Page 150 of The Worst Best Man
“What do we do?” Gio demanded.
“I can still hear you, idiots,” Frankie sobbed, ripping the pillow out of Marco’s hand and holding it over her head.
“She trying to suffocate herself?”
“I’m callin’ Rach. She’ll know what to do.”
“You’re not calling anyone! I’m fine!” Frankie wailed. If she was going to humiliate herself, she was going to commit to it. At least it would teach her brothers to never enter her apartment without an express invitation again.
Not that they’d be interrupting anything. New life plan: She was going to age badly and rescue a bunch of cats that would one day eat her in her sleep.
Frankie heard Marco on the phone in her living room through the paper-thin walls. “I never saw her like this before,” he was saying.
“What can we do, Frankie?” Gio was asking. “You want us to go beat the shit out of him?”
She sat upright. “No, I don’t want you to beat the shit out of him!”
He frowned. “You want us to beat the shit out of her?”
“Maybe.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t want anyone beating the shit out of anyone. It wasn’t true. He was set up, but we’re still broken up. Okay?”
“I’m confused.”
She flopped back down on the bed and held the pillow over her face.
Marco came back in the room. “Rach gave me a really specific list. I’m gonna go get the stuff. You stay here. And don’t let her look out the window.”
“Why?” Frankie asked, sitting up again.
“Shit. I thought you couldn’t hear me through the pillow.”
“What’s outside my window?” Frankie scrambled over the mattress, and Gio made a dive for her, but she dodged him. She pressed her face to the dingy glass. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Fuckin’ paparazzi,” Gio sighed.
“Why are there cameramen outside my building?”
“I guess you didn’t see the news today.”
“What the hell could have possibly happened?”
“Aiden filed a lawsuit against that Mar-goat chick and every blog and news site that printed the story. Most of them already printed retractions.”
“How is this my life?” she murmured to herself.
“I’m going out the alley. Be back in a few,” Marco said, shrugging back into his coat.
Frankie drew her blinds, throwing the apartment into the gloomy kind of darkness she felt in her heart. She let Gio talk her into at least getting out of bed and brushing her hair, but when she spotted Aiden’s comb and a stray pair of boxer briefs in the hamper, she lost all desire to behave like a human.
They slumped on the couch staring at a rerun until Marco returned.
“Okay, we got some glossy magazines that don’t say anything about keeping your man on the cover,” he said unloading the bag on her coffee table. “Some tissues in case that thing that happened in there happens again. Six different kinds of chocolate bars. Two pints of ice cream because any more than that and you’ll hate yourself in the morning. And a quart of chicken noodle.”
“What’s in the other bag?” Frankie asked, with a sniffle.
“I bought a bunch of blow ‘em up Blurays that we can watch. And the taco truck was two blocks over, so I got some of those, too.”
“Thanks, Marco,” she said. “Thanks, Gio.”
