing the small living area, nodding and saying, “Uh huh” and “Sure”, so I can’t tell for the life of me what the conversation is about. Danny normally has a pretty high energy level but it’s dialed all the way up to eleven right now. This is not an ordinary phone call.
A weird anxiety starts to bug me. I really missed having Danny there at dinner, and it occurs to me that I brushed him off this afternoon without a proper explanation. I created a distance between us too casually, without giving it proper thought, and his absence at dinner brought it home to me that I don’t want any distance between us. But that’s all I can feel right now. I’m on the outside of this clearly important conversation, and I’m afraid something seismic is about to happen. A shift that could change everything. Maybe I’ve got a touch of Mom’s witchiness? Or maybe I’m just paranoid? I really wish Danny would end this call soon and put me out of my misery.
He ends the call. Stands there, staring at his blank phone.
“You sell a Lamborghini this time?” I have to make a joke. I’m dying here.
Danny turns to me, blinks a couple of times, like he’s trying to reboot his brain.
“That … was the producer I told you about…”
A look of utter incredulity comes over his face.
“Holy shit, Frankie!” he says. “I’m going to be on TV!”
ChapterFifty
DANNY
Frankie looks like she’s shocked to her core but trying desperately to pretend she’s okay. I’m not sure what I expected her reaction to be. I’m not even sure I know whatmyreaction is. I guess it’s like winning a huge lottery prize. You buy a ticket, never expecting to win, but there’s always that tiny bit of hope. Then – boom – you’re rich! And everything changes!
Oh, fuck. Guess I know why Frankie looks like that. Everything’s changed, and not for the better as far as Frankie’s concerned. She doesn’t want to be part of this new life.
It was bad enough today when I thought I’d lost her to her mom. But that was temporary childish sulks and this is very real. My excitement gives way to a panicky dread.
“I can pull out,” I tell her. “They’ve only agreed to film a pilot, so?—”
“Don’t be stupid,” says Frankie, roughly. “This is amazing. You’ll be great on TV.”
I walk towards her, and see her flinch, like she can’t bear for me to touch her. She might as well have slapped me across the face for the way it hurts.
“Frankie.” I’m pleading and I don’t care. “This is not as important to me as you are. It isnot. Can you please believe me?”
Her mouth is trembling, like she’s doing her utmost not to cry. Or yell.
“But itisimportant,” she says. “It’s a huge, big deal. It’s not something you should give up just like that.” She snaps her fingers. “You’d regret it for the rest of your life.”
