Page 119 of The Worst Best Man
He led her onto the floor and settled his hand at her waist. She didn’t particularly care for it. There was only one Kilbourn whose hands she wanted anywhere near her.
She followed his lead, grateful for the three weeks of remedial ballroom dance her high school gym class had forced on students every year.
“So, what do you want, Elliot?”
“Maybe I just want to spend time with my brother’s girlfriend.”
“Or maybe you want something. I like people who cut to the chase and don’t waste my time with flattery or threats.”
“I need something from my brother.”
“So ask him,” Frankie said.
“It’s not that simple,” Elliot argued.
“Yes. It is.”
“I need a favor that’s he’s not going to want to give to me.”
“So why are you dancing with me? You going to twirl me into a van and chloroform me until he agrees to whatever you want?”
“Where did my brother find you?”
“Dancing like a stripper at an engagement party.”
Elliot laughed. “You’re refreshing.”
“And you’re stifling me. Don’t use me to get to Aiden. Be a big boy and talk to your brother.”
The song ended, and Frankie abandoned Elliot in the middle of the floor and headed for the bar. She made it within six feet before she was intercepted.
“Franchesca, my dear. There you are,” Ferris Kilbourn said. “Allow me. A glass of wine for the lady,” he said chivalrously.
Frankie stared mournfully at her two fingers of tequila sitting behind the bar.
“Walk with me, will you?” Ferris suggested, handing her a glass of white wine.
“Certainly.”
She followed him to the edge of the room where a wall of windows and doors overlooked a stone courtyard. He held out a chair for her at an empty table.
Grateful to get off her feet, Frankie flopped down and kicked off her shoes under the table.
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t take offense to the concerns I voiced to Aiden,” Ferris began.
Frankie caught on to his game quickly.
“Concerns?” she said innocently.
“I’m sure you’re a lovely girl,” Ferris began.
“I’m an even better woman.” Frankie didn’t like it when older men tried to put her in the same category as her thirteen-year-old cousin who was obsessed with Harry Styles and Snapchat.
“Of course, of course. What I mean to say is I don’t want you to take it personally that I believe you don’t quite fit into our world. In fact, I’d be very surprised if you didn’t agree with me.” There was no malice behind his words. Manipulation, yes. But no real desire to harm.
She’d spent forty fucking minutes on her makeup for this. She could have troweled on blue eye shadow and bronzer in five minutes instead since they saw her for who she was. Agirlfrom Brooklyn with student loans and no portfolio.
“Then I guess you’d be surprised. I’m not on my way out like some other family members,” Frankie said, staring pointedly across the room at Jacqueline.
