“What about the, ‘I’m descended from the kings of Spain, and in my country, we don’t do things that way?’”
Franco gave me a perturbed look. “Be nice to me, Michael. Can’t you see I’m suffering?”
I patted his hand in sympathy. “Have you tried calling him?”
“Yes, but he refuses to see me. I should try Venmo. At least then I’ll get a receipt. Anyway, enough about my problems. What is it you need?”
I wasn’t surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. Franco didn’t like to dwell on his own failings.
“I was hoping we could revisit you taking a look at Arden’s finances. He wouldn’t want me involved, but he’s said himself he’s not good with money.”
“Are you trying to break up the family?”
“What do you mean?”
“Arden has a relationship with a man, one that sounds beneficial for both sides, and you want to get between them. How do you know it’s just sex?”
I stammered. “I guess I don’t. It just seems that… well… if Arden wasn’t obligated to him…”
“Then you could have him all to yourself?”
Franco had a way of cutting through the bullshit.
“Look, I don’t want to be involved in Arden’s financial decisions. And if he wants to continue his relationship with this man, I won’t stop him, but I’d like for it to be on his terms. Arden has this… ” I didn’t know how to describe it. “When he’s working a job, he becomes this whole other person, and I’m not sure he likes it.”
“Maybe he does like it. You of all people know how satisfying it is to slip into another character.”
“Franco, fuck, would you just help me out here? As a friend?”
Franco chuckled. He loved to rile me up. “I said it already, I’d be happy to meet with him. You can give him my card.”
“That’s not enough. I’ve offered before, and he hasn’t taken me up on it. Maybe if I can get you two together.”
“And I give him my pitch?”
“Yes, and I’d prefer you offer to do it for free. Just send your invoices to me. Or, if it’s a commission thing, take it out of our arrangement.”
“He’d be upset to know you’re doing this,” Franco said.
“Probably, but it’s worth the risk.”
Franco considered it. His time and expertise were valuable, but he rarely turned me down.
“All right,” he said at last. “How do you want to do this? Should I drop by when you two are in the middle of fucking?”
I shook my head at his stupid fantasy. “How about Sunday brunch? I’ll mention it to Arden. Tell him you broke up with your boyfriend, and you’re feeling lonely.”
“Should I act heartbroken?” Franco asked with a clownish sad face.
“Don’t be an ass. I’ve seen you make up worse stories when talking to investors.”
“I don’t lie to my friends, Michael,” he said as if that’s what I was suggesting.
“Because you’re such an honest man,” I said. He gave me a hurt look. The thing with being friends with ex-lovers was that you knew all the ways in which to wound them, in small ways and in big ones. But Franco, being the generous man that he was, let my dig go unanswered.
“Brunch on Sunday,” he said. “I’ll bring the champagne, since I know you’re on a budget. But if this plan of yours goes tits-out, don’t blame me.”
“Tits-up,” I corrected.
