He pushed himself into a standing position and glanced around the room. When his attention settled back on her once again, he said, “Okay.”
As if there was nothing left to say, he shrugged his shoulders in mock resignation, then turned and headed for the door.
The door slammed shut, and she jumped. “Damn it.”
Roxanne preparing to leave with Frank was Candy’s cue that it was time to get herself a job. For convenience’s sake she accepted a waitressing position at a local restaurant that was close to home. If she was lucky the tips would be good too.
“So...” Roxanne lounged casually against the wall that opened to the stairs. “When do you start your new job?”
Candy twisted around on the couch and draped her arm over the back. “I told them I could start next week.”
“Sure you don’t want to go with us?” Roxanne pushed off the wall and moved to the couch, dropping down beside Candy.
“It’s not a good idea.” Candy turned back around and tucked her feet up under her. “It’ll give Rich the wrong impression.”
“Maybe you’ve got the wrong impression.”
“I’m going to be fine.”
“Listen...” Roxanne snatched her purse off the coffee table and dug around inside it. “Do me a favor?” she said, handing Candy a bankbook.
Candy fanned through the wallet-size ledger. Twenty-five grand. Was she serious? “I don’t want your money, Roxanne.” She handed back the bankbook.
“Look, I just want you to go out and buy a car.” Roxanne refused to take the ledger back. “A nice little sports job,” she said. “One you’d enjoy driving around.”
“I don’t need you to buy me a car.”
“How are you going to get around while I’m gone?”
“I’ll walk. Or I’ll take a cab. I’ll manage.”
“Your brother would never forgive me.”
Roxanne knew her weak spots. It wouldn’t do Candy any good to argue with her. Once she made up her mind, she wouldn’t stop until she got her way.
Candy let out a defeated sigh. “I’m putting the car in your name.”
“Whatever.” Roxanne shrugged. It didn’t matter to her, so long as she got her way.
***
Chapter 7
It took Roxanne less than two weeks to get tired of the bar scene. She’d mostly gotten fed up watching Rich and Glen screw around. Especially Glen. Glenna didn’t deserve that. She truly loved her husband, and this was the thanks she got. Glen’s infidelity.
And then there was Rich. How could he claim to love Candy when he openly amused himself every night with a different girl?
One morning around six a.m., after she and Frank had had a magnificent go of it, Roxanne lay comfortably draped over him and decided to share her feelings about all the debauchery. “Frankie...?” she called his name softly.
“Uh huh.” Frank was almost asleep.
“Why does Rich fool around so much if he’s supposedly got it so bad for Candy?”
“Well, she’s the one that doesn’t want any commitments,” he said, a little more coherently. “And you can’t expect him to swear off other women when he’s got it bad for a girl who doesn’t want anything from him but sex.”
Frank had a point. Maybe Roxanne had labeled Rich’s guilt a little too quickly, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. All she had to do was ignore it. Just block it out and it would go away.
“What about Glen?” she asked, her tone still serene.
“What about Glen?”
“Well, he and Glenna are married.” Her tone took on a definite edge.
“Look,” Frank said hesitantly, “they have a strange relationship.” He wasn’t exactly thrilled discussing Glen and Glenna. “It’s better left alone.”
Roxanne sat up abruptly. “So you condone his actions?” she questioned him in a judgmental way.
Frank, fully awake now, pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard. “I didn’t say that.” His outward exterior remained calm as he tried to conceal his true opinion. “I’m just saying it’s none of my business. But that doesn’t mean I condone what they do.” A hint of warning echoed in his voice. “You belong to me. No one else is to have you.”
“I take it that you practice what you preach?” she asked amid a soft giggle.
“I always practice what I preach,” he said with a gentle laugh. His arrogance made an appearance at the prospect of provoking jealousy in her. “I also understand…if you don’t want to go to the bar every night, that’s okay too.” Frank thought he had Roxanne figured out.
He could see her struggling with what she regarded as betrayal on Glen and Rich’s part. He didn’t necessarily disagree with her either. He just had very different ideas about who was being betrayed by whom.
In the end, Frank and Roxanne compromised on the nightclub issue. She would accompany him to the clubs on the weekends, but during the week she’d wait for him at the motel.
It took Roxanne about a week to get tired of watching television while Frank rocked out at the neighborhood bar. After that, it didn’t take long for an old passion to resurface. Back in high school, she’d entertained her friends with her short stories. When she married Chuck the writing stopped. She didn’t know why. It just stopped.
She hadn’t wanted to write anything in such a long time. But she wanted to write now. In her mind, she’d concocted two lovers suitably designed for one another, and placed them smack-dab in the middle of a perfectly troubled world. Now the story longed to be told.
The tale of Ben and Cherie, star-crossed lovers with the odds stacked against them, consumed Roxanne’s waking thoughts. But she intended to see that love does conquer all. Every night while Frank ventured out, rocking the clubs, she secretly crafted her story. She decided to make Ben a rock star from another country, where upon visiting the United States he met Cherie, who had no idea who he was. And Ben wouldn’t let on. He wanted Cherie to like him, not who he was….
Roxanne decided to title the book The Secret. In keeping with the theme of the story, she decided to keep her own little secret. Elusive about the whole thing, she opted not to tell Frank or anyone else about her project.
It didn’t take Roxanne long to realize that she needed help molding Ben’s character. And who better than Frank to help her figure that out? But she didn’t want anybody knowing her true motives—especially Frank. She had to be careful, not to mention tricky, in the way she handled her fact-finding mission.
The first time she brought it up, they were in the middle of lunch at the diner adjacent to the motel.
“Frankie…if I give you a hypothetical situation,” she said. “Would you tell me what you’d do in that case?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s suppose you’re a famous singer.” She set the scene while she sipped her orange juice.
“I like it so far.”
“You’re from another country, and you’ve come to conquer the States.”
Frank didn’t give the strange scenario much thought as he sipped his drink.
“Anyway...” Roxanne shrugged and went on, “you meet this girl. One you really like. But you want her to like you…not who you are.” She paused long enough for him to consider it. “Would you tell her right away? Or would you wait?”
“Well…” He let the odd scenario percolate in his mind. “If I really wanted her to like me, rather than who I was...” Frank had a hard time placing himself in this scene. He already had the girl, and he was far from famous, so he didn’t have to worry about why she liked him. “Well, I guess I’d probably hold off telling her for a while,” he said, finally making a choice.
She didn’t question him further, and Frank didn’t give her strange inquiries much more than a passing thought.
Six weeks into the tour, the band arrived in Titusville, Florida. They’d had Wednesday and Thursday nights as a primer for the weekend. Frank liked arriving at the next gig during the middle of the week. It gave him a chan
ce to get a feel for the place, insuring that over the weekend he’d give those people a show they’d never forget. Even if he did sing somebody else’s songs.
Friday afternoon, while Frank and Rich were out on a pizza run, Roxanne took the occasion to look over her story. She was so enthralled in working out the details that the unexpected knock at the door startled her. She shoved the loose papers erratically into the dresser drawer and closed it with a swift push. Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she hurried toward the door.
“That was quick.” She opened the door, expecting to see Frank and Rich. Instead, she found herself staring into the faces of Candy and Glenna.
“Quick?” Candy said skeptically. “Took us damn near three hours to get here.”
“Hi Roxie.” Glenna peered over Candy’s shoulder and smiled.
Roxanne took a moment to let their unexpected arrival sink in. “Come on in,” she said, finally gathering her wits.
“Well if you don’t mind...” Glenna backed away a couple of steps. “I’m going to go find my man.”
“Where’s Frank?” Candy wondered vaguely as Glenna strolled away.
“He and Rich went to get pizza.” Roxanne motioned Candy inside.
“So...” Candy perched herself on the edge of the bed nearest the door. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Roxanne said, closing the door. She moved toward the dresser and stood in front of it, as if protecting her writing from discovery.
“Are you happy?” Candy asked.
“Very.”
Roxanne gave all the right answers, but Candy knew something was wrong. What are you hiding? She wondered suspiciously of Roxanne. The door opened. Candy’s thoughts of interrogating her sister fell by the wayside.
Frank, and then Rich entered the room. Each carrying a pizza.
“Hey, Candy.” Frank greeted her with a half-smile.
“What’s happening, Frank?” Candy stood.
Rich set the pizza down on the table near the door and crossed the room to Candy’s side. “It’s nice to see you,” he said and kissed her tenderly.
“It’s good to see you too,” she agreed.
Taking Candy’s hand, Rich pulled her to the far side of the room. “I have to talk to you. It’s important,” he whispered.
“Okay,” she said, making light of his demeanor.
“I’m serious.”
“Okay.” She tried to wriggle her hands free.
“I’m no angel.” He locked his fingers around hers. “And I’m not going to lie and tell you that I have been. But now that you’re here, you’ll have my undivided attention.”
For a second, Candy got caught up in his deep brown eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and couldn’t resist letting her lips meet his. “It’s okay,” she said. His kiss was hard and searching.
Walking toward Roxanne, Frank pointed at Rich and Candy and laughed impishly. He cuddled her face in his hands, kissed her lightly and whispered against her ear. “Aren’t they silly?”
Roxanne giggled.
That evening, Roxanne sat back and watched Rich and Glen give all the local groupies the cold shoulder. The hometown girls seethed as the two band members, who’d been oh-so-friendly yesterday, entered the club tonight sporting these unknown women on their arms. None of the slighted fans tried to hide their anger.
Roxanne couldn’t understand how Candy and Glenna, especially Glenna, could stand to witness this exposition as it played out between the guys in the band and the local girls. The whole thing proved unsettling for Roxanne. “Let’s go out and burn one.” Her suggestion came abruptly.
“Okay.” Candy popped up from her chair and grabbed her purse.
The girls headed outside, and made themselves comfortable in the back of Roxanne’s van.
Glenna initiated the ritual by pulling a joint out and firing it up. “Did you see all those girls giving me the evil eye when I walked in on Glen’s arm?” she asked with an amusing laugh and passed the joint to Roxanne. Glenna didn’t seem to care, one way or another, about what she obviously knew.
“No shit.” Candy let out a sharp laugh. “I caught a few of those myself.”
Roxanne choked on the smoke, coughing. “I can’t believe you two think that’s funny.” She handed the joint to Candy.
“Roxie…” Glenna said in a discerning tone, “I’m not blind to the facts of what goes on when I’m not around. But I also know…” She gave Roxanne one of those looks that said she wasn’t worried, and in a controlled voice said, “when push comes to shove…” She shrugged with a measure of confidence. “I come first.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?” Roxanne asked doubtfully.
Candy passed the joint to Glenna, saying nothing, just following the conversation with an entertaining grin edging up the corners of her mouth.
“Not as long as Glen doesn’t flaunt it in my face,” Glenna said. “You must understand.” She stopped long enough to take a hit off the joint. “The groupies, they got one thing on their minds.” She stopped again, holding her breath this time. An act that allowed her to float away on the drug. “They want to screw a musician. Any musician.” Slowly, Glenna blew the smoke out in a long, lingering trail. “They put it right there in their faces. And believe me, a stiff dick has no conscience.” There was no doubt in her tone, no fear in her words. She handed the joint to Roxanne. “And I’m not going to let some two-bit slut destroy my marriage,” she added, in an almost vindictive tone.
Roxanne toked on the joint and a disturbing thought crossed her mind. Glenna not only knew about it—she accepted her husband’s infidelity. Anxiety colored Roxanne’s thoughts with visions of what Frank might be doing out on the road if she wasn’t there. She tried to expel the ugly thoughts invading her head, right along with the smoke as she exhaled and handed the joint to Candy.
“You got a clip?” Roxanne said to Candy.
“Yeah.” Candy pulled a roach-clip from her purse and clamped it onto the joint.
Glenna picked up on Roxanne’s anxiety. “I’m not saying that’s what Frank would do.” She had to get that notion out of Roxanne’s head. Otherwise, Frank would hit the roof. “So don’t go judging him by my husband’s actions.”
Glenna prayed Roxanne had nothing but pure thoughts of Frank. If not, there would be hell to pay. Frank would see to that.
A few days later, Frank and Roxanne were lounging by the motel’s pool, along with most of the band and their current guests. With Candy and Glenna gone, Rich and Glen had reverted back to their old ways.
Roxanne turned away. It sickened her, watching Rich and Glen letting a bunch of groupies jump through hoops to decide who would be the lucky one—or ones—tonight.
Frank seemed to be enjoying the task of polishing Roxanne with suntan oil, and she let her thoughts wander off to her story. With hopes of diverting her thoughts elsewhere, she decided to question Frank about Ben and Cherie.
“Frankie…”
“Yeah.”
“Remember the hypothetical situation we talked about a while back?”
“About the rock-n-roll guy?” he asked.
“Yeah. Remember the girl? The one you’d hide it from?”
“Yeah.” Frank chuckled. “I remember her too.”
“Well, suppose that the more you get to know her, the more you realize she’s not going to like it when she finds out that you’ve been hiding this big secret from her.” Roxanne paused, giving the idea time to ramble around inside Frank’s head. “So what do you do now?”
“If I tell her…it’s very likely I’m going to get dumped.” His voice pitched higher, as if he realized the probable outcome in mid-sentence.
Roxanne nodded.
“And if I really liked her…I probably wouldn’t tell her until I was backed into a corner,” he said. “If she’s going to dump me, I might as well enjoy what little time I have left with her.”
Suddenly, Frank realized the conversation was pointless. Figuring it had to be a basis for
something else, he asked suspiciously, “What are you getting at? You don’t think I’m screwing around, do you?” He didn’t like her thinking that. Didn’t want her thinking that. He hadn’t cheated on her and he had no plans to do so in the future.
“No!” she replied sharply.
“Then what’s this line of questioning really about?”
“It’s not about anything,” she said. “It’s not real.”
“Can we drop it and forget about it then?” For some reason it made him nervous.
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