Last Christmas - 2. Chapter 2

2

“Okay, so I haven’t heard from you in three days. Who the hell is he?”

Frank stood with the front door open as his uninvited guest blew past him and made herself at home.

“Catherine, would you please stop? I really don’t want to talk about him!”

Catherine slipped off her scarf and then began working the gloves off her hands.

Frank took a step back and watched her, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I haven’t seen you this alive in … it feels like forever. So who is he?”

Frank ran his hand over his face and counted to ten before he attempted to stalk back into his kitchen to keep working on his sauce.

“You can run from me, but you can’t hide,” Catherine called from the other room.

A moment later she followed him. Her dark mane was neatly pulled back by a red ribbon she had tied into it, and with the cold having made her cheeks a bright red for a moment Frank couldn’t help but think of Snow White. He knew the image was just that, an image. While Catherine might look sweet and innocent, she had the mouth of a sailor, the mind of a pervert, and a black belt in karate which meant she could take on King Kong and probably win. Why she couldn’t go home and make nice with Brian was beyond him.

“Shouldn’t you be home? You know, with the man you married.”

She smiled sweetly and leaned in.

“Frank, I love you dearly, but Brian has been called into work. One of his patients went into labor early, so I am all yours.”

She smiled again and then came the cackle that Frank had feared.

“You aren’t going to let it go, are you?”

“Hey, at least I know you are finally over that asshole, Peter. I mean, really, he had the personality of a piece of wood. Granted he looked great in all that leather he wore.”

“Cath!”

“Don’t Cath, me. I know a hot man when I see one. The problem is he had about as much upstairs as most doors.”

Frank blushed. “He wasn’t that stupid.”

“Frank, the man had the IQ of a gum wrapper. I’m surprised you lasted as long as you did. I just wish whatever that asshole did hadn’t hurt you like it did.”

Frank tried hard to ignore the feelings that were stirred up when Peter was discussed. It wasn’t like there was much he could do anymore and the ridiculously short time that the two had dated had left him feeling like an idiot. When they had met, he was so happy to have someone fill the sudden void in his life. He guessed if he was going to be honest that he could chalk it up to his libido, but he knew that Peter and he weren’t going to make it the second he was hurt. Peter had no time for someone who wasn’t as hot and mobile as he was. The moment that he found out Frank was going to be walking with a limp; he went into packing mode and was gone before Frank even thought to ask him for help. Since then, dating had gone onto the back burner, or as Catherine put it, he’d become a monk.

“Look, everyone has a dry spell, but my God, your hand can’t be that good!”

“Jesus, do you talk to everyone that way?”

“How long have you known me?” Catherine smiled sweetly and slipped into one of seats by his kitchen island.

Frank shook his head. That was one of the reasons the two of them always got along. She took bullshit from no one and was usually too free with her opinion. He liked how she kept him honest. She could be civil if she wanted to coax something out of him, but she could also be completely frank when she felt someone needed it, especially him.

“There is nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit. I told you all about Brian when we were dating.”

Frank added a little oregano to the sauce and placed the cover over the pot to let it simmer. He considered what he was going to say carefully.

“I never asked you to.”

“No, you just threatened to kill him, sight unseen, if he upset me.”

Frank smiled. He did say that to Catherine when she first said she had met someone.

“So, who is this guy?” Catherine raised her eyebrow and leaned in on the counter to rest her chin on her fists.

“Chris is just a guy at the moment.” Frank paused and shook his head trying to find the words he needed. “I mean that he is a customer, came in and ordered something for his father for Christmas.”

Catherine’s eyes seemed to narrow for a moment.

“Father or Daddy?”

“Get your head out of the gutter. I mean his father, as in, from the loins of.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be. Anyway, there is something about him.” Frank paused and began to picture Chris again.

“Please tell me he isn’t another one all in leather.”

“Oh no, he has lots of leather. I mean he wears a belt, boots, and ...”

“You mean he is normal,” she said as she sliced one of the tomatoes he still had sitting on his chopping board.

“He is as pure as the driven snow, or at least as far as I can tell. I don’t honestly even know if he is gay. Though he has stopped by nearly every day to ask how things are going and to just talk to me about nothing.”

“Hmm.” Catherine took a bite of the tomato wedge.

“And if you are going to start eating the makings for my salad you could at least cut up the rest of it. “

“Slave driver.” She smiled and picked up the rest of the vegetables and began cutting them up and placing them in a bowl. “So is he due over for dinner?”

Frank paused and slowly turned to look at Catherine. “No. God, you’re nosy.”

“I don’t often see you get in a cooking mood. Last time was … Michael back in college. Now that I think of it, that was the last time I really saw you this nervous.” Catherine stopped chopping and turned to look Frank. “You like him.”

“What?”

“You like him. I don’t know why yet, but you definitely like him.”

Frank grew quiet. He just stared at the bread before him, and then he finally drizzled a little extra virgin olive oil over the bread. He then began rubbing a fresh clove of garlic over the oil and the bread. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“So, what are you thinking about?”

“I guess you are right. Do you realize he has been to my shop nearly every day for the past five days? I never know exactly when he will show up, but it is just like out of nowhere, there he suddenly is. Usually it is with a smile and a cup of coffee for me. He never stays long, but I have gotten use to seeing him.”

Catherine leaned back and looked Frank over.

“Alright.”

“Alright what?” Frank looked crossly over at Catherine.

“Alright, so you finally are living again.” Catherine smiled and popped a piece of cucumber into her mouth.

Frank rolled his eyes.

“So, make sure you have enough food for both of us Frank. I’ll go set your table.”

Frank watched as Catherine walked out with plates and cups. He knew the conversation wasn’t over, but Catherine was just the one to help him sort out how he was feeling about the whole thing.

“It’s just pasta and a salad,” he called out.

“So? Besides I want some of that bread you were fixing too.”

“Bitch,” he called out, while trying not to laugh.

“That’s why you love me.”

Frank checked the boiling water and added a splash of oil to it. Then he added enough pasta for both of them.

“Okay, table is all set. So what does your customer look like?”

Frank blushed again.

“Oh, that's good.” Catherine pulled up a stool and sat down. “You know, this isn’t going to be like me trying to get you to go out? I mean, now I know you are interested in someone.”

“Cat, I don’t honestly know if he is even gay. I mean it.”

“So what do you two talk about?”

“Everything I guess. I know he isn’t an only child, his father runs the family business. Seems to be a worldwide operation, but I haven’t gotten him to tell me exactly what it is. I know his section of the business seems to keep him here.” Frank smiled.

“I take it you know that because he keeps stopping by.”

“Umm … Yeah,” Frank muttered as he felt his cheeks heat up as he blushed.

“I’ll let that go for the moment. So what does this guy look like? I mean is he tall, short, fat, thin, or what?”

“Would you give it a rest already?”

“No! So spill.”

“He’s … um … tall, red head; he has begun to grow a beard. It looks sort of sexy on him. Nice trim waist and, well, he has a butt to die for.”

Cat laughed.

Frank was about to go on when the water began to boil over. The two made a dash for the kitchen and the conversation was put off till later.

“So, have you two gone on a date?”

Frank looked up and felt like a deer in the headlights.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Well, I can’t say we went out, but yesterday, as I was closing the shop for lunch, Chris showed up with lunch for both of us.”

“Chris, huh? And what happened?”

“Nothing. You are impossible. We sat and talked. He was there for maybe fifteen minutes. I guess that was the longest I’ve seen him so far.”

“I’ve so got to meet him. Pass me the bread, would you.”

Frank shook his head knowing he was in for a long night of twenty questions.