by Mandi Beck
“Do something, Deacon!” Indie is not as subtle in her reaction, her rockabilly self up in my face while she jabs me in the chest. “You cannot let this shit happen! Grow a set of balls and do something!” She pushes her cat-like glasses up her nose and yanks at her brown curls. “If she marries him—actually fucking marries him—we will lose her forever. He’ll make her a fucking Stepford wife. Deac, go! Tighten the hell up and tell her that you love her already!” Indie’s rambling so fast I almost can’t catch all the insults she’s hurling at me. The tears pooling in her eyes are the kicker though. “You’re a fighter for fuck’s sake, so fight for her!”
Finally I blink, her words sinking in. How long has Indie known that I’m in love with Frankie?
Never mind that shit. She’s right. I can’t let this happen. That’s my girl and there is no way I’m going to stand by while she marries anyfuckingbody let alone that asshole.
My eyes land on Frankie holding a champagne flute, and I can’t help but shake my head in disgust. I turn toward the bar and away from that tattoo-removing, proposing-to-my-girl, fucking asshole standing with a proprietary hand on her back, talking to a group of friends as they gush over her ring. Giving the bartender my drink order, thinking hateful shit until he hands me the drinks, I make my way over to where they’re standing. Without saying a word, I pluck the flute from Frankie’s hand placing it on the tray of a waiter walking by and put a glass in her hand.
“Vodka cran, tall, extra lime for the birthday girl.”
“Thanks, Deacon,” she says, smiling up at me.
“I’m sure she would much rather have champagne to celebrate her birthday and engagement, friend,” Andrew says in that pompous ass tone of his.
Who the fuck does this asshole think he is?
Sneering at him, “I’m sure she wouldn’t -- champagne gives her a migraine, friend.”
“No, it does not,” Andrew huffs
Frankie looks away sheepishly.
“Does it, Francesca?” he asks, completely shocked.
“Seems like something a fiancé should know about his woman, yeah?” I say, unable to hide the smirk at his ignorance.
He just glares at me with unabashed hate, but I couldn’t give a fuck less. I smile wider, even though my jaw is ticking. The only thing stopping me from knocking him on his ass is one of the twins jumping up and down, holding Frankie’s hand, the one with that asshole’s ring on it, reminding me where I am. Otherwise the motherfucker would be laid out.
I look at the Princess and noticed that she is smiling, but it never really reaches her eyes. I know my girl, and seeing the look on her face confirms she isn’t as happy as she’s letting on—she’s pretending. Before I can even process what it might mean, I feel someone slip their arm through mine. I look down and see Indie there smiling up at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes before turning her attention to Frankie.
“Congratulations, doll. Now that Drew has had the chance to give you his present, why don’t the rest of us do the same? Sound good to you, Deacon?” she asks innocently. Focusing on me again, that evil twinkle behind her glasses reminding me that whether she likes me most days or not, she’s on my side.
Indie and I wear matching grins, and she just moved up about ten spots in my book. “Sounds good to me. Let everyone know that the birthday girl will be opening presents and we’ll set up at the head table in a few.”
I go back into the house, grab my little bag and another drink—I’m going to need it. As I head back outside toward the table, I see Frankie sitting there, smiling and laughing at something Indie is saying. I love seeing her like this. Her laugh is intoxicating, the way she throws her head back exposing her throat makes me want to bury my face in her neck and just inhale her. Turning my attention away from them the smile falls from my lips as I see Andrew off to the side watching them as well. By the look on his face though, he isn’t nearly as taken by the scene as I am. Taking long strides to where Indie is now placing packages and cards in front of Frankie, I hand her the bag.
“Save this one for last, Indie.”
“Oh, absolutely, sir. I always save the best for last.” With a wink and a little fist bump, she turns back to the gifts and Frankie.
I walk over and stand next to Andrew; my brothers, materializing from seemingly nowhere, following close by. I think that they’re worried I might smash my fist into his pretty-boy face. Which they’re right to worry. I’m having a hard time remembering why I shouldn’t.
When it comes time for my gift, I smile over at Frankie and watch her as Indie walks over to join our odd little group.
“Who is this one from? I didn’t hear you say, Indiana.”
Only this asshat calls Indie by her given name. She hates when he does it, but he is one of those people that believes in using peoples “proper” names, not what he calls “silly nicknames.”
“Oh, that one is from Deacon, Drew. She’s going to love it…he always gets her the best gifts. I bet it’ll be her favorite present this year!” Indie tells him sweetly, making sure to get that final dig in.
I love how she emphasizes the name “Drew.” Like me, she knows how he hates it. All during their little exchange, my eyes never leave the Princess as she looks into the bag and pulls out the first little, blue box. She smiles—a real smile—and looks up, searching the small crowd around her. Finally her eyes find me and she smiles even wider. I wink at her, giving her a nod to go ahead and see what’s in the box. My hands are stuffed in my pockets as I watch her, loose limbed and relaxed, my mouth kicked up in an excited smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Drew shifting from foot to foot, looking on edge.
The first box she opens is a charm for her charm bracelet that I bought her years ago. It’s a little book…Frankie reads like it’s her damn job! If she isn’t dancing, she’s reading. I hear Andrew exhale, almost as if he’s relieved that it’s just a charm. Don’t get too ahead of yourself, dick…I’m just getting started, I think as I laugh softly.
Frankie looks up and mouths “Thank you,” blowing me a little kiss before handing the box off to someone. I look briefly in Andrew’s direction, just in time to see the cocky, little smile he’d been wearing slip as Frankie pulls another much bigger box from the bag. I glance down at Indie and give her an ‘Oh yeah, this is gonna be good!’ smirk of my own. We’re both brought back to Frankie when we hear her gasp softly. I’m almost certain that I hear our boy Drew groan, but I can’t be positive because at that moment, one of Frankie’s friends lets out a squeal that only dogs should be able to hear.
The Princess raises her hand to her throat as she looks up at me. I can see the tears welling in her beautiful blues, her lips trembling slightly, and I just smile, motioning with my hand for her to put it on. I can’t wait to see his face when he sees what it is. I had it custom made for her. She has one of the girls help clasp the necklace around her neck, gently fingering one of the stones, the one that settles right in the hollow of her throat as it’s clasped. A soft smile replaces the trembling lip from moments before. Her fingers touch the other two stones before she lifts her head and our gazes lock. There is no thanks needed—the look on her face tells me all I need to know. I did good, again. Standing, she thanks everyone for the lovely gifts and for coming before she turns to talk to the friend writing all the shit she got down. As she is talking to her, I can feel Andrew-the-douche shooting daggers at me.
“Do you think it is appropriate to be buying another man’s fiancée expensive jewelry?” he hisses.
I tense at the word “fiancée.” My eyes narrow as I look down on his much shorter than my own six-foot-three frame.
“Hey, Sonny, what did I get Frankie last year for her birthday?” I ask my brother pointedly.
“Jewelry,” Sonny replies.
“Mav, what did I get her the year before?” I still have not looked away from a seething Drew, but I can just imagine the shit-eating grins my brothers and Indie are sporting at the little scene playing out betwe
en Drew and me.
“Definitely jewelry, bro. The good shit,” Maverick says smugly.
“Indie, the year before that?”
Still keeping eye contact with him, I watch as his face reddens more and more with every word spoken.
“Oooooh, one of her favorites. That’s the year you had that bracelet made for her. A black and gray diamond anchor. She wears it all the time.”
I nod my head in agreement.
“You see, Drew, this is my thing. I get the Princess jewelry every year and that’s not gonna change because you came to town, my man,” I say, crossing my arms across my chest and widening my stance.
He sneers at me and all but spits out, “The ‘Princess.’ That sounds so juvenile. You do realize that she is a grown woman and not a five-year-old, right?”
I don’t even get a chance to open my mouth before Mav steps up. Towering over him in his anger, his inked up arm and fierce glare make him look as if he’s the fighter in the family right now instead of the PR guy and sometimes trainer. My older brother points a finger at Drew-the-dick and says in a low voice, “She’s always been the Princess to us, always will be. When you’re the only girl raised with three rowdy as fuck boys and two fathers, you’re damn right she’s the Princess, jackass! You can call her whatever the hell you want, but know this: we for damn sure will call her the Princess whether your pansy ass approves or not.”
At that moment, Frankie makes her way up to us with her friend, Jill, in tow, not realizing that she just walked into a bit of a shit storm. Never breaking stride, she doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of me. I uncross my arms from my chest to pull her in to me as she throws her arms around my waist and squeezes tight.
“Thank you so much, Deac. I absolutely love them both, especially my necklace,” Frankie says, giving me another tight squeeze.
I lean back to get a look at the necklace, and at the same time, her stellar rack and smile.
“It looks good on you, Princess,” I tell her honestly.
“Deacon, you always find her the greatest little gems. I’m going in tomorrow to buy myself one just like it. Well, maybe not just like it…I’ll have to get it with smaller diamonds, big spender,” Jill says on a laugh.
I look down at Frankie again as she touches the necklace and smiles back at me. It’s three strands of the thinnest, almost invisible platinum, and each strand has a heart-shaped diamond on it making them look like they are literally floating on air.
“Sorry, Jill, it’s one of a kind. I had it made for her a couple of months ago.”
I hear Andrew’s teeth clack together when I drop that little bomb.
“Oh, wow! We were just talking about how he gets you jewelry every year and that awesome anchor bracelet that he had made for you. This boy is so good!” Indie says, goading Drew even more.
Frankie and her friend nod enthusiastically.
“It’s true, he is. I’m very lucky,” Frankie says before tugging me down and brushing a kiss across my cheek.
“Thank you, for everything,” she whispers and places another kiss to my stubbled cheek.
Willing my hard on to calm the fuck down over a simple peck, I answer with a tight smile.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like them, though I was pretty sure that you would,” I tell her, winking.
Laughing at me, she pushes against my chest, but I don’t budge.
“I do. I love them so much,” she rasps.
Between the stirring in my dick that I’m trying to hide from her and me being completely mesmerized by her beauty, I can only nod and smile at her. Just as I am about to pull her in for another hug, Andrew clears his throat loudly.
“Yes, well, I’m sure you all won’t mind if I steal my fiancée away for a dance,” he says arrogantly, taking her elbow and pulling her from my arms.
As he leads her away, she glances back at me over her shoulder and mouths “Thank you” and “I’m sorry,” then blows me a kiss before she turns to follow him again.
After watching them for two of the longest fucking songs of my life, I am about to lose my shit. I turn to Indie.
“Go have the DJ play something for me and the Princess,” I demand.
She looks at me with wide eyes “Me?” she squeaks in a very un-Indie like way.
“Yes, Indie, you. Make sure it’s something slow.” I throw the words over my shoulder as I stalk to where Drew has Frankie loosely in his arms on the makeshift dance floor.
“My turn,” I say, not asking permission for shit.
“Of course. Andrew doesn’t mind,” Frankie says, beaming up at me.
Oh, but he does. He so fucking does mind. Ask me if I give a fuck though. Ever the gentleman, he hands my girl over to me with a closed smile and a slight bow. Seriously? I don’t bother to say shit to him.
I wrap one arm around her waist, taking her small hand in mine, flipping her wrist and planting a kiss there before I pull her in tight and place our joined hands on my chest right over my heart. Frankie’s body instantly molds itself to mine seamlessly, as if it too knows it’s made for me. As soon as the song starts, I whip my head up and look at Indie, who just shrugs at me from the DJ booth, a snarky, little grin on her face. She probably couldn’t have picked a better song, really, but the first lines of “Burn” are a little harsh. My eyes close as the words wash over me “Oh mama, don’t walk away, I’m a goddamn sore loser, I ain’t too proud to stay…” Probably seems that way because it hits so close to home. I shake my head, wrap myself around my girl, and sway gently, her head now resting on my chest, as I listen to my boy Ray Lamontagne lay it all out there for me while I try to figure out how in the hell to tell her that I love her. Not just “We’ve been friends forever” I love you, but “I want to slam you up against a wall and get balls deep in you until you’re screaming so loud that the neighbors know my name” kind of I love you. Fuck me, I hope that this is the long version of this song.
After the next song is getting ready to come to an end, I still haven't said shit to her. I’m starting to feel a little panicked. I glance around the party and see Andrew heading our way, so without even thinking about it, I take her hand and start pulling her off the dance floor toward the house.
“Deacon, what's the matter? Where are we going?”
“I just want to talk to you; I'm leaving tomorrow.” I don't know why I throw that out there. She knows my schedule as well as I do, probably better. I just know I need her away from him and that I need a minute to think. Once we get into the house, I steer us toward the stairs up to my office.
“Slow down…I have short legs, you giant ass!” she jokes.
“Sorry, I forgot you were a little person for a second,” I huff out on a laugh, winking over my shoulder at her.
She just rolls her eyes at me, letting me pull her along at a slower pace. Once we get to my office, I have no clue what the hell I’m going to say to her. I walk over to the music system that I left on up here and start scrolling through the music, not really looking for anything, just trying to gather my thoughts. I stop on Kings of Leon and am about to say something. What, I'm not sure, but something...I think…when she starts talking.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?” she asks, her brow furrowed in worry.
I just look at her, take it all in, how she makes me feel just by standing there, just by being. “Are you happy with him, Frankie?” I blurt, startling both of us.
“W-what? With Andrew? Why would you even ask me that?”
“That's not an answer, Princess. Are you happy with him?”
“Yes, of course I am! I can't believe you!” Frankie says in an exasperated tone.
“So you love him?” My eyes locked on her face, I search for the answer that I want—fuck, that I need.
“Deacon, what is this about? Is it the proposal? Do you think it's too soon?” she asks before going on, “I'll admit I was surprised, but I guess I should've seen it coming. I mean, we've moved in together. It's the natural pro
gression, right?” she rambles a little nervously, then starts biting at the pad of her thumb.
“Are you asking me if you should marry him, Frankie? Because if you are, then the answer is no. Fuck no, you shouldn't be marrying him.” Crossing my arms over my chest, waiting for that to sink in takes less time than I thought it would.
She sucks in an audible breath, narrowing her eyes at me. “What the fuck do you mean ‘no’? What are you saying, Deacon? I thought you liked him, that you were happy for me?”
“Fuck no, I don't like him, Princess! I tolerate him for you, and I'm barely managing that lately,” I nearly shout.
“I have no idea what the hell has gotten into you tonight.” She points a finger at me, clearly pissed. “I don't need to ask your permission to accept a marriage proposal from my boyfriend. My boyfriend whom I live with. My fiancé who loves me!” Frankie snaps.
Oh yeah, she's pissed, and it's fucking hot. She has her hands planted firmly on her sexy little hips with that stupid ring taunting me. Before I even think about it, I stalk from behind my desk, closing in on her, our bodies almost touching. Her chest rising and falling visibly with how aggravated she is with me. I snatch her hand and hold it in mine.
“It’s ugly,” I tell her matter-of-factly, like we weren’t just in a yelling match.
“What? What's ugly?” Thrown off by my abrupt shift, she stands looking at me like I’ve lost my fucking mind. Maybe I have.
“This ring—it's ugly,” I lean down and whisper in her ear, throwing her off even further. “It's not you. But that doesn't surprise me, because he doesn't know you, not the real you,” I tell her with a shrug of my shoulders.
A slight shudder brought on by my nearness rocks her before she shakes it off. “It's not ugly!” she huffs, looking down at it.
I know what I’m doing to her, keeping her off balance by crowding her, touching her. I need this in more ways than one. Standing straight again, watching her for a reaction. “It is, Frankie. You hate it and you know it. Admit it and then admit that you shouldn't be dating him let alone marrying him. I heard you say you live with him and that he loves you, but I noticed that you didn't say that you love him.” The last words leave my mouth and I give her a cocky grin. She can’t deny that’s how she put it and I feel as if her admission is in my favor.