The Worst Best Man(62)

“I don’t like this, Franchesca. Not one bit. It’s one thing to be friends with Pru, but dating a man who owns half of Manhattan?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating? Me? I never exaggerate!”

“She always exaggerates,” Rachel said, smiling sympathetically at him.

“Hey, Aide,” Gio said suddenly. “How you feel about the Knicks?”

“The Knicks? I think they have a shot at the semis if not the finals this year.” Aiden was grateful for the rope.

“Me and Marco have an extra ticket for the game Tuesday. You wanna go?”

Aiden tried to remember the last time someone invited him somewhere that wasn’t related to business. He couldn’t come up with anything.

The shouting from the kitchen reached a crescendo. “He’s a nice guy that I’m not marrying, Ma. Chill the hell out.”

“Don’t you swear at me, Franchesca Marie!”

“You’re the one acting like a crazy person in front of a really nice guy that I like a lot.”

“I’m not acting crazy! I’m making sure my daughter isn’t getting in over her head with a crowd that runs too fast! What if he wants you to go to Monaco or St. Barths? What if he gets you hooked on drugs? All the celebrities need rehab, you know.”

“Jesus, I’m not thirteen, Ma! And Aiden isn’t hooking me on drugs.”

“I don’t want you losing your focus on your degree for a handsome face with deep pockets.”

“Mother! All you’ve talked about since I was twenty-two was me getting married.”

“I meant to a nice guy from Brooklyn who could offer you a family and a nice home within a three-block radius of our house. Not some kajillionaire who would treat you like some trophy.”

“Oh, I’m not a trophy?” Frankie demanded at full volume.

“I thought you said you weren’t marrying him?” May demanded.

“You know how I operate! You say no, and that’s what I want to do!”

“Tuesday would be great,” Aiden said.

“Awesome,” Marco nodded.

“Meet at the Garden?” Gio suggested.

“Works for me,” Marco nodded.

“Me, too.”

“Who’s gonna sneak in there and get another round of beers?” Hugo wondered.

“Oh, my God. I’ll do it,” Rachel said, pushing back from the table.

“Be careful in there, babe,” Marco warned her, no longer as concerned with the welfare of their unborn baby since beer was on the line.

Rachel headed down the hallway supporting her belly.

“Everyone can hear every word you both are saying,” she announced.

“No, they can’t,” both Baranski women announced.

“Yes, we can,” the Baranski men insisted from the dining room.

“See what you did, Ma?”

“Me? You’re the one who brings a trillionaire to lunch!”

“We can still hear you,” Gio yelled.

“No, you can’t,” May insisted.

But the yelling ceased, and after a few stage whispers from down the hall, Frankie, Rachel, and May reappeared. Frankie and May had topped off their wineglasses.

Rachel was juggling four beers that she doled out at the table.

Aiden guzzled the last of his beer and reached for the fresh one. “This roast is delicious,” he announced.

Marco snorted and choked.

“We’re so happy to have you here to enjoy it,” May said, smiling sweetly.

Frankie flipped her brother the bird.

Marco flipped it back but not before his mother caught him. May got out of her chair and walked casually behind her son, and just when his shoulders seemed to relax, she cuffed him on the back of the head.

“Manners!”

“Frankie started it,” Marco argued.

Frankie flipped him another bird.

“See, Ma? Look!”

Frankie picked up her fork and ate innocently. “Marco, you’re hallucinating.”

May slapped Gio on the back of the head on her way back to her chair.

“What was that for?” he demanded.

“I saw your finger twitch,” she pointed out. “It was a preemptive strike.”

May sat down primly. Frankie and her brothers watched carefully, and the second the woman’s attention was on her plate, three middle fingers shot up around the table.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. When did you all turn into assholes?” Hugo sighed over his plate.

“What? What did they do?” May demanded.

“Nothing,” the three Baranski siblings announced.

“You sure you want to deal with this?” Rachel asked Aiden from across the table. “There’s still time to get out.”

Aiden turned his laugh into a discreet cough.

“Don’t try to scare off the trillionaire. He’s Frankie’s last shot at non-test tube babies,” Marco joked.

Aiden shot Marco the finger, and the table erupted in laughter. Except for May. She very calmly got out of her seat and smacked him upside the head.

“Ma!” Franchesca was horrified.

“I don’t care if Aiden is a trillionaire. No one flips the bird at my dinner table!”