“That’s weird, considering he’s such a tightwad with everyone else. I don’t understand why. He sure makes a ton of money.”
“No kidding,” I say sarcastically. “He stiffed me with the dinner bill from Ortanique when he had to rush to the hospital for a patient.”
Elise’s mouth gapes at my revelation. “He pulled the same stunt on me, more than a few times—and at the same restaurant.”
“You must hate him.”
Elise’s sigh is a combination of despair and disgust. “I do. But he is Jake and Josh’s father,” she says, looking mournful. She puts the other half of her bagel down uneaten and shoves her plate away. “I can’t help wishing that Alex would at least want to see them. The minute he found out I was pregnant, he dumped me.”
I put my bagel down too. Suddenly I have no appetite. “What a creep.”
“I feel so stupid. Why did I surrender to him so completely? He was selfish, sometimes callous. I am not the victim type, but with Alex I sure was an idiot.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“The French call it l’amour fou, you know—crazy love. It takes over your life, your head and your heart…and always ends in heartbreak.” Ironically, I might sound like I’m the expert, but I’m just as confused as she is.
“You’re right,” Elise sobs into her tissue. “He broke my heart, damn him!”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” I say, feeling like a heel.
“It’s not your fault. I can’t seem to keep my emotions in check. My hormones are doing a real number on me.”
“They’ll balance out soon, won’t they?” Elise would know—she’s the nurse, not me. Post-partum must be like a very bad case of PMS.
“It doesn’t help that my sons’ father is a deadbeat asshole.” Elise says bitterly, throwing the wet, crumpled tissue in her purse. “I’m sorry to draw you into this.”
“Don’t apologize. We’re friends.”
“Thanks.” She takes deep, shuddering breaths. “I really appreciate your friendship. I’m glad we work together.”
“Me too,” I say, handing her another tissue when her eyes fill with tears again.
Work. I suddenly remember that I have to get the flash drive from Elise.
“Antoinette told me about the case you’ve been working on,” I say. “She said you have a flash drive for me with all the information.”
“I do…but my office is such a mess right now…” she says, looking overwhelmed.
“Oh, okay, well maybe you can look for it today. Please call me when you find it and I’ll swing by after work to pick it up.”
“Sure.” Elise looks like she’s going through some kind of epiphany as she sits there silently mulling things over. After a weighty pause, she straightens from her slumped position, dries her eyes and blows her nose. Her eyes gleam with purpose and suddenly, the old Elise is back, sitting before me looking empowered. “I just changed my mind.”
“About what?”
“I want to finish the investigation and be the one to report it on air,” she says decisively. I can’t argue with that. I’m thrilled she’s ready to be back in the saddle with a case (whatever it is) that will bolster her career.
“You’re right, Elise. You should break the case, not me,” I agree, riveted by the sudden fire in her eyes.
“I need to prove myself to Antoinette. This case is huge, epic!”
“That’s what Antoinette said. What’s it about?” I ask, dying to know once and for all.
“I can’t get into details now, but it’s going to blow the roof off of Medicare fraud in Miami. As soon as I can, I’ll tell you more.”
“I can’t wait.” I get pinpricks of excitement thinking about Elise’s comeback. “I’m glad you’ll be handling it and not Alex.”
“He’ll be furious he wasn’t privy to it before I report it.”
“Good for you!” I say fervently, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.
“I have to do the right thing…even if it kills me.” Elise’s demeanor changes from defiant back to morose and she looks deflated again.
“Come on now. Let’s see the fiery Elise. You will triumph over Alex and do the right thing. I’m always in awe of how you handle sensitive stories,” I say loyally. Elise is a top-notch reporter with a social conscience.
Elise swallows hard and sets her jaw. “Thanks for saying that, but I haven’t been totally honest with you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask surprised.
“I can’t say more now. I wish I could, but you must trust me. You’ll understand soon enough,” she promises, holding my gaze with determined eyes.
That’s not very reassuring, especially with the gritty look on Elise’s face.
Romeo: Feelin’ grumpy today. No sleep last night. Francesca kept tossing around and moaning in her sleep.
No fooling around either. If Francesca lets Harrison and Fizzy hook up, I’m in the outhouse. I’m no competition for Scout! Who can complete with that Herculean dog?
Stop being stubborn, lady, and reclaim your main man, Harrison. I was holding off on Plan B, but you’ve forced my paw.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’ve been holed up in my cubicle working like a fiend all morning, making phone calls for my Bowled Over event and prodding Vinny to follow up on details about the upcoming Food and Wine Festival. Now I’m stretching my back and doing shoulder rolls to ease the kinks in my neck. It’s time to take a break and give Antoinette an update on things before she goes to lunch.
Passing by Vinny, I say, “Hey, Vinn. Stop in to see me later. There’s new stuff we need to go over for Bowled Over.”
“D’accord, cherie,” he says with a wink.
I take it that means “sure” or something like that in French. With Vinny you never know. I smile at him and head toward Antoinette’s office.
Her door is closed which means she must be on a phone call. No sense in standing out here speculating. I give three bold knocks on the door and wait for her to answer.
“Come in,” Antoinette calls out.
I open the door and freeze when I see Alex’s back. There’s no mistaking the arrogant set of his dark head and broad shoulders. He is sitting across from Antoinette’s desk and they seem to be reviewing papers.
Antoinette glances up and her face turns peevish when she realizes it’s me. Today she resembles a life size daisy in a sleeveless yellow chiffon blouse that ties into a coquettish bow at the side of her neck tucked into an ivory gathered skirt. Her long blond hair is swept up a la Ivana Trump in a stiff French twist with thick bangs covering her forehead. Heavy citrine and diamond earrings in the shape of daisies make her earlobes droop.
“What is it, Francesca?” she asks, clearly annoyed by my interruption.
Alex turns and regards me with chilling, lethal eyes.
“Francesca,” he says, giving me a cold nod.
I return his nod. “Alex,” I say in a professional manner.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting, Antoinette.” I get close enough to her desk to see that they are going over Alex’s employment contract.
“What do you need?” she snaps.
“I wanted to give you some figures pertaining to Bowled Over.” I hand her the paper. “I also wanted to talk to you about some other things.” I glance meaningfully at Alex. “But it can wait.”
“Francesca probably wants to tell you that I won’t be chairing the bowling event. I have a schedule conflict for next Saturday,” Alex says, surprising me.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear it.” Antoinette says, very disappointed. She looks at me as if it’s all my fault. “Who are you going to get at this late date, Francesca?”
“I already resolved it. Dr. Hamme has agreed to host it,” I say with a lift of my chin.
Antoinette looks stunned. Her attitude changes from churlish to delighted at the mere mention of Dr. Hamme. “Oh…very good! Everything is coming to form. Of course, it is a pity that you can’t make it, Al
ex, but Devon will do fine. Just fine!” Antoinette exclaims, confirming my suspicion that she has the hots for Devon.
“I see you’re busy. I’ll come back later,” I say, inching out the door.
I exit before Alex has a chance to say anything. Thank God, he didn’t mention last night. I was fully expecting him to complain to Antoinette about me.
From the looks of it, Alex is going to be the interim medical reporter. Maybe he’ll act civil toward me until Elise comes back. He and Antoinette looked pretty chummy there.
Elise better get a move on fast!
Moments later, I’m back in my cubicle going over the Bowled Over VIP list with Vinny, when Alex stops by unannounced.
“I need to talk to you,” he says, staring at me with a curt look that says, “get up now”.
“Sorry, this isn’t a good time. We’re having a meeting.” I gesture toward Vinny, who is staring at us wide-eyed.
“Call me later. I expect an apology for last night. My mother deserves one too,” Alex orders and turns on his heel.
“When pigs fly,” I mutter under my breath.
Vinny frowns at Alex’s retreating back. “Wonder what he ate for breakfast? Garbage?” he asks, pronouncing it with a French accent.
“He probably stuffed his face with a dozen guava pastelitos,” I retort.
“Really?” Vinny asks, surprised.
I nod. “I’m afraid so. By the way, Dr. Hamme will be replacing Dr. Escobar next Saturday as our host,” I say nonchalantly.
Vinny grins. “Oh? How come?”
“Scheduling conflict.” No sense in fueling Vinny’s unquenchable thirst for gossip.
He wiggles his eyebrows up and down. “Someone must be très happy that she’ll be getting a taste of Dr. Deviled Ham,” he says gesturing toward Antoinette’s office.
Giggling, I place a finger over my lips and silently shush him. “We’re going to be blitzing the airwaves between now and next Saturday with fifteen second spots about Bowled Over,” I say, getting back to business.
Seconds later, we almost lose it when Antoinette appears at my cubicle.
“I’m going to a lunch appointment,” she announces, looking rushed. “What did you want to tell me earlier, Francesca?”
“Um,” I hesitate before giving Vinny a meaningful look. “Vinny, can you please take the VIP list and follow up on it at your desk? I need to chat with Antoinette.”
“Sure thing.” He leaves the room with his head bowed deferentially for Antoinette’s benefit.
Antoinette stands by my desk and crosses her arms as she stares down at me. “Did you get the flash drive from Elise?”
My heart races. I hope she doesn’t get mad that Elise changed her mind about giving it to me.
I brace myself for a tirade and say, “Actually…no. Elise told me she wants to finish the investigation herself. She’s planning on reporting it when she returns from maternity leave.”
Antoinette’s eyes narrow into slits as she regards me with suspicion. “Why did she change her mind?”
“Well…” I falter. I don’t know what to say. I have no idea why Elise changed her mind.
“Never mind.” Antoinette waves an impatient hand at me. “You can get back to what you were doing. I’ll ask Elise myself.”
Before I get a chance to respond, Antoinette leaves.
The minute I see her exit through the large glass doors, I dial up Elise and warn her that Antoinette will be calling for explanations.
After work, I swing by Peruano’s Chicken and pick up dinner. As soon as Romeo and I eat, I’m going to take a nice warm shower and dive into bed. I am exhausted from barely sleeping last night and all the crazy events that led up to it.
“Mommy has a yummy surprise for you,” I sing as soon as I open my apartment door.
Romeo greets me with licks and little bouncy steps, his tail wagging joyfully. As soon as he gets a whiff of the bag I’m carrying, his pointy little snout starts twitching in a frenzied way.
“I’ll feed you in a sec. But first I have to recharge my phone,” I tell him. “I left it on last night and forgot to recharge this morning.” Romeo loves when I have conversations with him. He parks himself at my feet and cranes his head to listen intently. It’s uncanny how he makes noises reacting to what I’m telling him. I swear he understands everything I say. Today he gives a grumbling sigh as if he’s not surprised.
I wonder if Fizzy tried to call me today. I pass by the phone on my kitchen wall and notice the answering machine isn’t flashing with messages. While I feast on Peruvian style rotisserie chicken, red beans, rice and fried plantains, Romeo devours his portion of chicken. He is eating so fast, he’s barely chewing. Suddenly, he starts coughing.
“Hey, buddy, you okay?” I ask, patting his back. “Slow down or you’ll choke.”
The minute I say that, Romeo’s coughs turn into gagging sounds and I wonder if he’s going to throw up. He begins to do a strange dance, his hot dog torso flip-flopping from side to side while he makes strangling noises.
“Romeo, baby, what’s wrong?” I ask paralyzed with fear. Even though I carefully eliminated chicken bones before filling his bowl, a tiny bone might have escaped. Tiny enough to lodge inside and kill him! I lift Romeo and perform a Heimlich maneuver, pressing sharply between the bony ridges of his ribs. A small piece of chicken flies out of his mouth, but he’s still making gurgling noises.
He needs Harrison—I need Harrison—now!
I throw a clean dishtowel over Romeo’s twitching body and dash toward the elevator, without bothering to lock my front door. Within seconds I’m ringing Harrison’s doorbell and banging hard on his door.
Harrison flings the door open. “Where’s the fire?” he demands, but when he sees me his tone cools. “Oh…it’s you. What’s wrong?”
I note the wariness in Harrison’s eyes and his lack of enthusiasm at seeing me, but this isn’t the time to worry about it. Romeo is in a crisis!
“Romeo just had another seizure. Look at him, he’s still shaking and drooling and his eyes look like they’re popping out of his head. He started making gurgling noises like he was choking, so I did the Heimlich on him, but only a small piece of chicken flew out!” I blabber.
“Calm down, Frankie.” Harrison takes Romeo from my arms. “He seems to be okay now.”
Harrison’s right. All of a sudden, Romeo does seem okay. In fact, he looks like he was never in a crisis. I can’t believe he’s gazing at Harrison with huge, adoring eyes.
“I gave him grilled chicken from Peruano’s. It’s marinated in Peruvian mojo. Do you think he might have had an allergic reaction?”
“I doubt it.” Harrison pets Romeo as he studies him intently. I wish he’d pet me…
Female laughter comes from his living room and I turn to see who else is there. As I go further inside, I realize it’s Fizzy on his couch with Scout draped across her lap. She’s leaning back, comfy as you please, petting Harrison’s dog.
With a pang, I have a vivid flashback of Harrison kissing me on that same couch. I peek at Harrison and see that he’s watching me with bemused, dark green eyes.
“Fizzy!” I walk toward her wondering why the hell she’s been MIA. “Where have you been?”
“What do you mean?” she asks, surprised.
In a snug green tee that strains over her full breasts and faded jeans that hug her curvy hips, Fizzy looks sexy with her loose red curls, big blue eyes and porcelain skin. I probably look like a wilted weed. My nose must be shiny from the ninety percent humidity outside and by now my mascara must be smeared under my eyes.
Scout scrambles off the couch and welcomes Romeo with loud barks. Romeo squirms in Harrison’s arms until he lets him down. The two dogs start sniffing each other and frolicking around the apartment.
“Why didn’t you call me back last night? I waited up to hear from you,” I ask Fizzy, softening my tone on the last question so I don’t sound like I’m guilting her.
“I’m sorry, b
ut by the time the game was over, it was late and I knew you had an early morning today,” she says with a friendly smile.
“Oh.” I pause. “Aren’t you working tonight?” I am not thrilled to find Fizzy lounging on Harrison’s couch.
“Things have been slow this week. The parking lot in front of the bar is still torn up. It’s killing business. Brett said not to even come in tonight,” she says.
“Oh.” The room grows silent, save for the dogs’ ruckus. I can’t believe I feel tongue-tied around my good friend, Fizz. It’s depressing.
“Fizzy’s going to work part-time at my office,” Harrison offers good-naturedly, cutting the tension in the room.
“Oh,” I say for the third time in ten minutes. I must sound like a real drip, but I’m trying not to show how distraught I am at finding them together in his apartment.
“Yeah, I can use the extra dough. And we both know how much I love animals,” Fizzy says, looking pleased.
“Congrats. You’re perfect for the job,” I say in all honesty.
“Thanks,” Fizzy says. “Hey, Frankie, we were talking about having Coquette spayed. Is Romeo neutered?”
Romeo comes to a screeching halt in front of us. His ears pull back and he starts to growl, baring his pointy teeth at us. There’s the proof that he understood what Fizzy said. Smart doggy, Romeo.
“I don’t want to have Romeo neutered until he can sire puppies. Neither does he,” I say loyally.
“You might consider changing your mind, Frankie. I suggested to Fizzy that Coquette should be spayed before Romeo gets to her first,” Harrison says.
Romeo lets out a whining moan that hurts my ears and then his little body crumples into a lump of gloominess on my feet. I pick him up and cuddle him close. Romeo buries his nose in the crook of my neck and whimpers.
“Maybe we should cover his ears,” Harrison jokes.
“Don’t kid about it. Romeo understands English,” I say. “What about Scout? Has he been neutered?”
“Of course,” Harrison replies, as if it’s a no-brainer. “I recommend neutering all dogs. And I recommend it for Romeo.”
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