Frank felt lucky. She swallowed the bait.
“Really? Thank you so much! I hope I won’t be a burden,” he said.
“What are you talking about? Of course not! Look what happened! I have to help you. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
She loves me.
Frank grasped the bills in his fist and waited for a heavy man in a rumpled Hawaiian shirt to get into his car. The man swayed, walking out of the café and rubbing his eyes. He held a large cup of coffee in his hand. Poor fellow, no rest at night.
“I’ll wait for you at the hospital?” Frank asked.
“Yes, relax, don’t think about anything. Everything will be fine. I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you. I’m waiting.”
Frank turned off the phone and smiled.
“Everything is for the best,” he said, calculating the time. She needed at least thirty minutes to get ready and another twenty to drive here. He could buy coffee and get to the hospital before she arrived to pick him up.
He left the cafe with a paper cup of hot coffee and looked around after opening the lid. He closed his eyes and splashed half of the contents on his arm. He gritted his teeth in pain, but didn’t curse outside. His skin would become red and swollen as it always happened when hot liquid contacted it. Fire burns looked different, but Margo wasn’t a specialist in this field as far as Frank knew. He had a first aid-kit in the car and he could make a perfect bandage just like Tiffany taught him. Frank also smothered his arm with some pain relief cream right after he got into the car. His skin burned like a bitch and Frank swore and groaned, but he believed that the reward was worth the sacrifice.
CHAPTER 10
Frank finished his first cup of coffee then bought another one in the hospital cafe, but Margo hadn’t shown up. It irritated him at first, and then stressed him out, so he called her again. He began stressing out even more when she answered only after his third call and said she was on her way. Frank told her to go fuck herself, mentally, and sat on a bench near the hospital to wait some more. Although the sun didn’t rise yet, it was still hot outside and Frank began to sweat, thinking there had been no point in squatting and jumping.
By the time Margo finally showed up, Frank’s T-shirt was wet and his head was on fire from anger. He smiled as soon as he saw her in the car. Her face was worried, but she looked polished, as if she had just left a beauty salon and wasn’t in a hurry to see her lover who had suffered under tragic circumstances.
“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting, Honey! How are you?” she asked as soon as she got out of the car.
Frank closed his eyes for a second then threw his cup into the trash, and the rest of the coffee splashed across the pavement.
“I still can’t believe it,” he said.
They got into the car. Margo helped him, but she didn’t comment on his bandaged arm like she didn’t even notice it. Did he suffer for nothing?
He leaned back in his seat and talked about what had happened. Or about what didn’t happen. Margo listened attentively and nodded sympathetically. She was a kind, caring woman. Why did he think it might be difficult with her?
Frank went to the shower almost immediately after they arrived home, making a stop in the kitchen to drink water. Margo offered him her ex-husband’s clothes that should fit him. Frank hated wearing other people’s clothes and especially if those people were dead, but he had no choice and accepted the plastic bag filled with garments from Margo. They really were the right size for him and Frank thought about his similarity to Margo’s first husband again. He didn’t really care, but still decided to find some pictures of her ex-husband to see if they resembled each other. Just out of curiosity.
The doorbell rang soon after Frank left the shower and Margo said that it was food. She went to open the door and Frank heard her voice after a few seconds.
“Did you go to Palm Beach to buy food?” Margo asked.
“Fort Lauderdale.”
Frank could barely hear her because Daisy spoke so quietly. She came into the living room after a few seconds, quickly greeted Frank, and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Are you going to eat now?” she asked.
“Of course,” Margo answered, also walking into the kitchen. Daisy strode into the living room a few minutes later. Frank was watching television when she called him to the table.
“Thank you,” Frank said, turning off the TV and getting off the couch. He hoped that Margo wouldn’t watch the news. They shouldn’t show the burned house, but they could.
“What happened to your arm?” Daisy asked.
“I lost my house in a fire last night.” Frank sighed.
“What?” Daisy’s eyes rounded. “Oh, my God! Is it destroyed completely? Where were you? This is horrible!”
“Tell me about it,” Frank said.
“My God! I’m so sorry.”
“Michael!” Margo yelled from the kitchen. “The food is getting cold!”
“I’m coming, dear!”
“I’m so sorry,” Daisy repeated. He patted her on the shoulder, thinking that she would definitely sleep with him now and headed to the kitchen.
There were plates with rolls and croissants on the table. His woman prepared breakfast for him even though she used the hands and time of another person. He sat down and began to eat even though he would prefer eggs and bacon instead of sweets. He also thought about champagne again to celebrate such a great deal. He was a brilliant musician and Margo was an obedient instrument.
“You have a lot to do today,” Margo said after a brief exchange about food and the events of last night.
“I already talked to the insurance company. They will have to go to the scene, assess the situation, talk to the police, investigate. All that stuff.”
“I know. The whole bureaucracy thing.” Margo nodded. “How much time will it take?”
This lady cared about money almost as much as he did.
“Oh, I hope I won’t bother you,” he said as if he was worried. He always drove people into a deep pit. The only way they would get out of there was by using the rope he threw to them.
“No, no,” Margo answered what he had expected to hear from her. “Stay as long as you have to.”
“Thank you, dear. What would I do without you?” Frank looked at Margo faithfully.
“Of course. I’m happy to help you. This is so terrible, I can’t get over it. I hope they’ll find out what happened.”
He hoped so too and after they ate, he suggested to Margo that they go to the ruins of his home. He was sure that a visual demonstration would strengthen his cause.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes. I need to go to the bank first, get some money. I’ve got nothing on me.”
Margo didn’t offer him any money, unfortunately. He didn’t like it, but preferred not to think about it now. He was sure she just wasn’t ready.
In the afternoon, Frank dressed in the clothes of Margo’s dead husband and they went to see the house. Frank checked the place before taking Margo there, telling her he was visiting the bank. Everything remained as he had expected. Ashes, the yellow police tape, and rare onlookers who either heard about the fire or just drove past.
“Let’s stop at the store,” Frank said as they were ready to go. “I want to put flowers on my Phoebe’s grave.”
“Who’s Phoebe?” Margo asked.
“My cat,” Frank said. Why couldn’t she remember it?
“Poor Phoebe,” Margo said.
“I have no idea what flowers to buy,” Frank complained. He didn’t want to waste his time or money on stupid flowers even though it was a great idea and Margo passed along the chore of purchasing flowers to Daisy.
When they arrived at the place, Frank asked Margo to wait for him in the car. It was enough for her to see the ruins from afar, without going any closer, especially since there was another man besides them. Margo would see the miserable sight from the window of the car a
nd let him stay with her as long as he needed.
Margo obeyed him and Frank went alone to the house, hoping the guy, who came here for no reason, would leave and not ask questions. The guy noticed the flowers in Frank’s hand and did exactly what Frank didn’t want him to do.
“Your friends’ house?” he asked.
Frank look at him. He was about twenty-five, with his hands in his pockets and chewing some gum.
“Yes.”
“Did anyone die?”
“No.”
The guy nodded and then went to his sports car that was parked across the street. Frank got lucky once again. It could be the owners’ son or someone else who knew them.
He heard footsteps behind him after laying the flowers on the ashes and saw Margo a second later. She stopped beside him, regarding the ruins.
“Poor Phoebe,” Frank sighed, wiping a single tear. He had to look at the sun to get it out.
“I know,” Margo agreed. There was so much sympathy in her voice. Maybe she was sympathetic to Frank, maybe she loved animals. They observed everything for a few more minutes: the charred tree, pieces of furniture spiking in the air, broken windows.
“I hope the insurance company has been here already and appraised everything, because I need to look for a new house. I don’t want to be a problem.”
“You won’t bother me,” Margo answered. “I’m happy we are together.” Frank looked into her eyes and smiled. It took some skills, but he got her good.
“Maybe this is the way it should be,” he said. Margo looked at him and then turned as she saw someone approaching behind Michael. He followed her gaze and saw an elderly neighbor. She lived in one of the houses on this street because Frank had seen her here a couple of times on the way to the boat or from it.
“It’s good there was no wind that night,” the woman said, “and the firemen arrived before it spread further. They sprayed water and foam everywhere.”
Frank hoped she wasn’t going to ask who he was. He had to prevent that.
“Oh, hello!” he greeted the neighbor. “I can’t believe it! Everything happened so fast.”
The woman nodded and looked at Frank as if trying to remember him.
“This is really upsetting. I can’t stay here any longer,” he said, turning to Margo. “I can’t look at this.”
He waved at the woman and strolled to the car.
“Good-bye,” he heard Margo saying behind him as they walked away. “Your neighbor is very upset.”
On the way to the car, Frank tried to squeeze out more tears with the help of the same scene from the restroom, so he would look as pitiful as possible, but it didn’t happen. He still wiped his face with the end of his T-shirt. Margo handed him some tissues.
“I didn’t tell you, but I started remodeling my house. I had wanted to do it for a while, but didn’t have time. Then I met you and decided I had to do something before inviting you. See what happened. I haven’t even started.”
This short history explained everything and strengthened his status.
“Right,” Margo said. “It’s okay. We’ll build a beautiful house together.”
“Really?” Frank asked with childish hope.
“Of course,” Margo confirmed and secured her words with a tender kiss.
My, my chick, Frank thought, looking at the ruins of the house in the rearview mirror.
CHAPTER 11
Frank planned to consolidate his residential status with Margo officially in the near future, but first she had to make sure he wasn’t going to sit on his ass and suck money out of her, that he was a real businessman who earned his living by working hard. He didn’t just make money, he made serious money. He had figured out at this point that his new girlfriend was obsessed with wealth and she wouldn’t marry him if he had empty pockets. There was a moment when a worm of doubt had bitten him. What if she was with him just because of money? The worm was crushed immediately. He was a handsome son of a bitch, he was a fucking stud, and women would give up anything to be with him. Like Tiffany. Although, if he was wrong and she was after his money (his potential, mythological money), it would make things very interesting. Then she would be up for a competition. Frank had never been in a situation like this and hoped it was just anxiety working on him, providing him with uncertainties. He didn’t want to doubt his own irresistibility again and continued to meet women left and right. He wasn’t an idiot, of course, he wouldn’t do it under his second prospective wife’s nose and so he drove as far as possible for this type of “job” (not too far, so he could get to Boca fast if Margo needed him). It was only his job after all, his personal business. He went to Tampa most often and to other cities on the west coast of Florida. He drove to the places where he found whole collections of old, lonely and most importantly, rich ladies. Of course, he didn’t want to make a mistake that could cost him time. If he could find someone who was richer than Margo and who would be happy to get married or just shower him with money for no apparent reason, he would probably disappear from Margo’s life. He probably would, but he preferred to continue with her. He had never had anyone more beautiful or younger than her. He didn’t care about other people’s opinions, but it was still nice to walk into a restaurant with her hanging on to his arm and catch envious glances of other males. They could drool as much as they wanted, but the prey was his.
However, doubts were doubts and they delayed his marriage proposal. When he finally decided that it was time (Margo hinted that she had never lived with a man without being in an official relationship, meaning she wanted to tie the knot), he took Tiffany’s ring from the trunk of his car, where it rested under a spare tire. He kept all his valuable things in his trunk because thieves could easily break into the boat and steal everything. The ring cost him fifteen thousand dollars that he considered as an investment although he didn’t spend his savings on it. He had gotten the money from one of his older lovers. When Tiffany was gone, he knew he had to leave the ring on her finger, but it wasn’t a good option for him. So, he had a paste replica made at one of the jewelers and no one noticed the swap. Now this ring was going to serve him a second time.
He invited Margo to a restaurant.
He wanted to make an impression and get an indispensable consent, so he watched a few videos about proposals and chose something that didn’t require much effort, but still looked romantic. First, he wanted to do it in the restaurant. He intended to plant the ring into a dessert, but then he figured out that witnesses and modern technology could do him a disservice. What if someone made a video of his proposal and posted it on some social site? They would, he was sure of it. People’s personal lives were boring, but they tried hard to impress strangers (so-called friends) with constant excitement of their everyday existence and photographed or videotaped anything they considered more or less interesting. Then they instantly posted it on their social platforms in a pathetic attempt to be the first. Everyone wanted to be the first, no matter how low they were in life. They would do it and someone from Frank’s previous life would see it and recognize him. They might even doubt that he was Michael Buckler.
So, Frank decided to have a nice dinner and take the rest of the evening to the beach. She had to love it. She didn’t seem like a particularly social gal and there was no one around on the beach. Waves whispered, stars shined, all the crap that women liked.
After their meals he went to the bathroom, thinking about the proposal. He checked on the ring, repeated his speech, but when he had gotten back, there was a strange man next to his future wife, squeezing her arm. His future wife didn’t look happy. In fact, she looked mad and hissed at him. She was right saying he couldn’t be away for a long time because some dude would try to snatch her in his absence.
“Is there a problem?” Frank asked as he approached.
The middle-aged man looked at him first, and then let go of Margo’s arm.
“I don’t know him,” she said, “but he thinks I do.”
“Do you want to t
alk about it?” Frank didn’t like to fight, he didn’t like it at all, but his blood started to boil and he would protect his property like an animal.
“No,” the dude said and smiled. “Enjoy.”
He turned around and walked directly out of the restaurant.
“What did he say you?” Frank asked as he sat down.
“I didn’t even pay attention,” Margo answered. “What a moron.”
“You don’t know him?”
“Of course not. What a nutcase. Did you see?”
Frank nodded.
She didn’t want to go to the beach, but also didn’t want to argue with him.
The night was perfect: no rain, no wind. Everything he had planned played out just as it was supposed to. He dropped on his knee, proclaimed his speech, and gave her the ring.
Tiffany’s diamond was impressive and Frank wasn’t sure Margo remembered anything of what he said after she’d seen it.
“Of course I’ll marry you!”
Of course, of course you’ll marry me, Frank thought. He didn’t expect anything else.
They had their ceremony in Las Vegas as Margo suggested. It was her second marriage that took place in a fairly short period of time after her first husband’s death and she didn’t want pomposity. It suited him completely. He hated all ceremonies, but especially weddings.
Frank noticed that Margo didn’t look at him on the way home. At all. At first he didn’t notice it and then he asked a question and she didn’t hear it.
“Your finger is a bit fat for that ring,” Frank said as she sat down in her seat on the plane. He wanted to clip her wings a little bit, so she wouldn’t fly so high. He would start with small pricks then stab harder and harder until she realized she was nothing. However, Margo looked at her hand, twisted the ring, and turned to the porthole without answering. She even smiled! Maybe she didn’t hear, maybe she didn’t understand, or maybe she didn’t care. Any one of these maybes stung Frank. He understood that what worked with Tiffany wasn’t going to work with Margo. It actually could make things worse with her.
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