Got A Hold On You (Ringside Romance)

by Pat White

  “Technically and every other way.” He searched the floor for his shoes. “It was a wild ride, though, wasn’t it?”

  He was glad his back was turned so she couldn’t read the pain in his eyes. He didn’t want to confuse her any more than she already was. He sensed she struggled to process their lovemaking and how it affected her well-planned, perfect life.

  Hell, someone should be able to live a perfect life with food plans, job security, and safe baby cribs.

  “Jack?”

  He grabbed his shoes and plopped down in a chair.

  “It was more than fun, wasn’t it?” she hushed.

  “It was great, fantastic, mind blowing. Glad I could oblige.”

  “Oblige?”

  He heard the hitch in her voice and wanted to kick himself, but he knew what had to be done.

  “Don’t feel guilty about it, kid.” He snapped his laces tight on his right shoe. “I took advantage, pure and simple. I knew what I was doing.” He tied his other shoe, sucked in a deep breath and ambled toward her.

  “But you…” He grazed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. She leaned into his touch and what was left of his heart exploded into a million pieces. “You’re just a sweet, naive kid, aren’t you?”

  She jerked away from him. Her lips thinned into a straight line and her left eye twitched. “Is that how I was last night? Naive?”

  “Not completely naive. You taught me a few things.”

  Like how to love, and when that kind of love means letting go.

  “I taught you something?”

  “Sure.” Glancing around the room, he searched for misplaced possessions. Nope. Didn’t see his heart anywhere. “You taught me to plan for my future. To set goals and stick to them.”

  “I did?” Her face lit up.

  This was it, his chance to close the door around his heart and lock it for good.

  “Sure. I’ve decided to take up painting again and travel a bit. Can’t wait to paint the Swiss Alps or the French countryside.”

  “What about a job? Financial security?” She sat straight, and he sensed the tension coursing through her body.

  “It’ll work out. Always does.” He continued his search of the floor, the sofa, and the dresser. He was stalling, letting her scent seep into his skin. He wanted to remember her scent forever.

  “You’re going to travel and paint?”

  He recognized the horror in her voice, the disbelief.

  “Yep. About time I did something for myself,” he said.

  “What about money?”

  “Got enough to last me for a while. After that, I’ll figure something out.” He tossed a pillow onto the couch and grabbed his crutches. “Take care, kid. See you at the office.”

  He pulled open the door and hobbled into the hallway. Only when he’d made it to the elevator did he pause long enough to take a breath. He punched the down button and wiped moisture from beneath his eyes. It was hot in here. The hotel air conditioning must be broken.

  Kinda like his heart.

  Clearing his throat, he glanced down the hall. His heart wasn’t just broken. It lay in pieces back in room 214.

  The elevator doors opened.

  “Take care, sweetheart,” he whispered and stepped into the elevator. “I love you, Frankie McGee.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It felt great to be back at Mama’s, if only for a few days.

  Settled comfortably in the antique rocker, Frankie pushed against the hardwood floor with the balls of her sneaker-clad feet. She closed her eyes and savored the motion that brought back memories of curling up in her mother’s arms, feeling safe, secure, and loved.

  Love. What an elusive concept. She’d nearly given her love to a man who thought her nothing more than a one-night stand.

  “Here’s the tea,” Mama said, walking into the living room carrying a small silver tray. “I even made lemon bars. I thought Bradley would be with you.”

  She studied Mama as she placed a lemon square on a plate, and poured tea. Her new, cropped hairstyle flattered her round face.

  “I like your hair,” Frankie said.

  “Thank you. Had to find a new hairdresser. Jeannie stopped cutting hair last year. One lump of sugar, right?”

  “Two?”

  “Anything for my beautiful daughter.”

  “Thanks.” Frankie needed to be loved and comforted. She needed to forget that she’d been nurtured by a man who stole her heart—a man who didn’t want her.

  “So, what’s bothering you?” Mama settled into the Queen Anne chair, the very place from which she’d read to Frankie as a child. Mama always looked impeccable. Today she was dressed in gray slacks and a print blouse, a strand of imitation pearls dipping below the fold of her collar.

  “Sweetie?” she prompted.

  “I’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”

  “Everything okay at work?”

  “I think so.” No voice mail messages or pink slip, that she knew of anyway. It suddenly dawned on her that she didn’t really care about her fancy job.

  “It’s Bradley, isn’t it?” Mama leaned forward.

  “How did you know?”

  “A good guess. He’s lucky to have such a smart and clever young lady as his girlfriend.”

  “I haven’t been too clever lately.”

  Mama raised a brow in question.

  “I’ve been helping Uncle Joe.”

  “Francine, no,” she hushed.

  “He needed my help because the promotion is in trouble. Only, it got away from me.”

  “Joe Sullivan has no scruples. I’ve told you that over and over again. We love him but we steer clear of his dramas.”

  “Well, I did get involved, and now everything’s a mess.” Frankie buried her face in her hands.

  The aged floorboards squeaked as Mama walked over and placed a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “Oh, honey. This is all my fault.”

  “Your fault?” She glanced up.

  “All this angst over a man who isn’t worth your trouble.”

  “Jack?”

  “Joe Sullivan.”

  “But Uncle Joe—”

  “Isn’t really your uncle.”

  Staring up at Mama, she felt the room tilt sideways. She couldn’t speak.

  “I’m sorry,” Mama said. “I shouldn’t have let him become such an important part of your life. But the truth is, well, Joe Sullivan’s loved me since the fifth grade.”

  “What?”

  Mama paced to the Queen Anne chair and slowly sat down.

  “Joe and I were childhood friends, but he’d always hoped for more. Knowing things were bad with your father, Sully took it upon himself to fill in as the loving uncle. He was always such a silly, lighthearted boy. He made me laugh, but I never considered him husband material. His prospects weren’t good. Can you imagine me living out of a suitcase, packing up and moving every time he got a wild idea about chasing a new angle to make him rich? ‘This one’s going to make me a millionaire,’ he’d say, always trying to prove that I should have married him instead of Thomas.”

  “Maybe he would have been better than Dad,” Frankie muttered. She stood and paced to the fireplace mantel, fingering the pewter picture frame of herself, Mom, and Dad on their one vacation to Florida.

  “You loved him, didn’t you?” Frankie said.

  “Who?”

  “Dad.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call it love.”

  She spun around and studied Mama, who drank tea as if she were discussing the news headlines of the day.

  “I don’t understand,” Frankie said.

  “I thought he’d make a fine husband and a good provider. By the time I realized my error in judgment it was too late. I couldn’t very well get a divorce. That was unacceptable in my family and I had no means to support a child. Besides, your father wasn’t a cruel man.”

  “But he was never there for us.”

  “I tried to change him, sweetheart. I really did.
We do the best we can with what we’ve got to work with.” She placed her cup on the glass end table. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You can make whatever choice you want.”

  “It’s an easy one. Bradley is everything I’ve dreamed of.”

  Mama studied her fingers, interlaced in her lap. “If he makes you happy, then I’m happy.”

  “I’m not exactly happy right now. I’m frustrated as hell.” Frankie glanced at Mama in apology for the curse. Her mother nodded, encouraging her to go on. “I resent Dad for never being around, I resent Bradley for his expectations, and I resent Uncle Joe for dragging me into this mess.”

  “What mess?”

  “Haven’t you heard? I’m his newest star.” She flung her arms above her head and wiggled her hips.

  “Frankie, you didn’t.”

  She paced to the rocker and collapsed. “It was supposed to be one night. It turned into promotional appearances, marrying a sexy wrestling cowboy, and carrying a whip.”

  “A whip?”

  “I’m a tigress who wears a leopard-skin bikini, and my partner is the infamous Black Jack Hudson, an impossible, infuriating man. He doesn’t plan anything. He lets life carry him along.”

  “Planning is good, of course, but—”

  “He’s an impossible man. I lose all sense of control around him. He picked me up and carried me into the ring. Do you believe that? Against my will!”

  “Is that all he did?”

  Frankie stared out the living room window at the red begonias blooming on Mama’s porch.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m frustrated, but I’m not confused about what I want or who I belong with, not anymore.”

  “And what do you want?” Mama came up beside her and stroked her hair.

  “A perfect, orderly, well-planned life.” She glanced into Mama’s eyes. “I want to know my husband is coming home at six every night, that he’ll take me out to dinner on Saturdays, and invest wisely to support his family. Bradley will do all that.”

  “Then you’ve decided he’s the right choice?”

  “He’s perfect. He’s forthright, dependable, and sturdy. Sturdier than a steel guardrail,” she added for good measure.

  “And Mr. Mr. Black Jack is…?”

  “He’s just a guy.” She paused and fingered the hem of her T-shirt. “A guy who saved me from being splattered into a million pieces. A guy who made me laugh and held me when I cried.” She sucked in a deep breath. Only then did she realize tears were streaming down her face.

  “I’ve always tried to do the right thing, to be a good girl,” she whispered. “If I was good I thought Dad would come home. But he didn’t. He didn’t love me enough to come home. I wondered if I was lovable at all.”

  But Jack had said as much when he’d made love to her. He’d said she was the most lovable person he’d ever known.

  She looked into Mama’s blue-green eyes. “I sound like a kook.”

  “No, you sound like you’re in love.”

  “Of course I’m in love. Bradley and I will make the perfect couple.”

  “We’re not talking about Bradley are we honey?” Mama’s gaze cut right to Frankie’s heart. Who did she think she was kidding?

  “He’s a wrestler, Mama, a wrestler who wants to travel and paint. Can you imagine? He’ll probably end up drawing caricatures of people on the street for pocket change. He’ll tumble through life doing who knows what.”

  “And if you love him, you’ll tumble right along with him.”

  “I can’t live like that, not feeling secure, not knowing if my husband will make my child’s school play. I’m going to fix all this and get my happy ending.”

  Mama put her arm around her. “I followed the rules once and ended up marrying your father. I didn’t love him, Frankie. I made that decision with my head, not my heart. Look where I ended up. If you’ve been lucky enough to find love, think real hard before letting it go.”

  “Jack doesn’t love me.”

  “Nonsense. How could he not love my special little girl? Now come on, splash a little water on your face to brighten your mood.”

  She absently followed her mother to the powder room, where Mama brushed at Frankie’s cheeks with a rose-colored washcloth.

  Frankie craved stability down to the marrow of her bones. She needed a man who would be her partner, carry his share of the weight, and help her up when she was down.

  Jack had held her, comforted her, and made love to her. But it was physical love, a kind of love that led nowhere. Jack wasn’t offering emotional love. She wondered if he had it to give, or even knew what it was.

  “There, all better,” Mama said with a final stroke of the cloth. “That Sullivan. I’d like to take a strap to that silly man.”

  “I’d like to see that.” Frankie chuckled.

  “And what about Bradley?”

  She glanced into Mama’s eyes. “He got me a deal on disposable diaper stock.”

  “How romantic,” Mama said in a sarcastic tone.

  “He gave me an engagement ring.”

  “And you said…?”

  “I didn’t have to say anything. He kind of assumed.” Frankie glanced at her mom. “I wish I knew what to do. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

  “Search your heart, honey. That’s where you’ll find your answers.”

  ***

  Frankie flew back to WHAK headquarters the next day to confront Sully. She secretly made her way through the building, hoping she wouldn’t run into Jack. She didn’t know if she could handle that today, or any other day.

  She hovered outside Sully’s door, watching him count a pile of butterscotch candies.

  “You imposter!” she accused from his office doorway.

  “What? Who? Where?” Sully jumped out of his chair and gripped the lapels of his brown polyester suit. His gaze darted around the room. Once he realized he was the only one there, he looked back at Frankie in question.

  “When I think of everything I’ve done for you, and you’re not even my uncle.” She stormed toward him.

  “Oh, well, that.” He tugged at his tie.

  She pulled the knot free and ripped the tie off. “Why do you bother with this thing? It only gives you away when you’re lying.”

  “Well, yes, gives me away. How is your mother?”

  “My mother?”

  He nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

  “She’s fine. But she doesn’t want you, Sully. When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

  His eyes dimmed, and he flopped back in his chair. “I guess I’ve always suspected as much.”

  “Then why? Why did you come around all the time and give me things, take me to ball games, and act like the father I wish I’d had? Because you wanted to endear yourself to Mama?”

  “For a college graduate you sure are stupid,” Maxine accused from the doorway.

  Frankie turned to the older woman who was a symphony in red from her tennis shoes to her spandex pants, topped off by an oversized T-shirt that read, “Mat Men Do It With Submission.”

  “Just because Sully isn’t blood doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you,” Max said.

  “You knew all along and didn’t tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my business to tell.”

  “Maxine, please, this is a family matter,” Sully said.

  The older woman backed away.

  “Stop right there,” Frankie ordered Max, then glared at Sully. “In case you haven’t figured it out, Max is the only family you’ve got, big guy. So I’d be real nice to her if I were you.”

  “Frankie, you’re not going to abandon me, not now when I need you most?” He reached for the knot of his tie but came up empty handed.

  “Why should I care? Why?”

  “I hate to interrupt this family squabble, but we’ve got company.” Max slammed the door shut and shouldered the mahogany credenza to block it.

  “Max?” Frankie said.

  �
�Pugsy and the snakes. Quick, help me with this.”

  Frankie crouched next to Max and gave a hardy push.

  “I’ll call security!” Uncle Joe said, pulling on his hair.

  “What have you done, Sully?” Frankie cried, giving the heavy piece of furniture one last shove into place.

  “I told them to go away. I told them never to come back.”

  Frankie rolled her eyes. As if a threat from Sully would scare off the mob. Max snatched Sully’s putter from the corner of the room.

  Frankie supposed she should be scared, maybe even terrified at the prospect of being attacked by the thugs. In reality, nothing scared her right now. With the explosive anger burning in her gut she pitied the fool who tried to tangle with her today.

  Pounding on the door made Frankie and Max shriek in unison.

  “I told them they don’t belong here,” Sully ranted. “We’re a legitimate company. We don’t want their kind.”

  “Like the mob is going to listen to you? What the hell were you thinking, taking money from them?” Frankie swiped a brass bookend from the shelf and weighed it in her hand.

  “Mob? What mob?” Sully said.

  She glanced at Max, then Sully.

  “Max said you borrowed money from the mob and Pugsy and the snakes are bag men coming to collect.”

  “Bag men?”

  “Did you borrow money from the mob or not?” Frankie demanded.

  “No! Honest, I haven’t done anything illegal since ’94 when I opened the midget strip club down in Quincy.”

  “The what?” Max said, hands on her hips.

  “Never mind,” Frankie said. “If these guys weren’t sent by the mob, who are they?”

  A loud thud sounded on the door.

  “Dammit, Sully!”

  “I liked it better when you called me Uncle Joe. And you shouldn’t swear. It’s not becoming.”

  She slammed the bookend on his desk and he jumped.

  “Okay! They’re two wrestlers from OW. They want to sign with us. We’ve become the preferred wrestling organization since you joined the team.” He grinned.

  She gripped the bookend with deadly force to keep from hurling it at her uncle.

  “They’re wrestlers?” she ground out.

  He nodded.

  “Max?”

  Max glared at Sully. “The last time they showed up you were terrified. You said you feared for your life.”