How The Cookie Crumbles (39 page)

Bianca looked mystified. “I guess he’s got the dough to take you to some fancy places in L.A., right?”

I shook my head, “Not really, unless In-N-Out Burger counts as a nice place. We go to regular places, and I usually pay for myself — well I offer, anyway. We went to the VIP area of a club once, that was cool. But he has a surprisingly normal lifestyle; even in L.A., he’s pretty much the same as he was in Kingston.”

“So, he doesn’t take you to nice places or buy you gifts even though he’s loaded. Strike two,” Bianca concluded. “Face facts, Frankie. The guy acts like an egotistical superstar and not boyfriend material.”

“That’s because you’re so into hockey and you think of him as a big hockey star,” Chloë piped up. “If you had met him in Kingston, the way Frankie and I did, you’d realize that he is a regular guy. A really nice guy.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for someone to make that much money, be a hockey superstar, and be normal. But why not ask the expert? Frankie?”

“You’re both right,” I said, and they didn’t look too impressed at my equivocating. Jake was a regular guy at heart, but Bianca was right, you couldn’t leave home at 15, join the NHL at 18, and still turn out completely normal. Jake took luxuries for granted, like expensive homes and nice cars. And there was something a little twisted about his attitude towards women; he was nice to me, but I got the feeling that getting women came so easily to him that it was another thing he didn’t fully appreciate.

“Wait, he did give us hockey tickets,” I remembered. And I had found out he had to pay for them.

“And he gave you his jersey, so it must be serious,” Bianca snorted.

“Yes, and I was only one of a thousand people in Staples Center wearing one.”

“I’m sure he didn’t give them all jerseys,” Chloë giggled, ever hopeful that two best friends were dating two best friends.

“Only the good-looking women,” Bianca joked. I laughed along, but inside I felt my stomach flip. Jake definitely had an eye for attractive women. Strike three.

47. Christmas Cheer

When Rex and I finally went home for Christmas holidays, I had a whole bad news, good news scenario in mind. Three months without me in town, but they’d get Rex instead! Okay, maybe it was bad news, bad news. I waited until after dinner, so we were all in a good mood. Unfortunately, this also meant that the whole family was sitting around the table adding their two cents to the subject. I managed to answer the big questions on how exactly I was going to graduate (late, but this year after summer session), what I would get from the internship (work experience and a better understanding of what I wanted to do after graduation), and how this would affect my grad school plans (not at all).

“What I don’t understand is why Los Angeles and not the Vancouver Art Gallery?” my dad wondered.

“Dad, it’s more prestigious to work at a big American museum. It will actually help me get work in Canada in the long run if I have the LACMA on my resumé.”

“So Frances, you met this Beatrice woman when you had your California museum field trip in the fall?” Okay, I had lied about why I went to Los Angeles the second time. I couldn’t tell my parents I was skipping classes to look after Jake. “And she’s going to be the one you’re staying with?”

I couldn’t lie about a three-month stint. And besides it would be just like my parents to drop in. They had good friends with a place in Palm Springs.

“Actually, I’m staying with a friend I met in Kingston, who has a townhouse there.”

“Who is this friend?” my mother asked.

“Uh, Jake,” I said. Too bad he didn’t have some gender-neutral name.

“Jake is a boy’s name,” my mom pointed out, in case I hadn’t noticed. “So, who exactly are you going to be living with?”

Why was I suddenly feeling sixteen years old? “It’s Jake Cookson.” The name meant nothing to my mom or grandmother, but my dad stared and Allan and Glen both dropped the phones they were secretly texting on.

“Jake fucking Cookson!” said Allan.

“Allan! Language!” said my mother.

“Sorry Mom, but Franny, are you kidding me?” Allan was pumped.

“No, I told you he was my friend when I got back after the summer.”

“Yeah, but I thought that was a friend, like maybe he’d say hi if he tripped over you, not like a friend that lets you stay at his place for three months. Say, is this like a romance or something? Are you dating him? Tell me you are, and you can get me game tickets!” The last time Allan was this excited, a big screen TV had just been installed in our rec room.

I shook my head. “No. No way. No tickets, no romance.” This was the tack I had decided to take, so I could claim that the relationship began when we lived together, rather than having to break all the news to my parents at once. Since I couldn’t even define our relationship to my best friends, I wasn’t going to try with my parents.

Allan frowned. As did my mom, and then she spoke up. “I don’t know, I don’t think you should be living alone with a man. And he’s a hockey player. That’s not right.”

“Actually, he lives with another guy. So we’re not alone.”

“Who’s the other guy?” wondered Glen.

“Lucas Dominick.”

“Luke fucking Dominick!” said Allan.

“Allan! I warned you before. You’re not too old to spank, you know,” said Mom.

“Mom, I think I am too old to spank.” He was 16 and almost a foot taller than her.

“Being impertinent will not get you anywhere. Go to your room.” Allan rose reluctantly. “And leave your phone here.” He grimaced and left the dining room, mouthing, “I want tickets” at me behind Mom’s back.

“Frances, I don’t like this. You living with two men that we don’t even know, there will probably be parties and shenanigans.” Only my mom would use a word like that, making me think of leprechauns doing the limbo.

Glen spoke up. “They’re hockey players, not criminals. They’re rich and famous! They could have any girl in Hollywood, Mom. Why would they pick Franny?” This kind of insult was how my bros always helped me.

“Joanna,” my granny interrupted, and my mother looked over at her. “At Frankie’s age, I was already married and pregnant. Let her go and have some adventures. She’s a good girl with good sense, and she’ll be fine.”

My mom looked at her and then at my dad. I could tell there would be a lot more questions, but I think I had won the battle. “Well, if everyone else is okay with this….” Nobody said anything else. My mom went to the kitchen to make herself a comforting cup of tea. Glen and my dad went downstairs to see what other hockey player buddies of mine might be on TV.

“Thanks, Granny,” I said, giving her a hug.

“That’s okay, dear,” she twinkled up at me, “but tell me, is he a hottie?”

Jake

The box arrived just before Christmas with this note:

Since Frankie left, she had sent me three care packages. The first one was brownies, a get-well thing that she had mailed before she came, but it took ages to get here. The second one was these cake pops she sent for my birthday. And the third one was today.

I looked inside, there was a box neatly wrapped in Christmas paper with a matching bow. And there was a tin with reindeer on it; I opened it and looked inside. It looked like chocolate chip cookies, but I knew what this really meant. Commitment.

“Fuck me,” I said to Domer.

“Waff?” He already had a mouthful of cookie.

“I knew it! I told her, but she’s not listening to me. This proves that if Frankie comes and lives with us, it’ll be this big fucking deal.”

“What are you talking about? These are just cookies. Good ones too, almost as good as my mom’s.”

“They’re commitment cookies! Feel this,” I handed him the gift.

“Uhhhh.” He handed it back to me with a WTF expression on his face.

“It feels like a book,” I said glumly.

“So?”

It wasn’t Christmas yet, but I opened it anyway. It was a book,
The Game
by Ken Dryden. I felt like there was a heavy weight on my chest. “See, a book.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s a book about hockey. I think someone on the team was reading that. It’s old, but Dryden was a good goalie in his time.” He started to laugh, “I think you’re reading too much into this, get it?”

“Ha, ha. Go ahead and laugh while my life goes down the drain.”

Domer went to the fridge, “I’m getting a milk to go with my cookies, you want one?”

I nodded. “But seriously, have you ever seen me reading a book?”

Domer shook his head and snorted. “Not in all the years I’ve known you!”

“So, don’t you get it? It’s the beginning. Frankie wants to be my girlfriend and fix me up! She wants me to be smarter, neater, and all that shit. She’s trying to, y’know, butter me up with cookies!”

Domer laughed even louder. “Do you have any idea how much of an idiot you sound like? But I don’t get it, you told her she could live with you, what did you expect?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I do like being with her. I figured it would be okay. I told her I wasn’t into relationships! I thought she got it, but Frankie is so intense. I can tell she hopes it’ll be some big deal between us.” Part of me did want her to come and stay because we always had a great time. But another part of me was in a complete panic at getting all tied down and turning into Link.

Domer shrugged and ate another cookie. “Maybe you could try it.”

“Try what?”

“Being in a relationship. Why not, you’ve done everything else.”

“But that would mean giving up my freedom. I want to do what I want, when I want, and not have anyone on my case.”

“Freedom to do what? You can still hang out with me and go out with the guys.”

“Yeah, but I can’t go out and party.”

“Oh, your freedom to go out and pick up skanks. Who wouldn’t want to keep that, right?” He shook his head.

“What?”

“I don’t know. I thought that Frankie was way nicer and hotter than anyone I’ve ever seen you with. And you seemed to be into her, big time. But whatever.” Domer shrugged and ate another cookie. They were almost gone already, so I nabbed another one. Finally he said, “So, tell her she can’t come.”

“I can’t do that, she’s counting on staying here. She’s made all these arrangements to postpone her classes. She told me she couldn’t afford it any other way. And I invited her in the first place.”

“Crap, I don’t know. Maybe you could throw money at this problem. Rent her her own place, like near the museum or something.”

I thought about this idea. I was pretty sure that Frankie wouldn’t accept charity, she hardly ever let me pay for stuff, and when I did she was always trying to even things up. And I felt guilty, when I invited her I did want her to stay. I guess in my head, I had this stupid idea that she would come here and I could do my own thing. I did want to hang out with her, and I really wanted to have sex with her, but I didn’t want to give up partying or going out with the guys. I realized that Frankie was exactly the kind of ball-busting girlfriend who would have me reading and going to art galleries and missing poker nights with the guys. Her middle name was Serious, or maybe Serious Trouble For Jake.

Well, I’d have to figure something out, some way to let her know that I was calling the shots here. And that would start by proving I wasn’t whipped.

48. Three’s Company

“I’ve got a plan,” I declared to Domer as I tried to tidy up Link’s old room. I’d ask Marta to change the sheets and clean when she came, but he’d left some of his crap. Stuff he didn’t want Ella to see, like X-rated shot glasses and a red lace thong. He should have pitched this shit, but I guess he left it as a shrine to his lost balls. I opened the window since it didn’t smell that good in here. Frankie had been so anal about my messy bedroom that I figured I needed to make an effort.

“Need any help?” Domer offered from the doorway.

“Nah, it’s not like there’s a lot of stuff in here.” I eyeballed the room and figured I’d done enough and Marta could finish up. “Anyway, I figured out how I can let Frankie know that it’s not on between us.”

He looked pretty doubtful. “Oh boy, one of your big ideas. What is it this time?”

“I’m gonna go out on a date the night she gets here. Then she’ll see that, y’know, that we can go out, but I’m not going out with only her.”

“Yeah, because telling her that straight up wouldn’t work.” He shook his head at me. “Just man up and tell her the truth – if you even know what the truth is.”

“I did tell her, but I don’t think she got it. Besides, I don’t like giving bad news to chicks.” I was also worried that talking to Frankie in person would turn out badly. She was this scary combination of smart and hot, and I felt like I might end up engaged if I raised the whole relationship deal again.

“Are you kidding me? You don’t want to hurt her feelings, so you’re going to go out with someone else in front of her? That’s whacked, even for you.”

“What? It’s not like we were ever really going out or anything.”

Domer didn’t say anything and rolled his eyes, which was his way of saying that he disagreed completely. So I kept talking, probably trying to convince myself more than him. “It’ll probably be a big relief for her. Maybe she’s dating other guys already.”