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Frankie nearly spits out his drink, “Ha, you can barely afford that car dude. Who you trying to impress? You should be focusing on your new girl. Catherine isn’t the type to change her mind. I would know.”
My feet halt, my gaze shifting from shooting daggers into Palmer’s back to trying to interpret Frankie’s words.
“And how would you know that Frankie? Or anything about her?” Palmer’s voice fills with a defensiveness that I share.
“Relax, it’s not like that. She’s not my type, she’s too full of herself.” Frankie laughs at Palmer before taking another sip. “My dad has been trying to get her to come back here and work. As if I need the help.” His hollow laugh echoes off the high ceiling and dies a lonely death in the shadows. “She’s refused him over a dozen times. She thinks she’s so much smarter than me but I’m the one managing here. I told Dad that. Even if he convinces her to come back, she’ll have to report to me, and she knows I’ll make her life a living hell.”
I had no idea any of this was going on. Catherine never mentioned conversations with Mr. Franklin. I know she is missing her family, but would she even consider returning to Mesa? To this shit show of a place?
The scrape of Palmer’s chair across the dance floor halts Frankie’s speech. “That’s work. I’m talking about play. She should have never left me and I’m not going to stop until she sees what a mistake it was. She’ll either come back to me or she’ll continue to see me everywhere she goes. See everything she passed up. Fancy car… fancy life.”
Another face I don’t recognize stirs from a half slumber, feet spread wide, drink nearly slipping out of his hand. “That’s messed up dude. You’ve got a girlfriend already. She seems sweet.”
“Shut the hell up Bryant,” Palmer spits. “You don’t know shit. Claire is just a prop like my car. It’s to show Catherine the error of her ways. I know her better than she knows herself. I know what she needs, what she really wants. It’s me. She just hasn’t put it together yet. But she will tomorrow.”
My body tenses up with the mention of tomorrow. The wedding. Not even delusional Palmer would risk pulling a scene at someone else’s wedding.
“Dude, that’s messed up,” Bryant returns undeterred. He stumbles to his feet. “I’m out of here. I don’t want to know anymore. Just don’t mess up Carlos’ wedding or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“Mess up?” Palmer stands, using the back of the chair to steady himself. “What could be better to happen at a wedding than two long-lost lovers reuniting? I won’t do anything at the ceremony but once we’re here at the reception, all bets are off. Frankie gets it, that’s why he’s switched the cards on the seating chart. Catherine is going to be sitting right next to me. By the time they play the last dance, she’ll be in my arms.”
“Hear, hear.” Frankie hops to his feet. There is no stumble or sway like the others. Frankie is a highly functional drunk. He runs a catering hall with a bar. I’m sure this is just another Friday night for him. “Tomorrow is going to be…. wait for it…” He lifts his glass to the sky, staring up at it as if it’s a sword pulled from a sheath. The room goes silent, and I remain frozen in the shadows. “…. Legendary.”
The small group of men fall into laughter at a joke that is as old and stale as Frankie. I ignore the lame joke as concern floods my veins. Concern that Frankie is not only a piss poor manager of the facility but also an enabling tool for an out-of-control Palmer. First calling him to ambush Catherine, then allowing him to hijack the bachelor party, and now, letting Palmer use the facility to manipulate the seating charts. While Frankie is enabling, Palmer is proving to be dangerous. Far worse than the clueless fool I had initially pegged him for. He’s not harmlessly heartbroken, he’s a cruel little man bent on exacting revenge for a misperceived slight.
I slink in the shadows and listen to the party break up; the guys oblivious to my presence. My thoughts shift to later today. Catherine is walking into an ambush. One that I’ve left her to face alone. I may have walked away from our fake relationship and I’m the last person she probably wants to hear from right now, but I must find a way to warn her.
