Frankie towered over me, squinting down. “Then I think you better start talking.”
“My editor wants a photo shoot. She says an interview won’t do us any good, because for all intents and purposes you’ve been out of the New York scene. In short, no one knows you anymore.”
Dammit. I’d just insulted Frankie again.
To my surprise, he smiled and nodded. “Your editor’s very perceptive. Being out of New York ain’t doing the Burelli label any favors, is it? So, how are we doing this gig?”
Shocked by his easy capitulation, I was speechless.
“You think just because I live here now I’ve forgotten how competitive the fashion world is?” He settled down on the sofa again. “Show a little more insight, Jaworski. Or you’ll make me think your degree from Columbia was nothing but a piece of paper.”
He smiled smugly. Looked like I wasn’t the only one who’d done some research.
Ignoring the arrogant look on his face, I opened my satchel and laid out several pieces of paper with my ideas for a magazine spread.
“You got backbone, girl. That’s what I expect from the old ’hood. How’s your brother Steve doin’? He marry his high school sweetheart?”
“Steve?” My head jerked up. “You know my big brother?”
“I used to have a big crush on him back in the day, but he wouldn’t even throw me a bone, know what I mean? You weren’t around us much then, just a little squirt, still in preschool.”
Despite myself, I laughed. I couldn’t imagine Frankie pining for my brother, the nerd. Though Steve was good looking and totally buff thanks to hours in the gym, he was a bona fide bookworm, complete with straight As in high school that had catapulted him to the head of his class at MIT.
“Steve married a medical doctor he met while both of them were students in Boston. He runs his own software company in Hoboken.”
“Ah, almost a cliché, but at least he chose MIT instead of Harvard, Yale, or heaven forbid, Brown.” Frankie lost his gangster edge, and hints of the well-bred prep school boy emerged.
“Why don’t you like us, Frankie?” His words grated on me, and I felt the need to defend myself, my brother, and our neighborhood.
“Because you’re all clichés. In fact, all of us are clichés. Upper middle class Westfield with the kids dreaming of Ivy League colleges or Rutgers. My older brother was sent to Harvard Law with the intention of becoming my father’s consigliere. My younger brother went off to Princeton to study accounting. I don’t have to explain to you why. And my baby sister? Harvard Medical School for reasons you can already deduce.”
“What about you? What did your father want you to do?”
“MIT for computer programming. He figured since I had the hots for Steve, I’d agree.”
“Your father knew you were gay even back then?”
Frankie snorted. “He thought it was a phase I’d grow out of, but he wasn’t above using it against me. He didn’t want a sissy fashion designer in The Family. But it wasn’t a phase, and I didn’t get over it. I won’t let anyone back me into a corner, not even my own father. Not even when he cast me aside for being queer.”
“So, that’s why you refused to go to MIT?”
“That. And because of your brother.”
I gasped.
Frankie gave me a stern look. “You see, Steve was always a perfect gentleman. So friggin’ painfully straight, he wouldn’t know what to do with me if he tried. But he had to know I carried a torch for him. I mean, I ain’t the most subtle man about what I want, if you get my drift.” He shook his head. “Fuggin’ A. I got a hell of a track record. Always fallin’ for the heteros. Don’t know what’s wrong with me. First Steve, then Stone.”
Frankie raised bleak eyes before rubbing a hand over his face. Sitting up taller, he straightened the perfectly starched cuffs of his shirt. “I’m over that now. I’ve got a sweet little sexy ride called Preston.” He pointed a finger at me. “But that is strictly off the record.”
“No mention of Preston. Got it.” I perched forward on my seat, interested to see where Frankie was going with all this.
