"You want to get ice cream?" I asked, running my finger over the tough fabric of the white chairs. It somehow managed to be soft and firm at the same time. Obviously expensive. Not that I’d expect anything less in the fancy place.

Frankie stared at me a little too long, as if he read my mind and realized I was having a moment with the chair. Or maybe he tried to figure out if he had to keep repeating himself because I was stupid.

"Yeah," he finally ...