Chapter Text
Money talked.
It was one of the most obvious facts of life. Wealth spoke volumes and enforced a person’s desires. All it took was a flippant wave of a hand filled with dough to settle matters. It was how Kitty’s father usually settled his affairs in multiple meanings of the word. He was an esteemed attorney, after all, and there weren’t many defendants who could withstand his consistent legal onslaught without dipping into their life savings or bowing their heads.
But as she grew up, Kitty thought it was a pretty pathetic power play. Her father was glib, but it wasn’t substantial. Kitty saw firsthand how the money trail ran dry. A series of unfortunate financial and legal decisions created a fork in the road, and while her father slithered down, Kitty sauntered along the high path. She was already armed with the knowledge accrued from a childhood curated by phony dynamics and influence, which all amounted to a less than a penny.
She wouldn’t have said it was entirely for nothing. Wealth coincided with power as a fact of life. It was probably the most important lesson passed down to her by her father. She had long ceased speaking with him, but now and again, hints of his incentive impact lingered in her daily life.
From behind, Kitty slumped and wreathed her arms around Franke’s neck. She sank against the back of the chaise lounge, lifting one leg over the upholstery to slowly drape herself along the backing. She rolled into Franke, sinking into her familiar softness and catching the scent of tangerines from her neck. In the quiet comforts of their living room, Kitty peered at Franke through her sharp, dark lashes, her teal lips pulled in a welcoming grin.
Franke’s arms were held above her head. An older paperwork was pinched between her larger hands. She didn’t regard it, however, as she said, “Y’know, I was reading.”
A quick glance at the cover affirmed it was a romance novel. Beautiful women drawn in rich oils and silk embraced each other upon an earthy cliffside. Their gazes locked. The sky was the same pretty hue as the color upon Franke’s cheeks. As Franke tossed it onto the coffee table, Kitty recognized it from a bookshelf in Phoebe’s office. She often insisted romance novels served as psychological research by diagnosing the characters in their grand, dramatic escapades, but Kitty very much knew better.
“Why settle for that when you have the real thing?” Kitty countered, and she toyed with a loose curl of Franke’s hair near her cheek. “Besides, I have a very important question for you, baby, and it can’t wait another second. That time of year has crept up on us, and you know I hate last minute shopping. Sure, I can have anything ordered here in a flash, but I don’t have an answer.”
Franke stared, the deep plum of her irises Kitty’s favorite color. When the silence continued, she sighed, and poked a manicured nail into her chin.
“What do you want for the holidays?”
She blinked, then uttered a low thrum of understanding. Her brows furrowed as she leered at the high ceiling. The chandelier twinkled, though not as much as Franke’s eyes when she concentrated. She tilted her head, and the silence would have stretched, if Kitty didn’t lay her head on Franke’s chest. Her steady heartbeat pulsed into her ear, a lovely sound that coaxed relaxation on many sleepless nights.
But two blunt words dashed Kitty’s calm.
“I dunno.”
She pulled up and sat on her knees, Franke frowning. She was probably mourning the lack of her girlfriend resting upon her, but Kitty knew in good time she would return. She just needed a little clarification, a promise she told only to herself.
“Come on, Franke, there has to be something you want,” Kitty remarked, and she extended a finger for every suggestion. “New shoes with support for your ankles? New ink? A luxurious romp anywhere? Or maybe-” She chuckled and telekinetically lifted the book, Franke’s cheeks warming to a soft scarlet as Kitty glanced at the page. “-a better novel? Borrowing from Phoebe’s bargain bin is fine, but I bet this story ends up nice and neat in a pretty bow because everyone hashes it out, just how she likes it.”
Franke snickered and pinched the spine. She flipped through it, several of the pages dog-eared, exactly as Phoebe disliked. She preferred a bookmark, and poor Franke would certainly hear an earful for the various nicks.
She shifted her back off the armrest. The book dropped in her lap, discarded from her attention. The same slow, sweet smile Kitty adored for many years spread on her handsome face.
“Why would I want anything when I have you?”
The composure in Kitty’s expression slipped. Her own softness emerged, a countenance solely for Franke. As her shoulders lowered, the rest of her body followed. Kitty slipped into Franke, feeling like they could have melted into one being. She embraced around her waist and rested her cheek to her chest, her heartbeat as sonorous as ever. With Franke’s sturdy fingers brushing through her hair, she permitted herself to sigh.
Kitty guessed she was a bit of a fool, one who sometimes leaned on old expectations. Asking Franke, of all people, Franke, what she wanted as a gift was plainly moronic. The answer was as clear as the sky in the novel.
“What do you want for the holidays?” Franke wondered, and Kitty heard the fluttering pages. “New heels with a super sharp point? That luxury romp around wherever the hell?”
“I’ll get back to you on that,” she said, and she twisted onto her back, lacing her fingers across her stomach. “If you want to get me an early gift, though, read to me. I wanna hear what Dr. Love counts as good romance.”
“Oh, you’re gonna love it. It’s cheesier than cheddar!”
Her eager, cheerful tone was more valuable than diamonds and gold.