Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
We have to backtrack past his house to get to the golf course. He lives out here with all the rich folks, while I live back with the nine-to-fivers. There’s a vast difference between us, but Frankie doesn’t seem to care.
He pulls into a massive parking lot that is halfway full of cars. I open my door before he has a chance to come around, but he’s there to help me out all the same. I accept his hand, standing up to breathe in the fresh afternoon air. He shuts the car and locks it with his key fob, and we walk together into the clubhouse to rent our clubs.
“You don’t have your own set of clubs?” I ask.
“I do,” he replies. “But since we’re renting a set for you, I thought I’d do the same.”
I study him for a moment, wondering why it makes more sense for him to pay extra. This must be something that rich people do, not considering the cost.
“I don’t play very often,” he explains. “And I haven’t been out here in years.”
“In years?” I gasp, surprised to learn that it’s not something he does every week.
“Golf is a means to an end most of the time,” he shares. “It’s a place for my dad to meet with his business partners. I usually just tag along. But it’s actually kind of fun if you just focus on the game.”
I consider the wealth of information he just shared, filing it away for further exploration later in the day. He’s revealed that he has some contact with his father’s business, but possibly not for several years. That’s good news. The less involved he is with his family’s crimes, the better. I chastise myself silently. I’m not here to protect Frankie from my investigation; I should just follow the trail of clues wherever it leads. But I don’t want him to be involved, so I grasp at threads that seem to prove his innocence.
He’s right; golf is kind of fun. I don’t realize how much force it takes to drive the ball until I’ve tried a few swings. I’m horrible at it, and the ball stops a long way away from the hole. Frankie beats me hands down, sinking his first ball in only three tries.
“So par is four for this hole, that puts me one under,” he explains.
“What about me?” I ask.
“Seven?” he teases. “That’s three over par.”
I laugh, knowing that I’m going to have to do better if I have any chance of winning. We talk about unimportant things as we walk. We both hate calculus and spend a long time comparing the classes we took in high school and college. We both like ice cream, although I favor rocky road and he likes vanilla. We both played an instrument in elementary school, but neither of us were serious enough to continue after childhood.
After the golf game, we walk back to the car. I don’t want this day to end, so I decide to invite him back to my place. “What are you up to now?” I ask.
“I have some things I have to do,” he says vaguely.
“Do you want to come back to my place?” I suggest, hoping he’ll take me up on the invitation.
“I do,” he replies. “But I can’t.”
We stand next to each other beside the car. He slides a finger through my hair, pinching a strand before tucking it behind my ear. I can sense the honesty in his voice, but there’s something else. He doesn’t want to do the things he has to do, and he won’t tell me what they are. Warning bells ring inside my head, but I ignore them. I only want to think the best of him, and I don’t want to consider the fact that he’s neck-deep in all his father’s dealings.
“Okay,” I reply. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow I’m busy,” he shoots me down. “But Friday we could get together.”
“Friday,” I agree. “What are you doing? Studying for the exam?”
He doesn’t answer, and that says more to me than any lie he might come up with. He drops me off at my apartment, and I immediately call Mario.
“What have you found out?” I ask before even saying hello.
“I’ve seen some of the same characters go back and forth,” Mario reports.
I sigh. I’m not sure there’s an advantage to continuing the surveillance of the restaurant. “Maybe take the day off,” I say. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”
“You’re the boss,” Mario replies.
I replay the golf game over and over in my head, but the only thing I remember is how Frankie made me feel. I really like him, and that’s dangerous. I don’t want to lose sight of what I’m planning to do. Danny needs me, now more than ever. And I can’t abandon him just because I’ve found someone who understands me.