Crazy For Love. Victoria Dahl
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that had rolled under the sofa. Man, he felt like Cassandra. At least he thought it was Cassandra. One of those gods or goddesses who was always predicting gloom and doom and having nobody listen.
Rick had everything washed and upside down on the drainboard by the time Drew got back into the kitchen. He was already swabbing down the countertops although he acted as though there’d been no time lapse in their conversation. “Anyway, if you’re all that worried about Frannie, why don’t you marry her yourself? I’d trust you with her.” Rick shrugged. “I’d feel sorry for you, but I’d trust you. We’ve been brothers in all but fact for years. Might as well make it real. At least with Frannie you’d know what you were getting.”
The beer bottle dropped out of his hand. Drew winced as he heard it break. At least he’d been standing over the recycling bin when he’d dropped it. “What?” he finally gasped. “I didn’t hear what I thought I heard, did I?”
Rick threw the sponge into the sink where it landed with a sodden plop. “You heard me, all right. You’d be perfect for each other. You already know each other’s flaws. I never understood this aversion you have to marriage. What’s the big deal? The drive to create family is a basic instinct, man. Basic. Evie says so. You got something wrong with you is what.”
Drew crushed the chip bag in his hand before dropping it in the trash. He only wished it had been Rick’s head. “You’re the mental one, not me. Anyone with a brain can look around and see that the institution of marriage has severe cracks in its foundation and you’d be a fool to enter the building when it could fall down around your ears at any second. Yet there you go merrily on your way. Well, I’ll be the first one to laugh and say I told you so.”
“Evie and I are going to be very happy together,” Rick got out through gritted teeth. “I happen to believe I’ll be the one saying I told you so. Why the hell are you so cynical anyway?”
“Man, open your eyes and look around, would you? Look at my parents. Twenty-eight years, Dad goes into some kind of midlife crisis, has an affair with this woman at work—not even a particularly good-looking woman, which is what really killed Mom—and poof, the whole marriage blows up. Wife number two didn’t trust him, with reason since he’d cheated on Mom with her, so that relationship fell apart. He’s seriously talking about taking the plunge yet again with some chickee twenty years younger than he is. Think about it. I’ve got those genes in me. I could do that. Is that what you want for Frannie? Where would she be if I started cheating on her a few years down the road?”
Rick snorted. “A whole hell of a lot better off than you. Frannie doesn’t take crap from anybody, man. She’d take you for everything you had. You’d be the one doing the hurt dance, especially after I got done breaking your face.”
“Oh, and that’s supposed to reassure me?” For lack of anything better to do, he pulled the trash bag out of the cabinet, knotted it off and relined the can.
“Look, all I meant was that Frannie can take care of herself. Hell, you and I are the ones who taught her how. And you should have more faith in yourself. What are you, some victim of your genetic code? You can learn from your father’s mistakes, you don’t have to repeat them.”
“You’re right. Nobody in their right mind would cheat on Frannie. I’m still not marrying her. Remember how close I came with Jayne only to find out she was using me to get through Physics down at Purdue? And then there was Nancy. She didn’t want a BA, all she was interested in was an MRS. So long as it was with somebody she thought was going to make enough money to support her in the style she thought she deserved. Permanent relationships are not exactly my forte.”
Rick threw up his hands in exasperation. “All right, all right. I still think it’d be better for Frannie to marry somebody I know and trust since she’s so het up about this. Remember that video we rented from the place that specialized in old movies? Rosemary’s Baby? Scary stuff. What if she ended up with somebody like that? But I can’t hogtie you and force you to the altar. What about this? School will be out for the summer in a few more weeks. Offer her a summer job. She needs one anyway. Let her work in your office. That way you can keep an eye on her.”
The mere idea had Andrew reaching for another beer. It looked like he’d be walking home or camping out on Rick’s sofa. He’d had enough to make getting behind the wheel of a car iffy and it was all Frannie’s fault. “No way. You hire her.”
“I’m not the one all upset and worried over nothing like an old mother hen.”
Now his buddy had gone too far. Andrew gritted his teeth. “I am not acting like a mother hen.” For crying out loud, how had Rick managed to keep his total lack of intelligence so well hidden? All these years Drew had never even suspected how totally lacking in perception his friend was. Sure the guy had had some trouble in advance placement calculus, but a lot of guys had. Drew had never even suspected.
Drew forced his clenched fists to relax. The temptation to use them on Rick was incredibly strong. One of them had to be mature here, however, and by obvious default, the task was falling to him. “Listen, Rick, this idea of yours is a good one. You could get her a job at that snooty highbrow law firm of yours. She’d be safe enough there. Bunch of white-collared highly educated mostly married geeks. Can’t even understand them when they start in on that legalese mumbo jumbo. What could happen?”
Rick sat down at the kitchen table and ran his hand through his hair. “Let’s see. Where do I begin? Winkley, one of the senior partners, just had divorce papers served on him. Fourth wife. Obviously never played baseball as a kid or he’d have realized three strikes is all you need to be out. Anyway, word is she’s claiming physical abuse. Frannie’s tough, but she’s also kind of naive, you know? Winkley’d eat her for breakfast. Then I’d have to punch him out. He’s a partner, so I’d lose my job. And it’s a law firm, so he’d also sue my ass.”
“Four? You’re kidding.”
“Kid you not. And Forter’s into women’s underwear. Caught sight of them in the john last week. All satiny with lace. Frannie doesn’t need anybody whose underwear is prettier than hers.”
“Jeez louise.”
Rick nodded wisely. “Yeah. Sick.”
“She can’t work there. God only knows what else is going on you haven’t uncovered yet.”
“No place for a second-grade school teacher,” Rick agreed. “Want me to microwave another batch of popcorn?” he asked, drumming his hands on the table.
Drew waved the offer away. “Nah, I’m okay.”
Drew leaned against the counter silently for a moment thinking hard, then gave up. It was obvious Rick wasn’t going to take his concerns seriously. It was up to Drew to save Frannie from herself. If Drew hired her for the summer, sure she’d go home covered with dirt at the end of the day, but at least it was real dirt rather than the metaphorical variety. And as far as Drew knew, not a single guy in his group was into women’s underwear.
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