“I’m used to it, Sam,” she replies coldly. She vanishes down the stairs, and when she’s out of sight and earshot, Gus sticks his nose up in the air and mimics her feminine sway, which cracks me up.
“Though you have to admit Malia’s pretty freaking beautiful,” he says.
“I don’t have to admit anything. Several deadly species of animals throughout the world are pretty freaking beautiful, Gus. Like tigresses. You just saw one. No thanks, man—I’ll take Frannie any day.”
He grins and nods. “Can’t go wrong with Frannie Freeman,” he says. “Let’s go. Bet you ten bucks I can beat you by five points in racquetball.”
“Best of five,” I challenge him, satisfied to see him blanch. “Twenty bucks if you beat me all five games.”
“You’re on,” he says manfully, but I know it’s an easy twenty bucks. He’s never beat me more than two games in a row. “And I’ll get it back by betting you she doesn’t show up in Vegas. Fran’s not that kind of girl.”
“Eh? Then what kind of girl is she, know-it-all?”
“The best kind.”
Can’t argue with that kind of logic. But I do hope she comes; the Garden of Love wedding chapel sounds like a fine idea, if I can talk Frannie into it without the benefit of even a first date. There’s plenty of time for dating after the honeymoon.