Reggie and Frank got into the black luxury sedan that was parked just across the street. The valet chased around the car to open both doors, accepting a tip from the killer Good Samaritan, Frank.
“They have great chocolate-chip cookies. Can I tempt you with one? Maybe some coffee?”
“Sure.” I smiled and sat back down at our table, partly because I needed to ground myself again. I was still feeling shaky. Quivery. It isn’t every day that you find out someone is trying to kill you. Now what was I supposed to do? That is...if I believed in this whole mind-reading thing...and if I felt like I’d really read his mind...and if I’d done it accurately. He could have been thinking about his contractor or his designer, right? Mind reading. What a hoot. How silly. Ha-ha-ha.
But the humor was missing from this mental exchange I was having with myself. In truth, I was afraid.
“I’m glad you aren’t one of those waifs where never a carb, a sugar or a fat will pass your lips. Though I was worried when I saw you’d ordered a salad.” Paul’s eyes twinkled as he gave me a crooked smile.
“Truthfully, I didn’t know if I was paying or if Reggie was paying,” I said with a smile. “They don’t pay assistants all that much, you know. The price of this meal is what my monthly grocery bill costs.”
“Ouch,” was his reply, but it was said good-naturedly. The waiter approached and Paul ordered two coffees and two chocolate-chip cookies. I was trying to think of a way to broach the subject of Frank without seeming like I was trying to pry, when Paul offered the perfect opening.
“He’s a character, isn’t he?”
“Reggie?” I asked.
“Frank. Hell, Frank and Reggie together.”
“What do you mean? Does it bother you?”
“Them being gay? Not at all. I just mean you never know with Frank. He’s a cool customer. Keeps his cards close, and then all of a sudden, he does something like help me with my script. Really, though, he’s doing it as a favor to my father. They’ve been friends for years.”
“I still don’t know how Frank and Reggie met.”
“Reggie’s sister had some kind of event, maybe a charity event, at her house...”
“I didn’t realize Reggie had a sister.” My lips quirked as I tried to envision a feminine version of Reggie.
“Well, according to Frank, she’s some kind of money manager...what do you call that...a financial planner, and he’s one of her newer clients, so he went to the event. She introduced them and that was that.”
Wasn’t that interesting. Why would he go to a charity event? Why would a...possible killer go to a charity event? What was he really doing? No way would I believe that Frank was doing anything charitable, which opened the door to many more questions, none of which likely had good answers. Ultimate creepiness. Poor Reggie! How could I let him know his partner was dangerous? He wouldn’t believe me if I did try to tell him. He’d likely fire me...
“He’s changed Reggie. For the better, I mean. Reggie seems happier. He has the ability to relax more, which he was not able to do before, and we all suffered for it.” I covered my silence with a weak smile, only to realize Paul had taken my words the wrong way.
“So the work environment is better for you if he’s getting laid regularly?”