Burning Down the Spouse (39 page)
Read Burning Down the Spouse Online
Authors: Dakota Cassidy
Tags: #Separated Women, #Greek Americans, #Humorous, #Contemporary, #Women Cooks, #General, #Romance, #Humorous Fiction, #Fiction, #Cultural Heritage, #Love Stories
“Soul,” Frankie corrected on a tired giggle, grabbing her favorite knife. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
More and more, when he observed Frankie with his mother or even his father, Nikos also observed tightness in his gut, an electric tingle in his chest he’d been unsuccessful at pinpointing. His eyes strayed to the woman he’d come to look forward to seeing across from him every day. Her auburn hair was in that messy ponytail, and her amber eyes were indeed rimmed with dark shadows.
Nikos nudged her slender shoulder with his, keeping his ludicrous suspicions and potential outbursts to himself. “How’d last night go?”
Frankie’s eyes didn’t seek his. Instead, she looked down at the chopping block. “Okay. No big deal.”
“Did you come up with anything solid—or are you going to have to go back?”
She frowned down at the carrots she was slicing for the stew. “No, no. I don’t have to go back. I think we sewed it all up. Was Kik okay? Is she in the back with Barnabas?”
He nuzzled her neck, ignoring the weird vibe she was giving off. “Yep, she’s with Papa, and she spent the night plastered up against me like we’d been surgically attached together.” Leaning in closer, he let the tip of his tongue skim the outer shell of her ear. “We missed you.”
Frankie waved him away with a gloved hand and a terse giggle. “Stop. Your mother.”
He took the knife from her, forcing her to look at him by hauling her close, bringing to mind the lascivious notion of taking her right here and now. “She knows.”
When her eyes finally found his, they were weary and hesitant. “Am I in the shit because my last name doesn’t have an ‘opolous’ on the end of it?”
Nikos laughed. He loved her sharp wit. “Nope. Mama loves you. She’s fine with it. Happy it’s you, in fact.”
“Really?” Her genuine surprise was evident.
“Really, sweetheart. Why are you so surprised?”
“Because while I’m clearly diner material, I didn’t think I was ‘big, hunky Greek son’ material.”
Nikos found her lips with his for a quick kiss. “Well, I say you’re Greek material. Now get to work, and if you need a break before lunch, take one. You look like you’ve been up all night.”
Automatically, her eyes strayed elsewhere before she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. “Don’t be silly, Antonakas. I need at least eight to deal with a slave driver like you. Ten if I hope to be quick of wit.”
Another quick nip of her luscious lips and Nikos said, “I gotta go do payroll. Meet me for lunch in the back?”
She grinned, making his stomach do something he was sure only girls’ stomachs did. “It’s a date.”
Nikos left her chopping carrots and green peppers with a satisfied smile. Today, life was good. Not that she would have prevented him from pursuing Frankie, but his mother wasn’t going to harp on him about Frankie’s less than Greek-ness. Topping that off, Voula was going to talk Barnabas into retiring—something long overdue but much needed.
And Frankie was here.
Opa.
“My Nikos, he likes you.”
Frankie gave Voula a look of caution she was unable to hide while she nibbled a cracker and stirred her chicken soup in the back office.
Voula gave her a shoulder-to-shoulder nudge. “You like him, too, eh, Frankie?”
“He’s . . . he’s . . . uh, very nice.”
“S’okay. You don’t have to hide the feelings with Mama. Then we all walk on eggs. Eggs are no good on your feet.”
“Eggshells.” Frankie gulped. Despite the fact that Nikos had given her the green light, she’d seen Voula in action when one of her cubs had a mere scratch.
“Yes. The eggshells,” she said on a wide smile. “I know Nikos, and I see how he looks at you when he don’t think I’m looking. It makes my heart glad. But he has bad thing happen. I don’t want that to happen again, Frankie.”
You’ve been warned, Bennett.
Wiping her hands on her apron, Frankie approached the topic with caution. “I can only promise to do my best not to leave any carnage.”
Voula frowned. “What is this carnage?”
“Wreckage. I mean, I promise to try not to hurt Nikos.”
Voula rubbed a flour-covered thumb over Frankie’s cheek. “It’s not you I worry about. You know about the bad because you were married to the bad. But you’re a smart girl. You learn from your mistakes. It’s Nikos. He has the stupid disease. He doesn’t always pay attention before he say something stupid. He is the most like my Barnabas. Green with the monster.”
Frankie laughed, sliding back in her chair to scratch Kiki’s head. “You mean the green-eyed monster? Like jealousy?”
“That’s it. He is jealous and he does the stupid.”
“Because of Anita . . .”
Voula winked, slipping Kiki one of the treats she carried around in her apron pocket at all times. “She had no business with my son when she really loved somebody else. She don’t look at my Nikos the way you do. Eh, but what can I do when I see disaster? Nikos is a man. He does not listen to his mama anymore, even when I try and warn him. But he did not listen, and look what happened. Mama is always right. So you be patient, okay? If he opens his big mouth?”
“I promise to try.”
“You’re a good girl. Does not matter that you are not Greek. You’re still a nice girl.”
“Well, this very nice, not-Greek girl thanks you for the kind words.” The warmth of acceptance made her cheeks glow and her heart shift.
Voula laughed, winking conspiratorially at Frankie when Nikos and Barnabas entered the office.
Nikos pulled up a chair next to Frankie, pulling Kiki into his lap and settling her under his chin while Barnabas flipped on the widescreen television Nikos had installed just for him.
Barnabas settled into the chair, patting Voula’s hand when she let it rest on his shoulder.
Frankie smiled at the people she’d come to treasure, sipping at her soup and fighting back a bad case of the sleepies. She felt only a little guilty about not telling Nikos she’d been at Mitch’s all night. Later. She’d tell him later when she was better equipped to have a possible argument she hoped to avoid.
The voice of the newscaster on the TV droned on, familiar to Frankie’s ears, but vague and buzzing due to sleep deprivation. “In our ‘Actual or Nonfactual’ spotlight—celebrity chef, Mitch Bennett.”
Frankie instantly cringed, shrinking down into her seat. God. Mitch was like a bad case of herpes—always with her.
“As seen here on
Live! with Regis and Kelly
, the wandering-of-eye and playboy food fanatic of the once popular
Mitch in the Kitchen
was all smiles when he revealed a hint to the morning cohosts that he has some rather exciting plans for the future, involving, of all things, meatloaf. But that’s not the real question you should be asking yourselves, fine fans of the preserved like well-aged wine prince of palette pleasure—the real question is, will Mitch Bennett and his one-time wife and candidate for best impression of a psych-ward escapee revisit their recipe for love? Check out this footage, taken just last night, from
Hollywood Scoop
’s intrepid reporter Dan Winter, and judge for yourself if it’s actual or nonfactual.”
Live! with Regis and Kelly
, the wandering-of-eye and playboy food fanatic of the once popular
Mitch in the Kitchen
was all smiles when he revealed a hint to the morning cohosts that he has some rather exciting plans for the future, involving, of all things, meatloaf. But that’s not the real question you should be asking yourselves, fine fans of the preserved like well-aged wine prince of palette pleasure—the real question is, will Mitch Bennett and his one-time wife and candidate for best impression of a psych-ward escapee revisit their recipe for love? Check out this footage, taken just last night, from
Hollywood Scoop
’s intrepid reporter Dan Winter, and judge for yourself if it’s actual or nonfactual.”
Frankie’s eyes were wide open now, her hands clenching the bowl of soup.
As scenes from last night flitted across the screen, all forty-two inches of screen, Frankie didn’t have enough breath left in her lungs to even gasp.
And there they were. Displayed in plasma, Mitch’s hands on her ass, her lips near his ear.
The video of her supposed tryst with Mitch undoubtedly had been edited to make it look as though she and Mitch were in some kind of passionate lover’s embrace, and they’d conveniently left the words “meatloaf” and “recipes” in while cutting out her protests.
Yes. Today was all kinds of awesome.
Barnabas clicked the television off, letting the remote slide to the pocket on the side of his chair, wordless. Voula’s horrified face, the shape of her mouth in that O of disbelief, was matched only by her muffled sob and escape out through the doors of the office.
Frankie cleared her throat, praying the raw, cracked feel of it wouldn’t lend to a squeaky, disjointed explanation. She laid a hand on Nikos’s arm, but he yanked it away, making her jump. She fought for calm. “Listen to me—”
Nikos’s lips thinned, his jaw tight and unforgiving. The muscles of his free forearm clenched, flexing with tension. “You were with Mitch all night last night, weren’t you?”
Frankie scooted forward in her chair, imploring him to look at her. Her pulse crashed in her ears and her stomach heaved. “Yes, but it’s not what you think. They’re making it look like something it wasn’t, Nikos!” If Mitch wasn’t dying, he would be when she got her hands on him. He’d never looked more youthful and glowing than he had in that clip from
Regis and Kelly
.
Regis and Kelly
.
The idea that she’d been had made her want to yark.
“Don’t insult me by lying, for Christ’s sake!” he roared, making even a deaf Kiki jump. “You did just see what we all saw, didn’t you, Frankie! God damn it, they have video of you and Mitch at his house with the clothes you had on last night. You sure as hell didn’t look like you were reluctant to have his hands all over you.”
No, no, no.
She would not let this slip away. Not when she was so close. Her eyes remained pleading, but her resolve was unshakable. “Whoa, hold on there, knuckle-dragger! Do you have any idea the way the tabloids twist things to make it look like something it isn’t? That video’s been edited to hell and back!”
She would not let this slip away. Not when she was so close. Her eyes remained pleading, but her resolve was unshakable. “Whoa, hold on there, knuckle-dragger! Do you have any idea the way the tabloids twist things to make it look like something it isn’t? That video’s been edited to hell and back!”
Nikos scraped his chair back, his body rigid with his palpable anger. His black eyes grew hard like two onyx stones, but his voice, Jesus, his voice was eerily together and ominous. “I might not be Cordon Bleu–educated like Mitch, but I’m not an idiot, Frankie. It doesn’t change the fact that his hands were all over you. I saw it with my own eyes, and you didn’t look unhappy about it.”
“Right, but the part of our conversation you didn’t see was the part where I told him if he didn’t take his hands off my ass, I’d remind him how stealthy I am with a wooden spoon! You’re jumping to conclusions again, Nikos—you’re sentencing me without giving me a fair trial!” she shouted, jumping up and sloshing her soup to the floor with trembling hands.
But he was in a zone Frankie knew all too well. It was painfully obvious in his stance and by the tightening of his jaw he couldn’t hear her anymore. “I knew it,” Nikos said with so much disgust in his voice, it left the marrow in her bones aching. He dragged a hand through his hair. “I knew something was going on, but I swore to myself I’d trust you. You can’t deny what I just saw, Frankie, so don’t you throw Anita at me. Don’t. I ignored that little voice in my head that said you wouldn’t ever go back to a piece of shit like him—”
“Nikos Antonakas!” Barnabas shouted, popping up from his chair to stand in front of his son. “You do not use this language with our Frankie no matter what. You will be a gentleman!” he commanded in a tone of force Frankie would never have guessed he possessed.
Frankie’s heart raced when Nikos’s eyes scanned her in distaste. “Don’t worry, Papa. It won’t ever happen again. Get the hell out, Frankie.”
Voula’s cry from outside the door preempted any further explanation, leaving everyone assholes and elbows to see what was going on.
Nikos was first to her side, Kiki still tucked under his arm, blissfully unaware of the newest commotion. “Mama? What’s wrong?”
Her round face held disbelief. “My recipe for the meatloaf. It’s—it’s—gone!”
Cosmos bolted through the doors of the kitchen and took hold of Voula’s shoulders. “Did I just hear you right?”
Tears streamed from Voula’s always cheerful face. “It’s gone, Cosmos! I know where I put. Every night I put it away because I need the next day. My memory is so bad. I must look always to be sure I make it right. It’s not there,” she sobbed.
The few remaining lunch customers in the diner sat in stunned silence just as Simon burst through the diner doors with Jasmine literally flying behind him. The clickety-clack of his cane led him to where they all stood. From where Frankie was positioned, she noted Simon looked deeply troubled. “Nikos? We need to talk, champ.
Now
.”
Now
.”
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