The Family Firm

Chapter 15

Frankie was on edge. Even though she was on a potent combination of Dexedrine, port, and a little bit of puff, she couldn't help the nervousness that bubbled up in the back of her throat. Fortunately the concoction took the edge off, soothed her nerves and was the only reason she was able to sit in the diner and not leap towards the nearest exit.

They had agreed to meet at Johnny's, her and Donny. It was an American-style diner they had both been fond of. The best part was that there were generally enough people around her that she felt safe (not that he was any real physical threat or anything but she had to be sure) but not too many that she feared their conversation would be eavesdropped. She didn't need anyone sticking their nose into her business, but more importantly, she didn't need Fred finding out.

She hadn't told him about this. Of course she fucking hadn't. She wouldn't hear the end of it if she did—not that Fred would have let her come in the first place. Which was probably her first clue telling her she shouldn't have come regardless. Fred always looked out for her, he always made decisions on what was best for her and Junior, even when his own selfishness came into play. He was always thinking about her, and so knowing he wouldn't approve, she also knew this was a bad decision.

But perhaps it was because of the guilt of all those years she'd mistreated Donny that she actually had rung him, and agreed to meet with him. But they were just going to talk, that's all. She didn't need any complications. They were going to catch up, have themselves a hot meal, and go their separate ways. And if she was lucky, he wouldn't try to contact her or Junior any more.

She'd never been very lucky.

She checked her cubic zirconia-encrusted watch and noted the time—she was still a bit early. While Frankie was known for being fashionably late, she made certain to get there with a good amount of time ahead of her so she had enough time to calm her nerves and let the pills kick in. She needed to be composed for Donny, she needed to look good. She didn't want to dress sexy though, that was out of the question. She'd pulled her hair back, wore tasteful but expensive jewellery (she always knew how to spend on herself), and tried to go for something modest to wear. Unfortunately, she was forced to spend much of the evening trying to cover her ample cleavage, which always seemed to spill out no matter what she did. Normally, this was a good thing. Not today. Not for Donny.

Each chime on the door signalling the arrival of a new guest startled her, and she almost considered doubling up on the pills to keep herself sated. Fortunately, the wait was over soon enough as Donny O'Reilly strode into the diner like he owned the place.

He had always had this great big air about him, something that drew in women of all sorts, Frankie included. She was reminded of when they'd first met at the disco as teenagers. He had the sort of smile that drew you in, a real Hollywood smile, that's what she called it. The way he talked, walked, even the way he looked, all commanded attention, like a celebrity. It was a trait he shared with Freddie, did Donny, which she supposed was why she'd been so infatuated with him in the beginning.

He still looked good, even then—well-dressed, like he had money, with that black Irish hair of his slicked-back, clean-shaven and all. She suddenly felt self-conscious, looking down at her tacky dress and clunky gold jewellery, felt the way the drugs coursed through her system and made everything feel wavy and disorganised. She felt completely inadequate right then, could feel the cheapness of her make-up on her face and her self esteem slowly sinking into the pit of her stomach.

They met gazes, and immediately Donny strode over to her, grinning for England. 'Well, Frankie Evans, look at you.'

'Yeah,' she said, weaker than she wanted to sound, before suddenly clearing her throat and assuming that boldness she was known for. 'It's nice to see you again, Donny.'