“Booty call. You can have your pick. I think if I wasn’t breaking up with Keith and wanting a break from men for a while, I would move in on Shark or even Charlie.”
Frankie sat forward and pulled her sunglasses off.
“Shark or Charlie? Are you crazy? Those guys, Lure included, are the most intense men I’ve ever encountered. They have like secret pasts or something. I’d stay clear of them, Cassidy, and just make sure Keith doesn’t manipulate your mind.”
“He had that capability for a while. If it weren’t for you and your insight into such controlling, abusive relationships, I may have fallen deeper instead of staying free.”
“I know. It sucks, and you might even second-guess your decision to leave him, but it was the right one. If he can hit you, put you down, and make you feel worthless, then he’s not the man for you.”
Cassidy stared at Frankie. “So when are you going to tell me all about this ex of yours and how you know so much about men like Keith?” Cassidy asked Frankie.
“Never. It’s in the past, and I made a promise to just move forward. So, what are you going to do tonight?” Frankie asked.
“No plans. I’ll wait for you to be off so we can check out Riley’s or the Beach House in Treasure Town. There’s supposed to be a great live band there on Thursday night.”
“Ugh, you just reminded me. Gloria is supposed to be working tonight. God, my feet are going to be killing me, and I’m going to be exhausted,” Frankie complained.
“I don’t know why Lure and Charlie haven’t fired her. She has shown up late like three times, and she barely even works the floor at the club.”
“Tell me about it. Then I do double the work and have to share the tips.”
“Maybe when we work with her we should be lazy and do what she does. Nothing,” Cassidy suggested.
“That would only hurt us in the long run and Charlie and Lure. They’re onto her. I’m certain. In fact, if I had to bet on it, I would say the next time she shows up late they’ll fire her.”
“I don’t know. She has big tits and great legs and thinks nothing of flirting with the customers and talking them into buying top-shelf liquor. That means money,” Cassidy told her.
“But Lure and Charlie seem like good bosses and men. I’ve seen them reprimand Gloria for her behavior.”
Cassidy chuckled.
“Hell, you weren’t working the night she was doing a table dance in the back room with some dirtbag. If Charlie hadn’t walked in, she probably would have fucked the guy right there with other men watching. Prestige isn’t that kind of place.”
“Thank God I wasn’t there. I probably would have quit,” Frankie stated seriously.
“No you wouldn’t have. You need money just like I do, and no one is hiring right now during the season. It’s crowded with tourists and vacationers, and, of course, horny men, both young and old.”
“I know. I can’t even get motivated to go look for another job for during the week. There just isn’t anything out there, and I hate hearing the words, ‘sorry, we’re not hiring,’ all day long.”
“The tips are so good at Prestige, so why do you need another job?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been a server before, and it’s not exactly what I want in my future as a career.”
“What did you do back where you came from? You still haven’t told me.”
Frankie felt bad. She liked Cassidy, and they had become great friends, but the less she knew, the better and safer Cassidy would be.
“Let’s just say something more professional and businesslike.”
“What? Squeezing your thirty-six double Ds into an extra-small V-neck T-shirt that says Prestige is not appearing professional? Never mind the short black skirt that shows off your ass and your tan legs. Huh, really now. I’m insulted.” Cassidy crossed her arms and gave Frankie a sassy look.
Frankie chuckled.
“It’s different than what I’m used to. That’s all.”
“So no to accepting any offers of dinner or dates from patrons of Prestige, too?”
“No accepting any offers of dates period. I’m taking a break from all that drama,” Frankie told her.
Cassidy giggled.
“Me, too. That’s why we should hit one of those places I mentioned on Thursday. Maybe the Beach House. I hear a lot of people hang out there.”
“We’ll see. Maybe,” Frankie said and then leaned back in the chair.
“You really should remove that cover-up and lay out a little. A nice tan will bring out those blue eyes of yours even more.”
“Yes, Madam Cassidy,” Frankie teased. Cassidy shook her water bottle at Frankie, hitting her with cold water.
“Hey.” She sat forward, laughing. “Enough with the Madam Cassidy stuff. I’m not your madam. I’m just hoping that you’ll find someone that you like and who can help you forget about the guy from your past.”
“No need to worry. He’s already forgotten,” Frankie said then pulled off her cover-up and moved her chair off to the side and out from under the protection of the umbrella.
As she got comfortable in the chair, she closed her eyes and thought about Kevin and her past. He wasn’t out of her head. She could never forget about him because she knew this wasn’t over. Running away, getting out of town was the only way she could save her life.
Frankie thought about the last week of hell in Chicago. She thought about Oscar Finery’s funeral and how sad his parents and family were. His murder had been shocking and hit the entire department pretty damn hard. It was torture to go to that wake, to see all the officers paying their respects. It brought back memories of her own father’s and brother’s funerals and the reality of the job of law enforcement officers.
She had to sit there and listen to old friends of the family talk about the case, the investigation into Oscar’s murder, and how hush-hush it was. She waited, listening carefully, and hoped to hear some inkling of a clue that a special team to investigate had formed and that they had suspects already. But nothing. There was nothing, and it made her wonder who were the good cops and who were the bad ones.
Then, of course, Carlotto came to visit her. He’d threatened her. He threatened to take other officers’ lives, including Oscar’s cousin who worked as an investigator for a special crimes unit in Chicago, if she were to go forward and rat him and Kevin out. Carlotto made his intentions known that night. He caught her off guard when he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles as he held her gaze. She knew his intentions. She read the hunger in his eyes and felt the power of his abilities. Frankie would never forget his words to her that night.
“You deserve better. The best. You remember the chance I have given you, Francesca. When I call you to come to me, to be mine, you better come.”
She shivered from the memory of his words.
She got home that night and thought about her options.
She thought of going to Oscar’s cousin and his team and confiding what she knew, but when—not if—Carlotto found out, both she and Pete would die, just like Oscar had. Oscar had been into something big. There had to be a team working with him, knowing he was undercover. Why weren’t they coming forward? Why weren’t they willing to help bring justice to Oscar’s family, and more importantly, why weren’t they coming to her?
Were they all bad cops? Were they all so callous and unfeeling that they viewed Oscar’s death as a part of the price an exposed undercover officer paid? She didn’t know, and in order to stay alive, she had done what she needed to do. She left without a word, without giving notice to her perfect job, and without Carlotto or Kevin knowing. She needed to be smart, to stay out of trouble, and to stay alive. The best way to do that was to remain under the radar. That shouldn’t be too difficult in a small touristy area like Bayline.
* * * *
Mike Hawkins hung up his gear after he rechecked his firefighting equipment. He was tired and longed for a good night’s sleep. But the crew was going to the Beach House to hear some new band play, and his brother Rye was meeting him there. Another brother, Turbo, was working late at the sheriff’s department so he could take off the weekend for the party they were all attending, and his brother Nate would stay home as usual. It was amazing enough that they’d gotten him to say he’d attend the party on the weekend.
“Hey, you heading over there around eight?” Marcus Towers asked him. He was a fellow firefighter in Engine 19, along with his brother, John.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet Rye there. He was heading over early to help Daniel set up the stage.”
“That’s pretty cool that his old Army buddy is playing in a band showcasing at the Beach House. I can’t wait to hear them. They’ve been all over the Internet and have great reviews,” Marcus said as they grabbed their regular stuff from their lockers.
Eddie Martelli met them on the way out.
“Hey, enjoy the weekend, Mike. Give Jessy, Larry, and Dudley my best and try not to be so hung over that you work like shit on Monday,” he teased.
Mike chuckled.
“You know I don’t party like that. Too old.”
“Too old my ass, Hawkins. You’re thirty-three. That’s one year younger than I am.”