“Pregnant,” she said bluntly. “But then I guess you knew that; I suspect that is why you’re here.”
“Well, I do have a vested interest,” he said. He took a large bite from his burger.
“So I get it—this is an intervention,” guessed Frankie.
“Honey, we’re here to talk to you. We all love you and want what’s in your best interest,” said Geraldine. “Have a seat.”
Frankie plopped down in her seat and folded her arms defiantly. “All right, talk.”
“How thoroughly did you think about your decision to marry Alex?” asked Geraldine.
“Very,” Frankie responded, adding more vinegar to her fries.
“I want you to imagine something for me,” said Geraldine. “Imagine being at your house in England with a baby—you don’t know anyone, you don’t have any friends, your family is far away, and Alex is on tour somewhere in the world.”
“Well, I’ll have the other band members’ wives to hang out with,” responded Frankie.
“Imagine all the women around the world screaming for your husband, trying to meet him, kiss him, and have sex with him,” continued Geraldine. “And imagine some of those girls succeeding.”
Frankie eyed Geraldine just as she was about to bite into her burger. She set it down and asked, “What do you mean succeeding? Where are you getting this crap?”
“A reporter who followed the band on tour,” said Stanley. “He filled me in on the band’s extracurricular activities while on the road and even at home.”
Frankie sat back in her chair. “Reporters? That’s what you got? Reporters make up shit just to sell stories.”
“This is not about reporters; it is about Alex,” said Marcus. “The issue is Alex’s behavior, attitude, and actions.”
“It’s not all Alex, you know,” Frankie said, defending him. “How would you like it if there was constantly a microphone shoved at your mouth, cameras constantly flashing wherever you went? Don’t you think you’d get a little punchy? And the women? Yes, I know all about them, hanging around all over the place—outside the stage door, hotel entrances, airports—constantly screaming. Can you honestly tell me you’d have supreme will power to avoid temptation? Alex is a product of his environment; it is not him. What you see is not who he is.”
“He obviously isn’t that sweet boy next door his manager tries to sell to girls,” said Marcus. “Besides, is Alex’s environment suitable for raising a family? Once you marry—once you have the baby—the press will follow you everywhere.”
“Like they do now?” argued Frankie.
“Yes, Frankie, but you’ve never punched anyone,” said Stanley. “You’ve never thrown drinks at photographers.”
Frankie laughed with a shrug.
Stanley looked back and forth between Geraldine and Marcus and then shook his head. “Well, I honestly do know that Alex’s manager is not happy with the news either,” said Stanley as he took another bite of his burger.
“Too bad. It’s private between Alex and me,” said Frankie.
Stanley wiped his mouth clean of burger drippings. “Alex has already received death threats, he’s been beaten up, and he’s had food thrown at him. When the news breaks about you being knock . . . about having a baby with America’s prettiest girl, can you imagine how much more dangerous it will be for Alex?” he asked and chuckled as he looked around the table with a hint of irony. “Talk about your British Invasion. Looks like Alex Rowley didn’t just invade; he colonized.”
Marcus glared at Stanley and then tried to appeal to Frankie by saying: “Not to mention for you and the baby.”
Geraldine studied Frankie and still saw defiance in her eyes. “Well, it’s no matter. She will already have a built-in English nanny.”
“What do you mean by that?” questioned Frankie. “I’m not going have a nanny raise my child.”
“Well, I’m just referring to Alex’s live-in girlfriend. I supposed she can help you with the rearing of your child,” explained Geraldine.
Frankie sank in her seat. This was an angle she hadn’t thought of. She bit her bottom lip, remembering when Alex was punched at a concert. She was keenly aware of what he went through and his anxiety around fans, but the fact that he was still living with his girlfriend was what sank to her very soul.
Geraldine leaned across the table urging Frankie. “One of you needs to be the sensible one. Sometimes being a grown up means having to make very difficult decisions.”
Frankie choked. “What difficult decisions?”
Stanley sat upright and said rhetorically, “You know, Frankie, I must give Alex Rowley credit. He is a lot smarter than I expected. His advice to you was . . . what? Don’t tell anyone? Keep it a secret? Do you know why he said that, Frankie?”
Frankie shook her head numbly.
“Because he knows the repercussions and the dangers; he knows your parents would disapprove and try to convince you otherwise. He knows what it will do to your career and reputation, but he wants you and indeed wants to marry you. He’s sneakily rushing you into this and then you’ll have to face the fallout,” said Stanley. He then looked up at Marcus and said, “Smart kid. It’s very street.”
“That’s why it’s important for you to be the wise one; you have to be the adult here, Frankie,” said Geraldine. “This is more than just romantic and passionate love; this is life, and it will affect both you and Alex’s lives forever. You can love him with all your heart and soul, but do you want ruin your future happiness, your career, your reputation? Do you want to put Alex’s life in more danger? Because you’re pregnancy will do that. It seems obvious he’s willing to risk your career and reputation, are you willing to risk his life?”
Frankie looked down and rubbed her belly. “What about the life of my baby?” Looking around the table into the eyes of her parents and agent she only saw a wall of resistance. As far as they were concerned, the decision had already been made. They were trying to sway her over to their side, and it was working.
Tears started to drip down her cheeks. This was a decision she never dreamed she would have to make and it was devastating. “Excuse me,” she said and then rushed away from the table.
Upstairs Frankie sat on the edge of her bed and stared at all the pictures of Alex hanging on her wall. A Dark Knights record spun on the turntable. Before she met Alex and the rest of the Dark Knights, she never really listened to the lyrics of their songs; they were all just a good, heavy rock beat to dance, similar to the Animals—heavy lyrics to match their beat.
“Precipice of Indecision” was a song inspired by Alan Ginsberg poetry in which Robbie Marin was quite a fan. Reclining back in her bed, she listened to the pain in Robbie’s voice as he sang:
Fled to my own bedroom palace
Coalescing into an ineffable infinity
I, afraid of the days to come,
Trembling on the precipice of indecision.
In my mind I felt
I should make some decision
But I lept too slowly
And before I knew she was gone.
Something about the song was prophetic for Frankie, sitting alone with the biggest decision of her own life. She wondered what was really going on with Alex, where he was and did he really love her. Sure it’s easy to write songs and poetry, but what does it really mean when a man’s actions are lacking. There was a knock on the door to which Frankie did not respond. She slumped on her bed as her mother entered.
Geraldine sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the floor. “I have a secret that only your father knows. I was single and pregnant once.”
Frankie wiped eyes and looked at her mother. “When?”
“I was seeing this man around the same time I was dating your father, and I got pregnant,” explained Geraldine. “When the other man found out, he dashed. Your father was such a kind, gentle soul; he agreed to make an honest woman of me.”
“So you mean Eddie is . . .” replied Frankie.
“I don’t know for sure. But it was a big lesson for me about love and men—some men will be there for you and some will not. It is what all women must look for when it comes to love and settling down into marriage.” Geraldine glanced up at the pictures of Alex on the wall. “Although he seems to be doing the right thing, I’m convinced he is not capable of being there for you one hundred percent.” She put her arm around Frankie’s shoulder. “You and your baby deserve a husband and father that will be there one hundred percent, not when he’s in town, available, or when it suits his mood.”
Frankie buried her head in her hands. The truth from her mother sank very deep. “Mom, I can’t tell you how much I love him.”
Geraldine patted Frankie on the shoulder. “There is love and then there is marriage.” She stood from the bed and quietly left the room.
“Mom,” Frankie cried tearfully. “Then what do I do?”
Geraldine stopped and turned back to Frankie. “Do what is best for you, Frankie.” She left Frankie alone, closing the door behind her.
Collapsing on her pillow, Frankie finally gave her pregnancy heavy consideration. Everything she valued went against the idea of giving up her baby. She had heard stories of pregnancies out of wedlock and always thought that what people needed to do was take responsibility for their actions. She and Alex were taking responsibility; they were doing what was expected of them. Now her parents and agent were selling her a different perspective—a reasonable and sensible one. She was so confused.
She couldn’t sleep that night. Turning to see the clock, she saw the minute hand was just about to strike twelve. It’s five o’clock in the morning in England, she thought. Frankie needed to talk to him, scream at him, cry to him. She was so afraid, so uncertain, and so very angry. How could he possibly continue to live with her? she thought. She should have been gone the moment I told Alex I was pregnant and he said he’d marry me.
Frankie rose from her bed and snuck downstairs to the living room. She sat down on the couch, lifted the telephone receiver and dialed. A part of her hoped Sarah would answer the phone so she could tell her what a two-timing, lousy-ass, lying boyfriend she had. She waited for someone (anyone) to answer the phone.
In England, Alex stretched awake in his bed with Sarah’s arm draped over his chest. It was growing harder sleeping with Sarah. She always just wanted him and made everything so easy no matter his avoidance by staying out late with friends, or business with tours and the studio.
It was plain to see that things had changed between him and Sarah. When he was with her, his mind often drifted and even his body language—the way he leaned away from her when standing right alongside her—seemed to tell the story of their relationship. He was pulling away and Sarah was holding on tight. The tighter she clung, the easier she made things for him, the harder it was for him to make a clean break.
The phone rang around five in the morning and rattled Alex and Sarah awake. Alex rose from the bed, sliding out from under Sarah and into his underwear. He walked into the kitchen to answer the phone. “Hello?” he grumbled, still half asleep, but all he heard was a soft muttering.
“Hello.”
Frankie sat alone in the darkness of her parents’ living room. “It’s me,” she said softly, trying to hold back her tears.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
Frankie wiped her tears. “I can’t go to Bermuda.”
Alex leaned against the wall, deflated. “Ah, okay,” he sighed. “We can plan something else. Maybe we can meet for Christmas. Maybe I can get to the US.”
“No, that won’t work either,” she sniffed.
“Um, all right.” He paused and asked, “What’s going on here?”
Frankie pulled herself together to be strong enough for her next words. “I can’t see you anymore.” Alex said nothing, which confused Frankie. “Did you hear me?”
“No. I can’t accept that.”
“What do you mean you can’t accept that? You have to.”
“Why?” he asked strongly as a tidal wave of emotion brewed in his solar plexus.
Frankie started to cry. “Alex.”
“Why?” he asked again. “Tell me why or I am getting on the next plane to New York and you’re going to have to tell it to my face.”
“Why don’t you invite Sarah along?” questioned Frankie harshly.
Alex froze and then laughed nervously. “Sarah?!” he choked out. “What the hell does she have to do with it?”
“I don’t know, Alex. Are you planning for her to be our English nanny?” Frankie asked angrily.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Where are you getting all this?”
“Tell me! Are you still living with that skinny bitch?!”
Peeking around the corner of the kitchen he could see Sarah’s legs in bed. He paced around the kitchen scratching his head. He had a lie on the tip of his tongue. It might have been easier, but he went with the truth instead. “The skinny bitch has been hard to get rid of,” he said with an awkward laugh.
“Do you think this is funny?” she howled. “I am over here in America, pregnant with your child, and you’re still fucking that bitch!”
“Frankie, calm down. It’s going to be okay. I promise you. It’s all going to work out. I just need to figure out a way,” he said calmly.
“How about this?” Frankie asked. “‘I’m in love with another girl. She is pregnant with my child. Get out of my house!’ Unless of course you don’t love me like you say you do.”
“I tried that and she didn’t go for it,” he said, bringing his tone down to a whisper.
“So then I guess you just don’t have the balls to stand up for love, do you?”
Alex stopped pacing and watched Sarah lying in bed. He whispered into the phone, “I know people. You start making waves, and they will blab it to the world. You know what will happen if this gets out beforehand, everyone will try to stop us—everyone. That’s why I told you not to tell anyone.”
“Did you tell Sarah?”
“Yes, but not that it was you. I told her because I thought she’d leave me for sure, but she didn’t.”
“She’s not leaving?!”
“Not yet, no. Look, when we’re married she’ll have to.”
Frankie laughed.
“When I told you I’m taking care of everything, I meant it. We’re doing the right thing, Frankie. You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?” asked Alex.
Frankie paused. She had thought she had known Alex so well, but now she had doubts. For the past couple of months he was only a voice on the telephone. She didn’t know what he was really doing or who he really was. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Alex laughed, attempting to ease the tension. “My first name is actually Shane. My full name is Shane Alexander. I just go by Alex.”
“So what you are telling me is I got pregnant by a Shane.” She sighed heavily. “Gee, Alex—Shane—whoever you are, how can I ever trust you?”
“Frankie, you’re being ridiculous. Alex is my name—my middle name. Is Frankie your real name?”
“It’s Francesca!”
“See? And I thought it was Francine,” he replied lightly. “I like Francesca; it is a beautiful name.”
“But . . . Shane? SHANE?!”
“What’s your problem? What’s in a name?”
“Well, I thou
ght the father of my child was named Alex, now I learn it was Shane.”
“Shane was my grandfather’s name. Is Shane too common for you? What’s your middle name.”
“Marie.”
“Like Antoinette? Are you going to toss your scraps at me?”
“You’re an ass. Fat chance I’m going to marry you now. Good thing I found out sooner than later.”
Alex laughed. “The joke’s on you, princess, you have to marry me.”
“Why? Because I am carrying your baby? Do you think I’m your property?”
“Damned right you’re my property—you and the baby.”
“And what about Sarah?”
“You let me handle Sarah.”
“Sweetheart, I think she’s handling you. What has she got over you anyway? Why can’t you tell her to get lost? If you truly loved me like you say, she’d be gone already. And let me make something clear to you: I am not, nor my baby are your property!. Got that? I don’t know what it is with men who think they own a woman. No one owns me.”
Alex puffed on his cigarette. There had to be something he could say to calm her. “Frankie, I love you and I don’t give a goddamn about anything else. You gotta believe me.”
Frankie held tightly onto the receiver as tears fell from her eyes. “I’m having a hard time believing.”
Alex felt his body tighten and he hand a strong urge to punch something, but anything in striking distance would surely break his hand. There was nothing he could do from three thousand miles away. He couldn’t embrace her; he couldn’t shake sense into her. He only had his words and he wasn’t having much success. “I love you. I don’t know what else you want me to say or do.”
“Goodbye, Alex,” she said and then hung up the phone. The phone rang immediately. Knowing it had to be Alex, Frankie picked up the phone and hung up again. She left the phone off the hook. Sitting on the couch, alone in the darkness, Frankie buried her face in her palms and sobbed heavily. She had felt like she had cut off a part of her soul and she was sure there was no way she would be whole again.
Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know) Page 23