MadameFrankie (6 page)

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

“Jazz to Earth.” She snapped her fingers in his face.

“Yeah, El. I’m fine,” he responded, coming around.

“I hope so. Ten hours to ground zero. Bargain Hunter hits
the tarmac at fifteen-hundred hours.”

“Got it.”

In spite of the previous night, Jazz knew he had to pull it
together and concentrate. This evening’s presidential fundraiser was vitally
important. Nothing, no matter how heartbreakingly painful, could get in the way
of him doing his job. He was determined to make sure everything moved smoothly
and went down without a hitch. Crisis situations always presented themselves.
But he had a reputation for slaying even the fieriest of dragons. And even
though his romantic dilemma with Frankie was an exceptional challenge, he had a
national duty to perform. Staff depended on him. El depended on him. The
President of the United States depended on him.

And so he forced the pain he couldn’t shake to energize him.
He made sure the heaviness in his heart would fortify, not weigh down his focus
on the business at hand. He determined that the look of grief El had seen when
he met her in the lobby, would transmogrify into a look of grit.

With a new stride in his walk El was quick to notice, Jazz
headed toward the conference room. It had been designated the check-in and
holding area for catering personnel.

“Morning, Bishop,” he said to the secret service advance
agent without looking at him. He took mental note of each member of the
catering team waiting to be transported to the Streisand Malibu compound.

“Hey, Jazz.”

“Everybody accounted for?”

“Yep. Cochran and Stevens will do the final security scan as
we load them onto transportation.”

“Great. Need anything else from me?”

“Just make sure your team’s out front in fifty-five
minutes,” Agent Bishop said, checking his watch. “We need to be on the road by
noon.”

“I’m calling El now,” Jazz said, pressing a button on his
cell and putting it to his ear, having ignored the incoming call from Frankie.

* * * * *

Frankie knew how busy Jazz was going to be today so she
wasn’t surprised her two phone calls to him went unanswered. The night before
didn’t end as either one of them wanted or expected. She knew that played as
much into their incommunicado as did his service to the president.
But hell
,
she thought,
it’s not like he’s advising Obama on the fucking Arab Spring
uprisings. He’s wrangling the goddamn wait staff, for Chrissakes!

Frankie immediately felt bad about her flippant frame of
mind. But not so bad as to ignore Jazz’s attempt to drag her to the altar.

She decided to let it go, dressed in something fashionably
cute and decided to treat herself to an early lunch at
Café D’ Etoile
in
West Hollywood.

* * * * *

Étienne, Frankie’s brother-in-law and ex-husband, was the
first to see her seated at an outside table at one of their favorite
restaurants.

“Look, baby,” Étie said to his husband Jesse, beaming. “Your
sister!”

“Frankie?” Jesse said, sneaking up behind her and giving her
a big smooch on the back of the neck.

“Hey, Junie,” she grinned, calling him by the nickname all
his siblings used. She turned to him, took his hug and then hugged Étie. “Hey,
gorgeous man.”

“
Hola, mi hermana.”

“You by yourself?” Jess asked, grabbing the seat across from
her.

“Not anymore. Sit.”

Étienne sat down between them.

“So where’s that handsome stud of yours?” Jesse continued.

“Working. You know they’re doing that big Obama fundraiser
out at Barbra Streisand’s tonight.”

“Oh yeah. That’s right. You’re not going?”

“At twenty-five grand a pop? I don’t think so,” she said,
motioning to Joshua, the waiter.

“Boyfriend couldn’t pull any strings?”

“Not twenty-five thousand dollars worth.”

“Hey guys.”

“Hey Josh.”

“
Hola
Joshua.”

“How’s my favorite married couple?” he asked, handing Jesse
and Étie menus.

“Still honeymooning,” Jesse said, pecking Étie on the cheek
and squeezing his hand.

“What’s it been, four years now?”

“Yep,” Étie answered, staring into Jesse’s eyes, kissing him
lightly on the lips.

“Good for you guys. Want anything from the bar?”

“Baby?” Jesse asked Étie.

“Just coffee and orange juice.”

“Me too,” said Jesse.

“Great. Give you guys some time to look at your menus.
Frankie, you want me to hold your order and bring it with theirs?”

“Sure, Josh. That’s fine. But you can bring me another
Bloody Mary?”

“You got it,” Josh said, walking toward the entrance just
off the patio. Frankie couldn’t take her eyes off his cute little bubble-butt.

“Girl, you need to quit.” Jesse smirked.

“What?”

“Josh’s gay and you’re in a relationship.”

“A cute ass is a cute ass. And who says I’m in a
relationship?”

“You and Jazz are not—”

“No, Étienne. Even though he seems to think so.”

“Uh-oh,” Jesse huffed.

“What, Junie?”

“I hope you’re not leading him on.”

“He asked me to marry him.”

“What?” Étie beamed. “What did you say, Francesca?”

“I told him I’d think about it. But I did tell him I wasn’t
feeling getting married again.”

“Why not? The fifth time could be the charm.”

“Excuse me, big brother, but I think after four I’m pretty
much over the marriage thing.”

“So why did you tell him you’d think about it?”

“Can’t a diva have options?”

“So you might say yes.”

“And I might say no, which is where I’m leaning.”

“You guys make such a beautiful couple.”

“No, Étie,
you
guys make a beautiful couple. Jazz and
I are simply serious friends with benefits.”

“But you do at least love him,” Jesse stated.

“Yeah, just not enough to marry him.”

“Well if you love him, why don’t you marry him?”

“My God, Junie, why does everybody want me to get married
again?”

“If she is not feeling it, baby, then we should not push
it.”

“Thank you, Étie.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s talk about something else.”

“Here you go, Frankie,” Josh said, placing a fresh Bloody
Mary in front her.

“Thanks Josh,” she said, taking a much-needed sip.

* * * * *

It was a long and contemplative drive back home from West
Hollywood for Frankie. She didn’t know whether she was pissed, confused,
cynical, callous or confounded. Having to convince everyone she didn’t want to
get married again was becoming tired and hackneyed.

Yes, marriage worked beautifully for some people. Jessie and
Étie were ideally hitched. Trudy and Michael’s marriage was about as idyllic as
they come. The marriage of Frankie and Jesse’s parent couldn’t have been
better. The passing of their father was the only thing that brought it to an
end.

Indeed, Frankie couldn’t have been happier for all of them
and for all the other happy Williams and Kates of the world.

But she had already conceded the obvious to herself. After
four marriages to some pretty decent men, she had come to realize she simply
was not built to settle down with just one.

As wonderful as Jazz was and he was indeed that, she knew
her need for variety would eventually sound the alarm. Her adventurous sexual
nature would have to be satisfied. That phone call from Edgar was telling.
Calling out his name while being sexed down by Jazz spoke volumes.

She had no need to convince herself who she was and what she
wanted. She was fully sanctioned and affirmed.

Frankie lived by her own code of ethics. She was not a
cheater. She never cheated on any of her husbands. But when she felt the need
to explore other men, she simply filed for a divorce and moved on to the next
carnal adventure.

And of course when she was not married, she availed herself
freely and fortuitously. Sex was this wonderful gift from a generous God. And
she was determined to show her gratitude every chance she got. And so as she
pulled into her driveway and parked, she decided she would tell Jazz no.

As she got out of her car, her phone rang. The caller ID
read Pam Stiles. It was her agent, a good and surprising sign. It had been a
long while.

“Well hello, stranger,” she answered.

“Hey yourself. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. Filling my semi-retirement with plenty of
extracurricular activities.”

“Well looks like the drought is finally breaking.”

“Halle-fuckin’-lujah,” Frankie sighed. She was more than
aware of how youth-oriented the fickle TV audiences were. They had hundreds of
shows, stars, demi-stars and wannabee celebs to choose from. And she wasn’t
getting any younger or more famous. “What’s up?”

“You are, star. Gotta call from Shonda Rhimes’ office. They
want to meet with you.”

“Serious?”

“Yep. She’s got a new straight-to-air show she thinks you
might be right for.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s called
The Supremes
.”

“What? They wanna cast me as Diana Ross’ mother?”

“It’s a play on words, silly. A behind-the-scenes drama about
a group of California State Supreme Court justices. They want to talk to you
about being one of the judges, a kind of a young Maxine Waters type.”

“Great!”

“Can you do a lunch meeting tomorrow at two?”

“Can a camel cross a desert?”

“Le Dome. Two p.m.”

“Got it.”

“Okay. I’ll call them back and confirm.”

“Hey, Pam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for everything. Thanks for sticking with me.”

“It’s an honor representing talent like you, Miss Francesca
Templeton.”

Those in attendance were the Who’s Who of Hollywood royalty.
David Geffen, Jeffrey Katzenberg, Mike Medavoy, will.i.am, Brad Pitt and
Angelina Jolie, Morgan Freeman, Daniel Radcliffe, Quinton Tarantino, 50 Cent,
Ricky Martin, Ashton Kutcher, Whoopi Goldberg, Will and Jada Pinkett Smith,
Meryl Streep, Matt Damon, Ellen DeGeneres, Bill Maher, Oprah Winfrey, Lady
Gaga, The Weinstein brothers, Jay-Z and Beyonce. These were just a few of the
more than two hundred celebrities who paid twenty-five thousand dollars a plate
to have dinner with the President of the United States at the home of Barbra
Streisand. Security was as tight as a Fort Knox vault.

Dinner was exquisitely served and the president spoke his
gratitude eloquently while the celebrated guests concluded their meal with
baked Alaska, coffee and after-dinner drinks. The evening was a rousing success
and was pulled off without a hitch.

El gave Jazz a silent thumbs-up as the president spoke. Jazz
smiled graciously, then gave the room a final once-over before disappearing
onto a beachfront terrace. He nodded to the secret service agents stationed
there who were keen to chatter on their earphones. The gentle whoosh of ocean
waves ebbing along the beach brought a certain relieving calm to the officious
affair.

Jazz looked out over the Pacific, sparkling under the gaze
of a full moon. He had fully disciplined himself throughout the day and
evening. He kept focused on the business of the president throughout and didn’t
allow the thoughts of Frankie to deter him from his duties.

But now his duties were over, or at least were ending for
the day. Thoughts of the president, the White House and the election were
retreating like the ebbing ocean waves. Upon his shore were sadly sweetened
thoughts, conflicted feelings and deep, painful desires for the woman he loved
and wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Upon his shore was Frankie. He loved her so. He couldn’t
bear the thought of losing her.

That she had to think about marrying him was a concern. He
knew she loved him. But he also knew her devotion to him was not as great as
his devotion to her. The thought of the inequality caused a vexing melancholia
to settle into his otherwise optimistic state of mind, state of heart.

He moved to the far end of the terrace, away from the
agents. He stared down over the banister at the sandy beach below. He then
stared up at the sky full of stars and the moon, reflected on the water.

He saw her face everywhere.

“I love you so much, Frankie,” he found himself whispering
to the night. The night didn’t answer.

He checked his watch and noted the time. He tried to smile a
bit, but barely managed it. He heaved. It was half past nine. His parents were
no doubt lounging in their dressing room, smoking a joint and getting ready to
go on for their final Los Angeles performance.

He pulled out his cell and speed-dialed his mother.

“Ma?”

“Hey, sugah plum,” his mom answered, a big wide grin in her
voice.

“Sorry I’m just getting around to calling you guys. Today’s
been kinda crazy.”

“No problem, baby. How’s the fundraiser going?”

“Going well. It’s winding down. The president is thanking
the guests.”

“Good, good.”

“Really had a great time with you and Dad last night.”

“Well we had a good time with you too. And it was so nice
finally meeting Frankie.”

“Yeah.”

There was a silence, save for the ocean’s waves flirting
with the shore.

“You sound a little down. You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little beat. Today was a
lot of stress.”

“What about last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“After you and Frankie dropped us off.”

“We’re okay. She’s okay. We’re just…”

“What, baby?”

“I am so in love with her, Mom.”

“I know you are. I could tell. How does she feel?”

“I know she loves me, but…”

“But what?”

“I want to marry her.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“I really do.”

“How does she feel about marrying you?”

“I think she wants to, but I’m not sure.”

“Have you asked her yet?”

“Not directly.”

“What do you mean?”

“I kinda told her I was planning on asking her.”

“And what did she say to that?”

“That she would kinda think about it.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think, Ma. I mean, I feel
left up in the air, not sure if I’m going to float away or land somewhere.”

“You’re such a wonderfully hopeless romantic, baby.”

“Am I?”

“You’ve been around romantic love all your life. You can’t
help yourself. I know you see me and your daddy and you say to yourself,
‘that’s what I want one day.’ Well, one day doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Let
love breathe. Frankie is a nice lady and a good actress. She tried her best to
maintain her cool. But I could see she felt like a deer in a set of
headlights.”

“But I love her, Ma.”

“I know. And I’m pretty sure she loves you too. But don’t
try to rush her into something she’s not ready for right now. I don’t think
she’s going anywhere. And I sure as heck know you’re not.”

“I just want us to be together forever.”

“Remember the last time you felt that way?”

There was a deafening silence. Jazz thought he had gotten
over it. But the pain of the break up with his ex came back like an arrow in
the heart.

“Baby?”

“Yeah…Ma.” He was hardly able to speak. “I remember.”

“Learn from your mistakes. I know it doesn’t seem possible,
but sometimes…sometimes you can love too much. You have to learn to love just
right.”

“I’ll try.”

“And try to understand. Love is a partnership. It’s not
about just what you want. It’s also about what they want.”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, baby. Now go get our president elected. And
go take care of your woman without smothering her to death.”

* * * * *

On the long ride back to the city from Malibu, Jazz thought
about everything his mother had said. He was indeed a hopeless romantic. And he
had to be careful not to smother Frankie with his love.

But he also knew logic was no match for his renegade heart.
He loved hard. Always did. Always would. It was a flaw he couldn’t help and
frankly, didn’t want corrected.

And yet, as his mother so clearly pointed out, he didn’t
want his passion, his unyielding desires, to chase away the great new love of
his life. Not again. He couldn’t let that happen again.

Still, he needed to see her. He needed to be with her.
Tonight.

He pulled out his phone and speed-dialed her number.

“Jazz, hi.” Her sweet voice melted him.

“Hi,” he answered in a whisper.

“So how did it go?”

“Hollywood loves them some Obama,” he chuckled softly.

“I had no doubt.”

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“May I come by tonight?”

“Sure, Jazz. I’d really like to see you.”

His heart raced.

“We’re on the 101 freeway, at the end of Pacific Coast
Highway. We should be back at the hotel in about a half an hour. I’ll pick up
my rental and be at your place in about an hour?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Okay.”

They hung up. He was on cloud nine. He heard love in her
voice. Hope was in the air. He couldn’t wait to be with her again.

Maybe she had thought about it long and hard and was ready
for them to spend the rest of their lives together as a loving married couple.

He was so glad he still had the velvet-cased ring in his
pocket.