Page 43 of The Worst Best Man

She hung up and buried her face in her hands. “Oh, my god. If I can’t pull this off I’ve ruined not only her wedding day but our friendship.”

“It’ll work out,” Antonio said cheerfully.

“Is that a school uniform?” Frankie asked, eyeing the loafers working the gas pedal.

“Yep. You got me out of a geography test.”

“You’re skipping school to drive me around?”

“Sure! I do it sometimes. It beats sitting behind a desk and listening to teachers blah blah blah all day.”

Frankie tried not to think about all the laws they were probably breaking at this exact moment. Her phone rang again, and she picked it up without thinking.

“Franchesca! You’re alive! I’ve been so worried.”

“Mom?”

“Oh, thank god you remember me,” May said, laying on the sarcasm. “I thought you went paragliding and hit your head and got amnesia.”

“Ma. Now’s not a good time.”

“What could possibly be more important than reassuring your mother that you’re alive and well?” May insisted.

“Ma, it’s Pru’s wedding day, and I’m running an errand for her. I really have to focus, okay?”

“Pruitt’s parents must be over-the-moon excited.” Reality didn’t exist in May Baranski’s world. She’d met R.L. and Addison Stockton on dozens of occasions. The Stocktons weren’t an overly excitable bunch. “You know, I’d love ifmydaughter had a wedding day someday,” May sighed.

“Yeah, yeah. Poor you. No grandbabies except for the one on the way from Marco and Rachel. I’ll get knocked up next time I go out with a guy on Tinder. I promise.”

“Franchesca Marie, you wouldn’t dare—”

“I gotta go, Ma. I’ll call you.”

“When? You’ve been gone for so long already!”

“Soon.” Probably. “I gotta go. Bye!”

She hung up before her mother could deliver yet another guilt trip with the precision of a surgeon.

Antonio snickered. “Your mom sounds like fun.”

“Shut up, underage felon, and drive.”

She had Antonio get as close to the gate as possible. She couldn’t waste time crawling through jungle this time. After three embarrassing attempts, she finally made it over the wall scraping the shins of both legs on the sharp stone of the wall.

She grunted and groaned her way out of the flowering bush with the sound effects of an elderly person.At least her hair helmet hadn’t moved.

Now, to stealthily—shit!

Three maids were catching a smoke break at the back of the building closest to her. They were all watching her warily.

Frankie brushed the dirt and leaves off her of dress and strolled toward them casual as can be.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted them smiling like a normal person. “So, here’s the thing…”

Chapter Eighteen

Frankie tied the apron around her waist. “Thank you again for this, Flor,” she said to the woman she’d swapped clothes with. The bust was a little tight and the shoes were a little big, but other than that, Frankie was confident she could pass for a resort maid. At least temporarily.