by Robin Hill
Evelyn: I called your office and spoke to Amanda. She’s been trying to reach you too. Where are you, dear?
Amanda: We’re here. Found a furnished condo on East 6th that leases short term. Mike’s loving the live music, but ugh, it’s so inland. And hot! At least Miami has a breeze! Fine. I’ll stop complaining. Hope you’re OK. TWT airs tonight & I know you’re not watching it, but I still worry. Call me when you can.
Amanda: There’s a music fest planned for the 4th at Zilker. All local acts. You should come do some old-school scouting with me. Mike’s on a metal kick & therefore useless.
Amanda: What’s up with you? Check in, pls.
Amanda: Both your & Drew’s phones are off. Are you together? Call me the second you get this.
Amanda: I talked to Evelyn & she’s really worried. And Drew’s still not picking up. I’m going to try Gloria as soon as HR sends me your personnel file. If that doesn’t work, I’m involving the police. CALL ME.
Frankie
“Oh, good, you’re still here,” I say to Jane as I enter the kitchen wrapping a towel around my freshly showered hair. “I’m out of conditioner.”
“Anything else?” she asks, shouldering her purse as she turns for the door.
“Can you get some fettucine Alfredo from the deli case? And rocky road?” I laugh at the way she freezes mid-step and spins around. “Ooh, and Toaster Strudel…one of the fruit ones. I figure since I’ll be gaining weight anyway…”
“Oh, Frankie!” she says, squishing me in a hug. “You’re actually going to eat something without fighting me?”
“Who said anything about eating? I just asked you to pick it up.”
Rolling her eyes, she grabs a pen off the table and jots my list on her hand. “You sound…better,” she says, and I don’t miss the hesitation in her voice.
The last few days have been rough, and I’ve given Jane plenty of reason to reconsider her role as my BFF. The late night tears she could handle, but having to listen to The Doors on repeat nearly did her in. All kidding aside, if it weren’t for her… I swallow.
If it weren’t for her, your spirit would be as broken as your heart.
“I feel better,” I say. “My appetite’s coming back and my company’s still afloat. Things could be worse, right?”
“Then come with me. Get out of here for a little bit.”
“I said afloat, not thriving.” I glance down at my laptop, open to my overflowing inbox. “I have some damage control to do.”
“Fine,” she says. “Do your damage control, and when I get back, we’ll eat junk food and scour the internet for baby stuff.”
A genuine grin breaks over my face. “Sounds perfect.”
Jane leaves for the store, and I turn my attention to the work I’ve neglected for longer than I care to admit. I have no emergencies, for which I’m grateful, seeing as how I’ve been offline for a solid week. But due to my inattention, sales are stagnant, and I’m not especially driven to do anything about it.
I review everything, but only respond to the calls and emails that require it, then shut my laptop. I’m good with afloat. If worse comes to worst, I still have some savings and my dad’s life insurance money. A thriving business isn’t my priority right now.
“You are,” I whisper, a smile touching my lips as I rest my hand on my belly. “You deserve the best and I’ve got to get my act together so I can be that for you.”
Starting with giving Jane back to her son.
Armed with a spark of motivation, I get up from the table and go to my room to dress. I choose my favorite dark skinny jeans (while I still can), a heather gray V-neck tee, and my black Converse. I’m slipping on my second shoe when I hear a knock.
My pulse ratchets up. The last time I had an unexpected knock…
“No,” I say, shaking off the thought. It’s not him, Frankie. Don’t even go there.
I know it’s not him. My brain knows it’s not. But my heart—I swallow hard—my heart still has hope.
As I round the corner into my living room, the knock comes again, but this time, it’s followed by my name.
“Frankie?”
And though familiar, it takes a moment for the voice to register, but once it does, I go into a rage, yanking open the door with so much force, I’m surprised it doesn’t come off the hinges.
Amanda.
The thick Texas heat blazes outside like hellfire and standing in the middle of its flames is the devil herself.
My hand balls into a tight fist, and before I can stop myself—not that I would—I draw it back and let it fly. But due to my unfortunate height and lack of barroom-brawl experience, I only manage to pop her bottom lip.
Good enough.
Amanda jerks back with a gasp. “Ouch, Frankie! What the hell?”
“That was for fucking my fiancé.”
She charges past me into the living room and grabs a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table. “I’m bleeding,” she says, pressing the tissue to her lip, then holding it up as evidence. The red dot is tiny. Half a centimeter max.
I kick the door closed and follow after her. “You’re barely bleeding.”
She tips back her head as if I actually reached her nose. “You punched me for something that happened when you were like what…fifteen?”
“Amanda, you need to leave before I climb on top of the coffee table and try again.”
“Do you hear yourself?” she says. “You’ve gone mental.” She sits on the couch, crossing her long, tanned legs, and dabs her lip with the tissue. It comes away clean. “Lay off the threats, and I promise not to press charges. Deal?”
Press charges? It’s just a flesh wound!
I stand to my full height, which is a good four inches short of hers, and take in her attire through narrowed eyes—her purple blouse and black pencil skirt, her ridiculously high-heeled Louboutin’s. No wonder I couldn’t reach her nose. “Why are you here, Amanda?”
“Darian’s missing.”
The words wrap around my heart and squeeze.
Darian’s missing?
Taking a deep breath, I attempt to school my features. “That’s not my problem.”
“Frankie, please. I’m aware you two are having issues, but something’s wrong.” Uncrossing her legs, she leans forward, her hands clasped in her lap. “Evelyn’s worried. Drew’s not answering his phone, and I don’t know how to reach Gloria. Darian listed you as his emergency contact.”
“So you flew here? You couldn’t just call?”
Her mouth sets in a hard line. “I did call—”
“I don’t know where he is,” I say honestly, though I’m sure I could guess.
She rolls her eyes. “Can you, I don’t know…think for a second? Jesus, Frankie. I’m worried about him.”
“You have some nerve coming into my home, demanding my help.”
“I have some nerve?” Her biting tone makes me bristle. “You left him,” she says, pushing to her feet, “at the worst possible time, when he needed you the most. And now he’s missing, possibly in trouble. Not only is it your problem, Frankie, it’s your fault.”
Anger engulfs me as if I were doused in kerosene and lit with a match. “You must think I’m the biggest fool,” I say, glaring up at her. “I saw you, Amanda! I saw both of you!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was there. Darian and I had been arguing. He took off, and a little while later, I went after him.” My body begins to tremble as a sob bursts from my throat. “You were with him on the c-couch…I…”
“Frankie?” Jane’s voice behind me barely registers.
“I saw you fucking him!” My knees buckle and I feel myself falling back as if the floor is shifting.
Jane’s arms go around me, steadying me. “I’ve got you,” she whispers and then slowly turns me to face her so that my back is to Amanda. Her soft gaze hardens as it slides past my shoulder. “Amanda, I presume? I don�
�t know what you’re doing here and I don’t care. You need to go.”
“That’s why you left?” Amanda says, ignoring Jane’s order. “You thought I slept with him? You thought he cheated on you?”
Jane guides me to the kitchen table where I sink into a chair.
“I was there,” I whisper.
“Frankie, I wasn’t fucking your fiancé,” Amanda says from the doorway, “I was fucking mine.”
I shake my head as images from that horrible day, previously burned into my brain, begin to muddle. “I know what I saw. I left because of what I saw. I left him—”
Jane sits beside me and smooths her hand over my back. “Try to relax, okay?”
“I don’t know if Darian told you, but he decided to move me to Austin for the foreseeable future and I’ve been pretty pissed about it,” Amanda says, taking the seat opposite me. “That night, there was a lot of arguing followed by a lot of drinking, and after we polished off a bottle of scotch, he called a cab and I called Mike.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “I thought Darian had gone home to you. I didn’t know until the next morning he’d slept in his car.”
Jane turns to face Amanda. “Who’s Mike?”
“My fiancé,” she says as she holds out her hand. My breath catches at the sight of the diamond on her finger—so large and vibrant I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. “He proposed that night, and we…”
“Fucked on Darian’s couch,” Jane supplies.
Amanda’s eyes meet mine. “That’s who you saw, Frankie—Mike, not Darian.”
What have I done?
Bitterness fills my mouth. “I am a fool,” I whisper to no one in particular.
“No, sweetie,” Jane says, her hand still flat against my back. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I don’t think you’re a fool,” Amanda says. “If I’d been in your shoes, I probably would have thought the same thing.” Worrying her lip between her teeth, she glances down at her ring as she twists it around her finger. “I wasn’t very nice to you when we met, and I’m sorry. I just…I wasn’t sure what your intentions were. You’re so young, and he has so much baggage.” Her gaze lifts to mine. “Maybe if I’d tried harder, you wouldn’t have had reason to doubt me.”
“Even so,” I say through the emotion clogging my throat. “I never had reason to doubt him, yet I did.”
“Can we back up for a minute?” Jane asks, reaching behind her for a stack of napkins. “Amanda, how—why are you here?”
“Darian’s missing,” I tell her as I take a napkin and blot my eyes.
“Like missing missing or at the island missing?”
“My guess is the latter,” I say, settling my tear-filled gaze on Amanda. Whether she’s aware of Anabel Key, I can’t be sure, but the downturn of her lips suggests she’s not. For the first time since meeting her, I feel bad for the wedge my relationship with Darian has put between the two of them. “He has a place off Marathon. I’ll need to hire a boat at the marina, but I’m sure I can find it.”
“Start looking for flights,” Jane says, pointing to my laptop as she gets up from her chair.
Amanda shakes her head. “We don’t have time for commercial. I’ll charter a plane that will fly directly to Marathon.” She reaches across the table and gives my wrist a squeeze. “Frankie, thank you. And don’t worry. He’ll be okay, and so will you.”
I nod.
Amanda stands and starts for the door. “My phone’s in the car. I’ll go make the arrangements while you pack.”
“I’ll never forgive myself for this,” I say to Jane as she rummages through the groceries on the counter.
“Frankie, I need you to remember something.” She turns around with a red and white Verizon bag held against her chest. “You guys have been having problems for a while now. You’ve been unhappy. I know you never actually said the words, but a best friend can sense these things.” Her eyes soften as she reclaims her seat at the table. “Have you considered maybe there’s a reason you believed what you thought you saw? Darian may be innocent where Amanda’s concerned, but what about the rest of it? What about the things that came before?”
“What are you suggesting?”
She gives me a small smile. “I’m not suggesting anything. I merely want you to think before you leap this time. When Darian proposed, what did I tell you?”
“That I could change my mind.”
“Yes,” she says. “And you still can—for any reason whatsoever or no reason at all. Just because Darian didn’t do what you thought he did doesn’t mean he’s the right guy for you. Like Amanda said, you’re young and he has a lot of baggage.”
“I knew that going in.”
“That’s true,” she says, “but you had no way of knowing how hard it would be. Now you do. Are you sure this is still what you want?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation and then smile at how easily the word came. Yes. “I admit it’s been hard and I got scared, but until this thing with Amanda, I never—not for one second—considered leaving him. And right now, there isn’t anything in the world that could keep me from running back.”
“Guess that answers that,” Jane says, donning her own smile as she sets the Verizon bag in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“Prepaid phone. Try not to drop it.”
I laugh. “Thanks.”
She nudges the bag toward me. “There’s something else.”
I reach inside and take out a white FedEx envelope. My heart stutters.
“The truck pulled in behind me,” Jane says. “But I didn’t want to give it to you in front of Amanda, and”—she shrugs—“I kinda needed to know where your head was at.”
“My head’s freaking out a little bit.”
“I’m sure it is, but try to stay calm, okay? It will all work out. I promise.” The front door opens, and Amanda’s voice filters in. Jane taps her watch. “Better get moving.”
Riders on the Storm
Frankie: It’s Francesca. You can reach me at this number. I got your letter. I love you, and I’m on my way.
Frankie
Jane squeezes my hand as we stand on the tarmac, my eyes scanning the plane, her eyes scanning me.
“It was the best Amanda could do on short notice,” she says. “Are you going to be okay?”
I nod, despite the alarm bells sounding in my head. “God, it’s so small.”
The pilot walks toward us, and I take a long swallow of air. “I promise not to pass this neurotic fear on to you,” I whisper, holding my free hand to my stomach.
Jane laughs. “You’d better not if you’re planning to keep my godbaby in Florida.”
The idea makes my heart swell.
“Ms. Valentine?” the pilot says, his gaze lobbing between us. “I’m Captain Ramos.” He extends his hand and Jane has to nudge me to take it.
“Frankie’s not a big fan of flying,” she tells him, giving me a sideways glance.
“It’s not my favorite pastime.” I clear my throat. “But you look competent…ish.”
“It’s the hat,” he says, tipping it cheerily before glancing up at the sky. “South Florida is seeing some weather today, so the end of the ride may be bumpy. But the cockpit is open to the back.” He gives me a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right there with you.”
I grip the strap of my duffel with both hands. “Define bumpy.”
He chuckles. “I understand you’ll be chartering a boat upon arrival. The Keys are under a tropical storm watch, so the sooner we get you to Marathon, the better.”
“It is safe to fly, though, right?” Jane asks, hooking her arm through mine.
“It’s nothing out of the ordinary,” he says and reaches for my bag. “Try not to worry. It’s just a watch, not a warning, and it isn’t expected to blow in until nightfall.” He shoulders my duffel and turns toward the plane. “I’ll give you ladies a minute.”
I’m guessing they don’t have drink service on that thing,” I say to Jane once Captain Ramos is out of earshot.
She giggles and pats my belly. “Wouldn’t help you if they did.”
“I suppose not.”
“You still have your phone?” she asks, checking my shirt pocket—Darian’s shirt pocket, rather.
I hug his oxford tight around me. “Right where you put it.”
“Have you tried calling him?”
“Tried, but there was no answer. I texted him too, just in case.”
Jane looks toward the plane and sighs. “I love you,” she says as she pulls me into a hug. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. I never doubted you could do this on your own, but I’m really happy you don’t have to.”
I step away from her, my heart in my throat. “I’m scared, Jane. It’s not just me anymore. He has to take both of us. And he said—”
“Never mind what he said. Things are different now. You’ll see.”
“You doin’ okay back there?” Captain Ramos calls over his shoulder.
“I thought you said the end of the ride would be bumpy.”
“It will be.”
“Then what do you call this?” I ask, gripping the armrests with white knuckles as the plane jerks up and down.
He shrugs. “Bouncy?”
“So this is normal?”
“You really don’t like flying, huh?”
“Not even on a clear day.” I turn my gaze to the window and bite down on my lip. It is a clear day, or at least it looks clear. “How’s the weather holding up in the Keys?”
“So far so good,” he says. “I think our timing might be perfect.”
Another hour into the flight, I learn the difference between bouncy and bumpy. Heavy rain has darkened the sky to a grayish blue, and when a bolt of lightning cuts through it, I gasp loud enough to earn a belly laugh from the cockpit.
I squeeze my eyes closed. “I think you may have miscalculated perfect by a few hundred miles.”