Staying Single Page 8

  Mark grinned. "She's never mentioned that to me, Lisa. And please, everyone, call me Mark."

  Francie clamped on to Mark's arm and dragged him toward the living room or "front" room, as her parents called it. "I'm not sure it's a good idea that you came today, Mark. After all, we did agree to keep our relationship strictly business and this isn't exactly in keeping with that."

  "Your mom didn't mention that you'd be here today," he lied. "And at any rate, I don't see a difference in having dinner in a restaurant or in a home. We're still eating."

  "You'll be sorry you accepted. You don't know what it's like being part of an Italian family. Everyone is outspoken and somewhat rude. They don't mean to be, it's just the way it is. Well, I should say, with the exception of my aunt. She's rude, nasty and she means it."

  "I think I can hold my own with Aunt Florence. I've been tested in the battlefield." He grinned and she finally smiled.

  "Don't be too sure. Aunt Flo has issues when it comes to men. I don't think she likes them. Come to think of it, I don't think she likes anyone, especially me."

  "Dinner's ready," Josephine called from the dining room.

  "Are you sure you're up for this? Don't say I didn't warn you."

  "I adore large Italian families."

  "Then I take it you've never had dinner with one like mine before. Talk about battlefields. You'll feel like you've been put through the ringer by the time my mom and aunt get done with you. You've already been lined up as the next sacrificial lamb. And they do a mean interrogation. The Spanish Inquisition had nothing on those two."

  "You mean, lined up for you?"

  Francie nodded. "That's exactly what I mean. If you're smart, you'll leave now and spare us both the aggravation. My mom thinks you'll make an excellent groom. She's already given you the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. When your back is turned she'll take your measurements and order your tuxedo."

  Mark laughed. "Well, it's lucky, then, that I'm quite fond of lamb, isn't it?"

  "It's your funeral."

  "Don't you mean wedding?"

  "Same thing, in my opinion."

  8

  "Get changed," Leo ordered as soon as Francie walked through the doorway of their apartment, her raincoat dripping onto the green-tiled entryway.

  "It's raining like a demon out there. I feel like a drowned rat. I couldn't find a cab and had to walk. I'm not happy with God at the moment. I think He's pissed at me." Just then a boom of thunder exploded, giving credence to her comment. "See? I told you He was pissed."

  Grinning widely, Leo, who looked as excited as a kid who'd been gifted with a new toy on Christmas morning, ignored her weather report. She knew her roommate well enough to know that Leo was up to something, and it probably wasn't something she was going to like. Surprises were part of her roommate's charm, if you could call it that.

  "We're having a party tonight."

  "What?" Francie kicked off her new heels, which were soaked down to the soles and killing her feet, and groaned loudly in protest. "But I'm tired. I've been working all day. Some of us do have to work, Leo. And you said nothing about a party when I got home last night, or this morning, for that matter." She shook out her coat, hanging it on the rack near the front door.

  Francie felt mentally exhausted. After the horrible dinner at her mother's house last night—no food fights occurred, but verbal slings were tossed—and trying to keep her distance from Mark, which was getting harder with every encounter, then the disagreement she'd had with Ted this morning over the size of Mark's deposit, which Ted didn't think was big enough and she thought quite adequate, Francie was definitely not in a party mood.

  "You could have called me at work to let me know about the party. That would have been the polite thing to do."

  "I tried. Didn't that airhead of a receptionist give you my message? I told her to write it down."

  She shook her head, knowing that Gloria wasn't very efficient when it came to relaying messages, and also knowing that Ted hadn't hired the attractive woman for her efficiency or brains.

  "No matter. I really didn't decide about having the party until a few hours ago. But don't worry. I've taken care of everything. The Mexican restaurant down the street, El Gordito's, is going to cater. The food should be here at any moment. It's going to be delish. I've got a guy coming to do the bartending, and the invitations have already been issued via fax, e-mail and phone. It's all taken care of. You won't have to do a thing, except look beautiful."

  Francie's face filled with dismay. "But I have nothing to wear." She'd just dropped off a pile of dresses at the cleaner's, so her wardrobe was a bit sparse at the moment, especially when it came to party clothes, not that she had that many to begin with.

  Unlike most of her single friends, Francie wasn't a party animal. She didn't like going out every night of the week, preferring instead to stay home and have quiet, intimate evenings with friends, watching a movie or just chatting the night away.

  "Who's coming to this shindig of yours, anyway?"

  "Ours, sweetie. It's our party. And everyone is coming." He put a CD into the player and the room came alive with mariachi music. "I invited all of my friends, some of yours and several of our neighbors."

  Neighbors, being the operative word, Francie thought, trying hard not to sway in time to "Celito Lindo," but finding it difficult. She also found it difficult not to physically abuse her roommate.

  "Mark's coming to the party, isn't he?" Did Leo never tire of meddling? He was getting to be as bad as her mother, or maybe he was worse. She couldn't really decide.

  And it wasn't that she didn't enjoy Mark's company. Quite the opposite, in fact. She enjoyed it too damn much. Being in his company was very addictive. Mark was so different than the other men she had dated—attentive without being fawning, always laughing and finding the humor in every situation. She could definitely get used to being with Mark on a full-time basis.

  And therein lay the problem.

  "Of course he's invited. I owe him for the camera lessons. And it wouldn't have been very neighborly to exclude him, now would it?"

  She heaved a sigh and for the first time noticed the piñata, streamers and colorful decorations that Leo had strung up around the apartment.

  Chips, salsa, guacamole dip and other appetizers waited for guests on the coffee and end tables, and a full pitcher of margaritas rested on the dining room table, waiting for unsuspecting revelers. Leo made a mean margarita.

  "The apartment looks very festive, Leo, which makes me think you've got too much time on your hands. You need to find a job and work like normal people, instead of sitting around all day, thinking of ways to spend your money."

  "If you hurry and change, I'll give your suggestion some thought," he promised, fingers crossed behind his back. "There's a surprise for you on your bed. I hope you like it. When I saw it today I couldn't resist. It was so you."

  "You mean, Pierce Brosnan is visiting?"

  Leo grinned. "Not quite, sweetie, but close. It's something I thought you could use for the party tonight."

  Another gift. Francie sighed. Leo was always buying her presents. And though she appreciated his thoughtfulness and generosity, she wasn't in a financial position to reciprocate, which made her feel bad.

  "Thank you, Leo, but you shouldn't spend your money on me. I've told you that before." At his woebegone expression, she suddenly felt petty and finally relented. "But it was very thoughtful of you. I'm sure I'll love whatever it is you've bought me."

  "Of course you will. I have excellent taste. And you're really so easy to buy for. I just thought Catherine Zeta-Jones, and pumped it up a notch."

  Good Lord! She should be so kicky to have that woman's face and body. Even when the actress was pregnant, which seemed frequently, she looked better than Francie.

  "I want to put on a really good show tonight, don't you?"

  Filled with suspicion, Francie's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Is your new boyfriend coming tonight? Is
that what this is all about?" It seemed every time Leo found a new friend, he had to celebrate with a party or dinner out. Francie was usually his partner in dine.

  The blond man grinned. "I just bought this new silk shirt. Isn't it divine? And blue is so my color: I can't wait for Phil to see me in it."

  Francie rolled her eyes but the doorbell rang before she could comment, which was very lucky for Leo.

  The woman was proving to be impossible.

  Mark wondered if his scheme to lure Francie to the altar was ever going to pan out. She'd turned avoidance into an art form. Lucky for him that Josephine had done her best to throw them together last night or he'd never have made any connection whatsoever.

  Not that you could call chitchat in front of the relatives a connection, but it was better than nothing. They had listened to Placido Domingo CDs while sitting on the sofa together, though she hadn't seemed particularly affected by the romantic songs. Of course, her grandmother and mother singing along at the tops of their lungs could have accounted for that.

  Cats in heat had more musical ability.

  The Morellis were definitely a breed unto their own. They fought with each other such as dogs over a bone, cursed the most inane things, like whether or not sugar should be added to spaghetti sauce, or gravy, as they called it, and laughed at the drop of a hat at inside jokes that apparently had been going on for years.

  It was clear they loved each other, but it was definitely in their own way, and not what he was used to.

  Mark's family was affectionate, respectful and kind to each other, in both word and deed. They had their share of disagreements, as did most families, but they weren't verbally abusive and they certainly didn't curse one another.

  The Fieldings were almost boring by comparison to the Morellis.

  It might have been a good thing that Matt had escaped becoming a member of such a volatile family. Mark wasn't sure his little brother would have been up for it, or would have approved of their shenanigans.

  Matt was conservative, down to his silk boxer shorts. He was reserved in his dress, almost strait-laced when it came to reputation, public displays of affection, or making a scene; that was the lawyer in him. And hearing Josephine call her sister a "demented old whore" might very well have put him right over the edge.

  Francie, on the other hand, seemed to take it all in stride, though she'd had a moment of embarrassment when Grandma Abrizzi had pulled up the skirt of her dress to reveal that her stockings were rolled up with old-fashioned elastic garters. Mark found the outspoken old woman, who felt the need to comment on everything, amusing.

  The opportunities for wooing last night had definitely been limited.

  Fortunately, Mark would have another chance with Francie this evening, and he intended to make the most of it. Thanks to Leo, he and Ms. Morelli would be thrown together once again. And there wouldn't be many heterosexual men at the party to offer much competition.

  There were definite advantages to having a gay male friend, now that he thought about it.

  Smiling into the mirror, Mark had just knotted the blue silk tie he'd bought this afternoon when his cell phone rang.

  "Hey, bro! How's life treating you?"

  Mark was surprised to hear Mart's voice. "I thought you were in Maui with Mom and Dad." If his family had arrived home early, it would ruin everything.

  "I am. We're having a pretty nice time, considering what prompted the trip."

  He could hear the pain in his brother's voice. Matt was obviously still hurting over Francie, which validated the distasteful job Mark had to do.

  He'd had misgivings, given serious thought about chucking the entire scheme. There'd been times when Francie didn't seem to be the heartless witch he thought her to be. But then he remembered how she'd hurt his brother and those other men she obviously cared nothing about, and he knew he had to go through with it.

  "Time will make things better, Matt. You'll see."

  "I guess. Say, how come you're not in Afghanistan? I wasn't expecting you to answer your cell. I was planning to leave a message, to let you know we were all doing okay."

  Unwilling to raise his brother's suspicions, Mark thought quickly. "The assignment ended sooner than I expected, so I came back to Philadelphia. I'll be heading off again in a day or two. I'm just waiting to hear where they're going to send me, probably Iraq, now that things are heating up over there."

  "Well, be careful. Mom and Dad are worried about you. It's all they've been talking about. I'm not going to mention Iraq. That would freak them out and spoil their trip."

  Mark felt like crap for deceiving his parents. Lying and pretense went against his grain. It was the worst part of this whole fiasco. "I think that's wise. And don't you worry, either, bro. The A.P. has taken every precaution to ensure all of our safety."

  "Glad to hear it."

  Mark could hear the rhythmic sound of the ocean waves in the background. Matt must have been using his cell phone on or near the beach. "So tell me, Matt, are you enjoying yourself? Got a tan yet?"

  "It's beautiful here. If I didn't have a job that I loved so much back in Philadelphia, I'd move here in a heartbeat. It's so relaxing and peaceful and just what I needed to get my mind off…things."

  "You can find a position in a law firm in Maui just as easily as you did here at home. Though I know Mom and Dad would miss you, especially since I'm gone most of the time."

  "Yeah, that's one of the reasons I've hesitated to make a move. Mom and Dad aren't getting any younger, and I'd worry about them if I lived so far away."

  Matt had shouldered the responsibility for their parents for years, while Mark had traveled the world, doing pretty much what he pleased. Perhaps it was time he did his part in allowing his brother to spread his wings. The change would be good for Matt, and maybe for him, too. Mark had been rootless for too long.

  "Once this next job is done I'm thinking about asking for assignments closer to home. Perhaps then, you can think about making the move you want, to wherever you want."

  Excitement filled Mart's voice. "If you're serious, then I'll definitely give the idea of relocation some thought, perhaps check into a few firms while I'm here. Putting distance between myself and Philadelphia appeals to me at the moment."

  "Do it, bro. I'm serious." Mark was only sorry he'd waited so long to make the offer.

  "So, have you been haunting your old hangouts since you've been back? Bars are great places to find women. I hope you've had the opportunity to meet some," Matt stated.

  Mark felt another twinge of guilt. "Just one, but she's no one I want to get involved with on a permanent basis."

  "You're smart. I'm going to remain a bachelor. It's much safer and far less painful than having your heart broken. I finally figured that out, though it took me a while."

  Mark felt relieved and sad at the same time. It was never pleasant to have your illusions shattered.

  They chatted for a few more minutes, then Mark set down his cell phone and looked in the mirror. The man who stared back was handsome, suave and filled with purpose. He knew what he had to do, and he was going to do it.

  "You haven't got a chance, Francie, honey. I'll make you beg for it before this night is through."

  Francie stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror nailed to her closet door and felt like crying.

  The wine-red dress was gorgeous, but way too tight. Leo had purchased a size eight instead of a ten. She felt like a stuffed sausage. Every lump of cellulite she owned showed, and her boobs, which were usually not a consideration, were out there, in a major way.

  Okay, so Dolly Parton had nothing to fear, but Francie felt downright stacked.

  "How am I going to wear this dress in front of Mark?" she asked her reflection, sighing deeply. "He'll think I'm making a move on him. And that's the last impression I want to give." First her grandmother bares her bony knees to the man, and now Francie was going to hang her boobs in his face.

  Mark was going to think t
hat the women of her family were all sex crazed. In truth, they were just crazed.

  Not that she gave a damn about what he thought, but still…

  Not wearing the dress would hurt Leo's feelings, and she couldn't do that. The man was sensitive about such things and was likely to pout for days afterward. "Damn, I'm screwed either way!"

  The upside was that, lumps aside, she looked pretty good. The silk dress came to mid-thigh and the sheer black Donna Karan nylons made her legs—one of her best features—look sexy, not to mention firm, which would make up for her non-firm butt.

  Catherine Zeta-Jones wouldn't be losing any sleep over Francesca Morelli, unfortunately.

  "There you are, sweetie," Leo said when Francie entered the already crowded living room. "My, but you look fabulous. Doesn't Francie look gorgeous, Phil?" he asked his companion.

  Leo's new friend gave her the once-over, smiled a fake smile, which made Francie dislike him instantly, and nodded. It was obvious that fake-ass Phil, which she now decided to call him, wasn't quite as impressed with her appearance as the blue-eyed man now sauntering over in her direction, looking as if he could devour her in one huge bite.

  Speaking of which—

  Mark looked yummy. Spread that man with chocolate and whipped cream and I could eat him for—

  "Hello, Mark. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon." He grinned in response and she nearly fell over on her spiked heels.

  And what was that delicious aftershave he was wearing?

  Warning: implosion imminent!

  "Wow! Terrific dress. You look quite different tonight, Ms. Morelli. Hot comes to mind."

  He winked and she blushed down to the toes of her Jimmy Choo shoes. "Thank you. I'm glad to see that you survived my family."

  "I liked them. Well, maybe not Aunt Flo, she was a bit hard to take, but everyone else was great." Reaching over, he lifted two margaritas off the tray on the side table and handed her one.

  "Well, if you didn't like my aunt, then I'd say that you definitely have good taste."