by Casey, L. A.
“Only stupid people take that squit. I didn’t think you were stupid. Or at least not that stupid.”
“Frank, why are you going off on me only now about what I’ve done with drugs?”
“Because I’m mad at you and I might as well get everything that pisses me off about you off my chest!”
“Okay,” I rubbed my hand over my mouth. “I get it. I’ll be quiet while you rail on me.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “I can’t think of anything else.”
When I laughed, she shoved me again, but this time there was no anger behind it.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated and lifted my hand to my necklace. “I swear I am. That record . . . we don’t play that shit on stage anymore and I cringe if I hear it on the radio. I pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I nodded. “I wish I never wrote it, never sang it . . . I never will again. I promise you.”
Frankie exhaled. “And your drink and drug problem? I’ve never brought it up because I didn’t want to upset you, but I’m so mad right now that I don’t care. I won’t have you in my life if you take that poison again. I swear, Risk.”
“I’ve been sober from both for six months, remember? I’ve got my coin to prove it.”
She stared at my coin then flicked her gaze to mine.
“Stay sober and I’ll be impressed.”
“I’m working on it every day, Frank.”
She nodded, satisfied with my answer.
“You didn’t mean what you said right?”
“What’d I say?”
“About me getting out of your life.”
She sighed, long and deep. “No, I didn’t, I’m just really mad at you.”
“Then take it back,” I prompted. “Tell me you want me in your life.”
I needed to hear those words to feel like I could breathe.
“I take it back,” she frowned. “I didn’t mean it. Of course I want you in my life, you big dope.”
I relaxed. She reached out with her right hand to lean on the counter-top, but instantly she hissed and brought her hand up to her face and thoroughly inspected her palm. Her bloody palm.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
“I cut myself.”
She said it as casually as wishing me a good morning.
Frankie turned and walked over to the other side of the kitchen and retrieved the first aid kit from its spot on the wall. It was clearly difficult for her to unzip it with one hand but she didn’t have to worry about it for much longer because I moved behind her, plucked the kit from her hands without a word, barely a second later. With a grumble, she turned to face me and sighed. She knew she wasn’t going to win this battle with me so she didn’t even bother to start arguing.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw she cradled her injured hand against her chest while I removed the items I would need and placed them on the counter. Silently, I held out my hand and when she didn’t give me hers, I rolled my eyes. I turned my head, looked at her and waited. Slowly, Frankie moved her trembling, injured hand towards mine and when my fingers skimmed over the back of her hand, she shuddered. I gripped her wrist and turned her hand over so I could see her palm.
“Just put a gauze and bandage on it. It’s only a little cut, it’ll stop bleeding soon.”
I didn’t look up at her as I said, “There’s dirt in it.”
It wasn’t a deep cut but it was wide and just over an inch long. I knew it was hurting her and I wanted to do nothing more than quickly bandage it so it could begin to heal, but I had to clean it first.
“I could just run it under the tap,” she hurriedly suggested. “That would clean any dirt away.”
She was scared, which didn’t surprise me; she never did have a high threshold for pain.
“Or you could be a big girl and let me clean your hand correctly so you don’t get an infection and have to get your hand amputated down the line because you were too chicken to let me do what needs to be done.”
She squeaked. “You’re such a little prat, I hope you know that.”
I made a point not to smile.
“Can I please clean your hand?”
“Oh, go on then! And be quick about it!”
I grabbed a small, sterile bottle of water. I twisted off the cap and poured it onto her hand. Frankie didn’t make a sound. The water just washed away some surface dirt. It was the alcohol wipes that I knew she was worried about. I was worried about them too; I was sober and I hadn’t been around alcohol of any kind since my stint in rehab. I was worried that the strong smell of the wipe would tempt me but I figured I needed to be tested because I couldn’t go through my life hiding from drink. Like a hawk, Frankie watched as I ripped one of the packets open and removed the tiny, white antiseptic sheet. The smell was strong but I was relieved to find it didn’t give me the urge to find the nearest bottle and down it. I focused on Frankie. I didn’t give her a moment to prepare for the pain, I simply shook the sheet out and pressed it against her cut and rubbed away any visible embedded dirt.
Frankie’s whole body jerked and I had to hold onto her tightly to keep her from going anywhere.
“Bastard!” she shouted. “Son of bloody whore!”
“My mum probably was a whore,” I mused. “So you’re not far off.”
I angled my hips away because I wouldn’t have put it past Frankie to whack me in the bollocks. She didn’t move though. She remained still as a statue and because of her compliance, I hurried through cleaning away any remaining dirt in her cut. A couple of minutes later, and I was done. I raised Frankie’s small hand to my face and gently blew on her cut which made her release a sound very similar to a sigh. I didn’t look at her as I opened a package of gauzes and pressed one against her palm and sealed it in place by wrapping a small bandage around her hand before I grabbed a safety pin from the first aid kit and clipped the bandage in place.
“Thank you.”
The sincerity in her tone told me her anger had cooled off dramatically in the last few minutes. I nodded, then gathered the empty plastic packets I’d used and put them into the bin next to me. I knew Frankie expected me to leave but there was no way in hell that that was happening. There was something going on at Mary Well’s. Joe was speaking to the police, Deena too, the place was empty of customers and Frankie had somehow cut her hand. She said she ‘handled it’ and I wanted to know what the fuck ‘it’ was.
“You need to leave.” She looked anywhere but at me. “Staff only.”
“How’d you hurt your hand?”
“For God’s sake.” She huffed. “You’re a persistent little shit.”
“That’s twice you’ve called me little.”
“Does that hurt your little boy feelings?”
She was trying to be mean and engage me in an argument to distract me from what I wanted to know and it wasn’t working.
“You’re the one with the nickname ‘little’, Pippin. Not me.”
“Don’t come for my height today, Groot,” she warned. “I’m not in the mood.”
I moved closer to her, enjoying the widening of her eyes and the seductive little O that her rose-red lips made.
“Then tell me what happened to your hand,” I pressed. “You said you ‘handled it’. Tell me what ‘it’ was. Does it have something to do with the police being here?”
Frankie’s sigh told me she was going to answer me, she always had little tells I copped before she actually did, or said, something. She was the easiest person in the world for me to read, she always had been.
“Joe wants you and the rest of the band to be able to come in and enjoy your food without fans asking for pictures or autographs or anything like that. He put it up on Mary Well’s social media that while you guys are at his diner, you are not to be hassled. There’s a sign on the front door too.”
I must have missed that. “He did?” I tilted my head and smiled. “That’s kind of him. I appreciate that and I know the lad
s will too.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone is so inclined to listen to Joe,” she grumbled. “A man walked in through the back about forty minutes ago. He offered me one hundred pounds to let him get close enough to sneak some pictures of you eating in here without you and the others knowing. I said no and told him to get out. He tried to offer me more money so I grabbed the mop and warned him to leave. He got super annoyed at me, grabbed the mop and pulled on it. I lost my balance and fell. I banged my knee and cut my hand when I fell.”
I wasn’t a temperamental person; despite what a lot of people thought about me, I wasn’t one who was quick to anger. However, listening to what Frankie had just told me made me question myself because rage was quick to flow through my veins at the thought of someone harming my girl. A voice in the back of my head reminded me that she wasn’t my girl and I wanted to scream at it to shut up, but I put all of my focus on Frankie instead.
She must have seen the anger in my eyes because she put her hands on my forearms.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she assured me. “Joe came in and threw the man out by the scruff of his neck and Anna called the police. I doubt he’ll try anything like that in here again.”
How naive she was irritated me.
“Are you serious right now?” I demanded. “You doubt he’ll try anything like that again . . . ? You don’t know the man or what he will and won’t do, Frankie.”
Frankie frowned. “The police were called.”
“That doesn’t mean shit to paps,” I stated. “D’you know how many warnings they get for doing shit like this to people connected to celebrities. Some of them even get arrested but they don’t care once they get a good picture or piece of footage.”
She didn’t respond.
“Listen to me.” My voice was firm. “Never get in the way of these people over me ever again. D’you understand me? The paps are vultures, just one good picture of me, or the guys, doing something they think is wrong is enough for them keep the lights on in their houses for a couple of months. People will do anything for money and me and the guys bring them money.”
She scoffed with frustration.
“So I’m supposed to let strangers who want to exploit you for money just waltz in here like they own the place?”
“Just turn a blind eye to them; everyone else does.”
“I’m not everyone else, Risk! I won’t let someone do that shit to you if I can help it.”
I couldn’t believe it when her voice cracked, and neither could she, telling by the wide-eyed expression that washed over her beautiful face. She hurriedly turned her back to me and headed straight for the back door of the kitchen, but she barely made it two steps before my hands touched her shoulders and turned her back around. My gut clenched when a tear fell from her eye and trickled down her cheek.
“Why’re you crying?”
She reached up and swiped away the lone tear immediately.
“I’m not.”
I stared down at her, blankly.
“Fine, I am,” she looked down at her feet. “I just hate that you can’t even eat a meal in peace without someone bothering you. All those strangers want something from you, you giving them songs should be enough. I don’t like it. If I can stop one of them from exploiting you then I will and I don’t want to hear a word about it from you either!”
She tried to move past me, but I blocked her from doing so.
“What?” she hissed. “If you’re gonna shout at me, just do it. I’m not gonna change my mind and there’s nothing you can—”
I had enough of her running her mouth so I shut her up with a kiss.
A kiss that to anyone else would have looked chaste and innocent, but to me made my body weak and my head spin. My heart was just about to burst when Frankie parted her soft lips and her warm, wet tongue tangled with mine. I never knew someone could taste so familiar, but Frankie did. She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my body flush against hers. Like when we kissed on the pier, Frankie’s mouth devoured mine in a heated frenzy. I wanted to kiss her all over, to touch her, to strip her naked and feel the heat of her tight cunt wrapped around my cock as I sunk inside her. A little taste of her wasn’t enough. I had been craving her taste, her touch, her very presence for far too long.
It was a fine line I walked, nothing about our situation had changed, but I wanted her more than my next breath.
“Shit, sorry!”
Frankie jumped away from me like I was an open flame.
We both looked towards the door of the kitchen that was flapping shut. The voice of the person belonged to May so I wasn’t bothered, but Frankie was red-faced at being caught kissing me. I got back in her space, lifted my hands to her cheeks and ran my fingertips over her hot, flushed skin. I noticed the bruising around her eye was starting to change colour. The darkness was fading to a yellow, green colour. It was healing.
“You’re so beautiful.” I smiled. “I love when you’re embarrassed, your face glows like Rudolph’s nose. You really are my little cherry.”
Frankie sucked in a strangled breath as she pressed forward and hid her face against my chest, making me laugh.
“Only you could go from spitting mad to embarrassed in space of a few minutes.” I chuckled. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Her arms came around my waist and she held me tightly.
“You came by for breakfast, right?”
“Yeah.” I said. “I wanted to see you too.”
Frankie stepped back, cheeks still glowing as she said, “Come on, let’s go get you settled and I’ll take your order.”
“May’ll be happy.” I grinned. “He’s starving.”
I followed her out of the kitchen. Joe, Anna and May were leaning against the service counter and when they saw us both, each of them relaxed.
“Thank God,” Joe said, placing a hand on his chest. “I’d thought you were gonna kill him.”
“Me too,” Anna bobbed her head. “I’ve never heard you curse or shout so much, Frankie. You’re pretty scary when you get going.”
“Like I said, gorgeous,” May said to Anna. “The littlest dogs always have the biggest fight in them.”
Frankie rolled her eyes, I chuckled.
“Let’s just put what happened behind us,” she said. “What did the police say?”
“They took our statements after you gave yours when they first arrived and I filed a report. I’ve given them access to our security cameras so they can extract the footage of the man attacking you.”
“He didn’t attack me,” Frankie stressed, glancing at me. “He just . . . pulled the mop and I fell.”
“That fucker was trying to intimidate you,” Joe stated. “He trespassed, and if they catch him I’m pressing charges.”
I was in full agreement with Joe but I knew from experience that the paps could get away with a whole lot worse than trespassing and intimidating someone. I didn’t tell that to Frankie though, she wanted to forget about it.
“Let’s just get on with our day. Look,” – she pointed at the doorway – “we have customers coming.”
It turned out the customers were a group of teenage Sinners who were wearing our band’s merchandise. Straight away, Joe told them not to hassle me or May and they listened. Since it was only a small group of five, May and I decided to get in some pictures with them and sign their T-shirts.
“Can you take our picture?” a kid asked Frankie. “Please.”
“Sure.” She took the phone happily, stepped back and said, “Say cheese.”
“Cheese.” Everyone echoed and smiled.
My smile was the biggest because as Frankie took the picture, I realised that she was smiling wide as well, like she was in the picture rather than taking it. It was so fucking cute.
“Risk.” She gave me a pointed look. “Look at the camera.”
“Sorry.” I grinned. “I’m looking now.”
She took a couple more pictures, then May and I sat in booth one and
Frankie took our order while Anna took care of the kids. I felt them staring at us, but a couple of glances showed they didn’t have their phones pointed our way which was a nice change. Frankie took down our orders; we each wanted a full English. She came back about ten minutes later with large plates of food. May put his phone down and I noticed he was scowling as Frankie placed our food in front of us.
“What is it?”
“I was on Twitter.”
Uh-oh.
“And some cocksucker said our music is basic. He actually said playing our songs are easy.” May grunted. “The fucking clown.”
Frankie snorted. “They are easy-peasy to play.”
I nearly broke my neck jerking my head so I could stare at Frankie, who flushed under my and May’s wide-eyed stares.
“You can play our songs on guitar?” I asked, feeling my balls tingle. “Think very carefully before you answer because I’m going to get a hard-on in public if you say yes.”
Frankie’s eyes darted down, but the table blocked her view of my groin, so she flicked her gaze back up to mine and shrugged her shoulders.
“I can play them on Guitar . . . God.”
When May and I shared a look we promptly burst into laughter, Frankie’s lips twitched as she folded her arms across her chest.
“Oh. So you two think that doesn’t count, huh?”
“Frankie girl,” May tittered, shaking his head. “Guitar God is a game.”
“I bet I could beat you on expert on any Blood Oath song on Guitar God,” she challenged. “I could play circles around you even with an injured hand, March.”
“Oh, mate,” I baited May. “I know you aren’t gonna let Samwise Gamgee call you out like this.”
The hobbit reference didn’t bother Frankie. I had called her Bilbo, Frodo, Samwise, Merry and Pippin for as long as I could remember. I was sure I had dubbed her with the names of the entire population of The Shire at some point in her life.
“You’re on, dwarf.” May narrowed his hooded eyes. “You’re gonna regret challenging me, Fulton. It’s on like fuckin’ Donkey Kong!”