Chapter 269: Gretchen's Call
Frank's decision to hand Debbie over to Karen had surprisingly effective results.
Whatever "magic" Karen worked on her, Debbie became obsessed—visiting her daily, asking Frank for a yoga mat, and drinking milk religiously to "start doing yoga."
She even started practicing strange poses and reading even stranger books—ladylike etiquette and all that nonsense—clearly Karen's influence.
"Karen said that as long as I drink enough milk, I'll develop an even hotter body than Holly," Debbie declared, gulping down her milk.
Holly was a classmate of Debbie's, and physically way more mature—curvy and confident—unlike petite, childlike Debbie.
Holly was the "it girl" of their age group, the type who'd be a cheer captain. Unsurprisingly, Debbie's crush, Little Hank, had his eyes set on her.
Knock knock.
Frank opened the door to find a boy around eleven or twelve wearing glasses and a plaid shirt—a classic nerd.
"Hello, sir. I'm Simon. I'm here to see Debbie. Is she home?" the boy asked nervously.
"Hi, Simon!" Debbie came running over—wearing light makeup, Frank noticed.
"You look really pretty today, Debbie," Simon said, clearly dazzled.
"Thanks! Dad, we're going out," she replied smoothly, waving Frank off as she left with the boy.
Karen had laid out a full plan for Debbie. Since Little Hank didn't like her, Debbie had grown insecure—wearing Fiona's clothes and makeup in an effort to appear more "sexy."
Karen was teaching her how to do makeup, proper etiquette, and had her spend more time with Simon—a nerdy boy who had a clear crush on Debbie. Debbie didn't like him back—he was too boring and bookish. Like Fiona, she preferred the cool, edgy bad-boy types.
But Karen insisted on this interaction.
Karen's philosophy: "Never disappoint a boy who likes you, even if you don't like him back."
Frank, watching all this, couldn't help but worry. With Karen's training, would Debbie grow up to be a heartbreaker—or worse?
"Dad, I want a rifle," Carl announced, flipping through a gun magazine.
"A rifle? You look like a rifle," Frank snorted.
"But Little Hank has one," Carl muttered.
"Stop hanging out with that kid, he's a bad influence. That's why Debbie's acting like this too," Frank scolded.
"Now go study. If you get held back again and stay in third grade, I'm taking away all your toys. No more Ninja Spitballs either!"
Yes, Frank treated boys and girls very differently—blatantly favoring the girls.
Ring ring! Frank's phone buzzed.
Gretchen? He blinked, surprised.
After their wild night at the party, they hadn't spoken—Gretchen had been busy running her billion-dollar tech company.
"I'm in Chicago," she said once he answered.
After a few pleasantries, she gave him a hotel room number. The meaning was obvious.
"Sorry, I have something going on at home," Frank refused.
Though every bone in his body wanted to go, he wasn't really "Frank." He was conscious of how much he was assimilating into the character—and fought against it.
Gretchen was caught completely off guard. She asked questions, but Frank dodged them all and politely ended the call.
Knock knock knock. As night fell and the kids bustled around getting dinner ready, the door rang again.
Fiona opened it and saw a familiar face.
"Is this Frank Gallagher's house? Is Frank home?" Gretchen asked.
"Dad! Someone's here for you!" Fiona shouted.
Frank stepped out of the kitchen—and froze.
He hadn't expected Gretchen to actually come to his house after he turned her down.
"Not going to welcome an old friend?" Gretchen smiled.
"Of course! We're just making dinner," Frank said, inviting her in.
"Who's she? Our new stepmom?" Sammy whispered.
"Don't talk nonsense. She's an old classmate," Frank waved it off.
"All these are your kids?" Gretchen was stunned as she looked around—especially at little Liam.
She knew Frank had a lot of kids from Elliot's party, but seeing it up close was a different story. She was in her forties and didn't have any children of her own.
After dinner, Gretchen stayed a while longer to chat.
The kids, sensing something, all went upstairs. Even Carl and Chucky—who were about to play console games—got dragged up by Sammy.
Sammy winked at Frank and gave him a thumbs-up, making Frank laugh awkwardly.
Unlike the others, Sammy was in her thirties and worldly enough to recognize Gretchen's subtle wealth—her plain-looking clothes and bag were all custom designer.
She didn't know who Gretchen was, but she could tell she was loaded. And based on how she acted during dinner, it was clear she had eyes for Frank.
Sammy was determined to give Frank a chance to seal the deal.
"Ahem, it's getting late…" Frank said, trying to nudge Gretchen out. Her subtle advances were clearly getting to him.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Gretchen asked.
"Do you know how often I've thought about you these past weeks?"
Her husband Elliott was useless in bed, and she'd been celibate for years. Frank had awakened something in her at the party. If not for work emergencies, she would've stayed with him the whole time.
"I—" Frank began, but Gretchen cut him off, pushing him onto the couch and kissing him.
At that point, what else was there to say?
Frank picked her up and flipped her over—things quickly spiraled into a steamy mess.