“Affirmative,” she answered. “Dom…in…fuckin’…o.”

Oh God. I couldn’t even begin to enumerate how many ways mean kids could make fun of that name.

What were they thinking?

Cat cut into my thoughts. “You want more?”

What I wanted was to know why Chrissy hadn’t called me to share the good news, and more importantly, why she hadn’t consulted with me on names.

I didn’t get the chance to tell Cat that.

Cat kept talking.

“Ma’s latest dude dumped her and she’s out fifteen thousand dollars because she bought the dress and can’t get any of her deposits back on all the other shit.”

My mouth dropped open, and for a few seconds, I didn’t say a word. This was because I couldn’t believe it. None of Ma’s other men bailed on her pre-wedding. Post, yes. Pre, never.

I got myself together enough to ask, “He dumped her?”

“Apparently, she didn’t share there were four before him and he wasn’t feelin’ the love for the writing he saw on that particular wall.”

“Oh God,” I whispered.

“She’s freaked,” Cat continued. “Told Nat he was the love of her life and that she can’t be around him, so she’s movin’ back to Chicago. Nat told Enzo, who’s currently holed up in a bunker somewhere to escape all the crazy bitches in his life, but now also to escape Ma. He told me about Ma. And we all know this translates to the fact she’s fucked up money-wise, and needs to mooch off someone seein’ as she was livin’ with the guy with him footin’ the bill.”

Suddenly, I was wondering if Benny would move to Indianapolis, at least temporarily.

“Needless to say, I’m not takin’ her calls,” Cat carried on.

“Probably a good idea for a while,” I muttered, meaning for about eight months.

“She could change plans and head to Indy, so this is your friendly, sisterly heads up to avoid that shit at all costs.”

“She can’t stay here because I’m not gonna be here in a few months,” I told her.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m moving back to Chicago, shackin’ up with Benny.”

This brought silence that I thought I could read.

Therefore, I decided to tackle that later and start at the beginning.

“And Cat, Chrissy is not a bitch. She’s really nice. I think she loves Dad and I know she’s excited about that baby. So, she named her a weird name. We’ll call her Minnie or somethin’.”

Cat didn’t reply.

“But I’m with you on Ma,” I went on. “You have to focus on makin’ a baby with Art that I hope you won’t name Solitaire, and I’ll back that play with Ma if she calls. And Ben will not ever in this lifetime let her live in his house. He’s not Ma’s or Dad’s biggest fan so, luckily, I can throw him under that bus and he won’t give a shit if I do. He takes my back on everything, but tellin’ Ninette to move on along, I think he’ll actually enjoy. Nat takes her on, that’s her gig.”

Cat said nothing.

I ignored what I was sure that meant and kept babbling.

“This is what we’ve got to work with: a growing family of craziness that’s annoying half the time, whacked all the time, but under that, we love each other. I never really got that until recently. I know we could have had it better. We could have all made better decisions. But I think everyone on this planet can probably say the same thing. We have what we have, and if we accept it no matter how insane it can get, set boundaries to how much we can deal with, and remember that in that mix there’s a whole lot of love, we’ll be okay.”

Cat didn’t reply.

So I called, “Cat?”

“He takes your back on everything?” she asked, and I smiled at my steering wheel.

“Yeah. He’s awesome like that.”

And a lot of other ways besides.

I stopped smiling and started to feel different kinds of warm fuzzies when Cat’s voice came at me again.

Actually, it wasn’t just what she said. It was the way she sounded when she said it.

“You’ve been swingin’ in the breeze, Frankie, for so long, it is not funny,” she said quietly, but her voice was trembling. “Even with Vinnie, he let you swing in the breeze. They all thought you were behind his shit, but he let them think that. He should have stepped up on that, got that straight, not let you carry his burden. He didn’t. That pissed me off. Then he dealt the ultimate, leavin’-you-swingin’ ’cause he got whacked.” She paused and I held my breath. “I’m glad you finally got someone who isn’t gonna let you swing in the breeze.”

This was not what I expected her to say.

Not even close.

It was a whole lot better.

And it reminded me of why I loved my sister and why it was always worth the crazy.

“Thanks, Cat.”

“You’re welcome, darlin’. And, just to say, my boundaries are gonna be a whole lot less flexible than yours are gonna be.”

“I get that.”

“And sayin’ that, I’m okay with it, because I’m thinkin’ that yours are gonna be flexible but Ben’s are not.”

She was not wrong.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

I heard her take in an audible breath before she asked, “Chrissy isn’t a bitch?”

“Nope.”

“She seemed pretty much not there the couple times I met her,” Cat noted.

“The couple times you met her, she was around one or all of us, and when that happens, no one is there but us and our big mouths.”

“I see your point,” she muttered.

“She’s nice,” I reiterated.

“You like her?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve chatted occasionally. It isn’t like I’ve written her in my will, but she’s pretty cool.”

“They all are.”

She was not wrong about that either.

“Well, this one has our sister so I figure she’ll be around for a lifetime, one way or another,” I pointed out.

“Even if she’s nice, this does not make me want to jump for joy, ’cause Enzo Senior is gonna fuck that shit up and we both know it.”

“A baby sister, Cat,” I reminded her of what would come out of that particular craziness for her and for me, at the same time mentally hoping I could get Chrissy to text me photos. I was also thinking it was time to mend fences with Dad. And lastly, I was wondering how I’d talk Benny into not losing his mind if I did that.

“Whacked and annoying, but we love each other,” Cat said. “We’re totally messed up.”

“I’m thinkin’ so is everyone else. They just deal with it better or cut each other a lot more slack.”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“Now go home, get laid, make me a niece or nephew, and call me in a month with good news.”

“I’ll ask Art how he feels about the name Solitaire,” she joked as I turned the ignition.

“You do, I’ll still love her…and you,” I did not joke.

“You’re a pushover,” she stated, but her voice was softer and kind of husky.

“Whatever,” I replied.

“And a dork,” she went on, not sounding soft or husky.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“And if you think I’m gettin’ mushy, just to say, that’s another boundary I won’t cross.”

“I’ve already hung up,” I lied.

Her voice was smiling when she said, “Later, Frankie.”

“Later, Cat.”

I ended the call, tossed my phone to the seat beside me, and looked through the windshield.

Tandy, Sandy, Jennie, Miranda, and the IT guy were gone. So was the CR-V.

I put my car in gear while hoping that was Tandy, away from prying eyes, telling everyone to stop doing shit that could get them fired and start being cool, even as I had a feeling Tandy was doing the exact opposite.

Then I reversed out of my spot to go to Arby’s, get home, and start searching want ads.

***

“I’m givin’ up,” Cheryl decreed, leaning into the bar toward me.

I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I’d given up too.

On want ads.

I had also given up on waiting around my house alone the hours it would take for me to go to sleep, wake up when Benny got off work so I could phone him, and listen to him saying words that would give me an orgasm.

So I’d changed into jeans and a blousy, drapey, yet still clingy tee, strapped on fabulous spike-heeled sandals, fluffed out my hair, and took myself out to J&J’s Saloon, the local bar, a bar owned by Feb.

Feb was working. As was Cheryl.

This was good since I knew no one in Brownsburg but Vi, Cal, Kate, Keira, Angie, Colt, Feb, and Cheryl, plus a few more friends of Vi’s (who were also friends of Feb and Cheryl) that I had met at the wedding and bonded with over Bellinis. They were all married, most of them with kids, so we had yet to do what we promised to do at the wedding: hook up for a girls’ night out. So I didn’t count them. And Angie didn’t count either because she couldn’t yet cogitate. And since Vi and Cal were still in Virgin Gorda, and Kate and Keira were not of age to go to a bar (and they were still in Chicago), this left me fortunate that Cheryl and Feb were both working that night so I didn’t end up looking like a stylishly dressed barfly.

Once I got there, I wished I hadn’t left it until that late in my sojourn in Brownsburg to go.

Granted, I was more the subdued lighting, fabulous décor, every-drink-served-in-a-martini-glass type of establishment kind of girl, and this was not that. It was mostly made out of wood, rough and worn with age, and undoubtedly had more than its fair share of bar fights. There were pool tables in the back, and pool tables usually heralded a joint that was not my scene.

I still liked it.

Maybe it was because I walked in, Cheryl and Feb looked my way, and both of them called out greetings, Feb’s being, “Hey, babe! Cool you finally showed,” and Cheryl’s being, “Yo, Frankie, how’s tricks?” and that felt good.