by Mandi Beck
By the time we reach the hotel I’ve listened to the whole album and text her once again, letting her know that I hear her. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.
ME: Little Do You Know
I hang up the phone and toss it onto the cushion next to me, sighing in relief. My dad is livid. He’s pissed with Deacon for the stunt he just pulled, and he’s upset with me for contributing to his volatile mood. When Gaetano De Rosa isn’t happy about something, you bet your ass everyone is going to hear about it.
Indie leans her head back, resting it against my leg. “You gonna be okay if I head out for a while, doll?” she asks from her spot on the floor. Indie knows that watching Deac act out the way he did is killing me. He’s a professional, and up until now, has always acted as such. I’m disappointed in him, but at the same time, I get it. I brought him to this. I brought him to this, brought us to this fucked up place where I switch between guilt, sadness, and anger. Same as him, I’m sure. All because I couldn’t fight him or my feelings for him anymore. I didn’t mention to Indie the text message that he sent while I was talking to my dad. I probably should have responded back with a little more than the song, but I’m just not ready to let him in even a little right now. He owns too much of me; I’m weak when it comes to him.
Sighing, I look down at my friend. “Of course I’ll be okay. Reggie is here with me.” I hate that they feel the need to babysit me, but I appreciate the hell out of it—more than they know!
I tuck my feet underneath me and curl up in the corner of the couch looking over at Reggie, who has been on the phone since the fight started. Touching base with the guys I’m assuming. “You’re not going anywhere are you, Reg?” I ask him, hoping that he’s staying here again.
“I’m not going anywhere—you’re not that lucky,” he tells me in his gruff yet gentle tone that he only uses with me.
I smile at him and turn back to Indie. “See, I’m good. Go have a good time.” My world might be crumbling down around me, but I don’t want her to be a casualty of the devastation.
Indie pops up from the carpet and gives me a kiss on the cheek before she heads for the door. “I’ll catch you two crazy kids later,” she calls out. Poking her head back in, “If things go the way that I’m hoping, it’ll be a late night, so don’t wait up. And if you hear screaming, don’t come to the rescue unless you want to join in,” she says with a wink and closes the door behind her.
Reggie looks over at me and I just shrug, and we both start laughing. “You know that bitch is crazy, right?” he asks good-naturedly
“Yeah, I know she is. I love her anyway though.”
I grab the remote and start flipping channels before the highlights from the fight start playing. I don’t want to hear them analyze what has gotten into Deacon. I’m just about to give up when I’m paralyzed by the picture filling every bit of the sixty-inch TV hanging on the wall. The blood in my veins turns icy as I stare into the brown eyes of the man I had thought myself in love with. As my body involuntarily starts, I sit trembling and listen to them talk about things I can’t wrap my mind around. “District Attorney Andrew McAvoy wanted for questioning in connection,” my eyes lose focus of the man on the screen, “to an ongoing investigation involving his fiancée, Francesca De Rosa…hasn’t been seen…high profile federal case.” Heart racing, ears buzzing, I can feel a cold trickle of sweat making its way down my spine. I only catch bits and pieces as I struggle to hold myself together. “Ponzi scheme…McAvoy uncovered over three hundred million dollars…possible human trafficking…drug cartel…his whereabouts…paramount to the conviction of…”
The TV flicks off and Reggie comes into view, putting his hands gently on my shoulders to stop my motion. Without realizing it, I had begun rocking back and forth, my arms wrapped tightly around my body, but not tight enough to stop the quivering that started from the inside and worked its way out.
“Hey now, Frankie, I’m here, girl. You’re okay,” Reggie says softly, squeezing my shoulders, comforting me and bringing me back from yet another attack. Another attack where all I want is to pull at my hair, yank at the memories just out of my reach, grab answers, and run with them. And Deacon. I want Deacon. Swallowing back a sob, I fight to still my swaying.
“There she is. Where did you go, Frankie?” he asks, rubbing his hands briskly up and down my arms as if to ward off a chill.
“I don—I…did you see that?” I question.
Nodding solemnly, “Yeah. Yeah, I saw. Did you know anything about the case that he was working on?” Reggie asks. I shake my head no, rubbing my hands over my face and into my hair, tugging tightly at my scalp, trying to get my thoughts from being so jumbled. “No. We never spoke about his cases. He said that it was a breach of client-attorney privilege.”
“Yeah, well, he always was an uptight prick,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, though it’s the truth. I’d settled for Andrew as an adult just as I had for Cristiano when I was younger.
Reggie stands and paces over to the recliner he’d been sitting in when his phone starts to ring. Silencing it, he turns back to me. “How often are you having these attacks, Frankie?”
Raising my eyes to his, I start to deny it, but see the look of determination on his face and think better of it. “Since the beginning,” barely a whisper. “I haven’t had a bad one in a while though,” I tell him.
“Does Deacon know?” Reggie asks quietly, arms folded over his chest.
“I never told him that I was having them regularly. He knows of only one. I didn’t have many when we were together and if I did he was asleep and I’d had a nightmare or whatever.” My voice trails off.
“Don’t you think he deserves to know? Don’t you think you owe it to yourself? You’re obviously having problems dealing with what you went through and I know for a fact he’s always been your anchor, just as you’ve always been his.”
All I can do is stare blankly at him, because I know he’s right, but if I admit it, I’ll cry. I’ll curl up in a ball and cry until I can’t cry anymore.
“He can’t know right now, Reggie. He can’t. There’s too much at stake for him and he’s already acting reckless.” Determined to get my way with him in this, I cross my arms defiantly. My stance matching his own.
“He’s half out of his mind because you’re not at his side, Frankie.” It’s the first time Reggie has ever raised his voice at me. “You know how he is, and I hate to break it to ya, but it’s only gonna get worse.” What he says is true. I know it is but it doesn’t change anything. I still love him, but I’m still scared and he still messed around with Veronica. All because he thought I was with Cristiano, when all I wanted, all I needed, was him—that night and now.
It’s always going to be him. Even when it’s not.
Once back home in Chicago, shit goes downhill fast. I got my ass handed to me by my pop the whole flight, and then Guy the moment we landed at Midway the night of the fight. Derek Elliott came by personally to pay me a visit at the gym, reaming my ass and letting me know none too nicely that this time the fine for me storming out of the cage in a show of poor sportsmanship is fifty grand, next time it would be double, and if I’m dumb enough to do it again, there would be a disciplinary hearing. Just what I fucking need. Added to that shit, Veronica’s ass keeps popping up wherever I am, and twice now the Princess has seen her hovering. Short of knocking a chick out, I’m not even sure what to do about it. My dad will not kick her out when she shows up at the gym, because she hasn’t done anything to merit it, so I just ignore her. I have not said one single fucking word to her since the other day she popped up at my house and couldn’t get through the gate and I had a few choice words for her.
Things are still a little strained between Sonny and I, but that’s probably because he’s still sporting some discoloration from the fading bruise on his jaw and I still don’t give a fuck. Seeing him come toward me now as I hang up the chains I was using for my workout, I’m a little surprised. I lift my chin in gree
ting.
“What’s up, brother?” I ask as warmly as I possibly can when I feel anything but. It’s not even him that I’m angry with, but for whatever reason he’s getting the brunt of it. Maybe it’s because he was right about shit going down the way it did with Veronica telling Frankie.
“You might want to hide out somewhere—Veronica just showed up and she brought a friend,” he says with the same chilly note, looking at me expectantly, waiting for the words to click.
“Fuck. Sylvia?” I ask on a frustrated groan.
“Yep, and Frankie is here teaching classes all day.” Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his track pants, he spreads his feet, planting them firmly in front of me, eyes narrowed. “Why the hell does it seem like every time I turn around I see her?”
“Because you fucking do, Sonny!” I shout angrily. “Everywhere I fucking go, there she is. Frankie has already seen her here a couple times. I—”
I’m interrupted by the sound of raised voices coming from the front of the gym. Turning to look that way, I see the Princess in her favorite Frankie’s Place shirt, the ripped out collar making it hang off of her shoulders, and a pair of black leggings stopping at her calves showing off the sculpted muscles of her incredible legs with the aid of her hot as fuck black heels. The ones with the bright pink soles that match the lettering on her shirt. Taking in the scene, I see that not only is Frankie there, but Cristiano is with her, and they’re having words with none other than Veronica and her skanky fucking friend. I’m not sure what has me more pissed off: the girls here causing a fucking ruckus or the fact that Frankie and Flashdance are standing so close to each other.
I ignore Sonny cursing under his breath next to me and stride toward the group. I step in between Frankie and the two girls, all of whom are pointing fingers and hurling insults. I don’t spare him more than a glance. Just enough to see he’s aggravated, though I think it has more to do with me swooping in than the little catfight about to go down.
“What in the fuck is going on here?” I bark at Veronica and Sylvia.
As calmly as I can, I look back over my shoulder and ask softly, “You okay, Frankie?” my eyes scanning her face and body to make sure, although I know they didn’t touch her.
Nodding, she glares around me at our unwanted visitors. So close that she’s nearly pressed into me, the heat radiating off of her and coasting over the bare skin of my back sending little electric shocks licking at me, through me, making the ink that covers it feel alive. I don’t have time to revel in having her this close before I feel a hand running up my chest. I whip my head back around, swatting it away as I do.
“Oh, come on, D, I brought your favorite sex toy,” Veronica purrs as she curls her fingers around Sylvia’s, tugging her closer into her side and batting her fake eyelashes at me.
Snorting indelicately behind me, Frankie tenses. Then Rico Suave goes and opens his big fucking mouth and I feel the tenuous hold I’ve had on my temper over the last couple of days being tested to its limit.
“Ahhhh, I see. You are here to toy with Francesca, to make her jealous, sí? Did you not know that they broke up? He is free to do to you what he wants,” he says in his accented English with a shit-eating grin that is about to get him hurt.
From somewhere to my left, I hear Sonny warn gruffly.
“Be very, very careful, Cristiano. My brother is operating on a shorter fuse than usual. He laid me out; he won’t hesitate to lay your ass out too.”
“I only speak the truth, amigo, she is no longer his concern and therefore they are both free to do whatever and whoever they want.” Shrugging his shoulders, he looks back at the vultures waiting for the chance to swoop in.
I can feel the tension rolling off of Frankie still safely behind me.
He has his mouth open to speak again when I cut him off.
“Are you insinuating that you’re fucking my girl?” I growl, turning fully now, forgetting all about the two pains in my ass watching in rapt fascination at the fight unfolding. Facing him, my back is still to Frankie, which is good, because God help this motherfucker if she gets hurt when I snap because of his mouth. Not if, when.
“Is that what you’re saying? That the Princess jumped from my bed to yours?” I snarl vehemently, shifting on my feet, ready to put him down. “You better be real fucking careful how you answer that question. Either way, it isn’t going to end well for you. I can guaran-fucking-tee it.” I take a step closer to him, but stop when I feel Frankie’s trembling hand land briefly in the center of my back. The soft touch sears my skin and makes me crave more before she snatches it away.
“Deacon, please,” she implores. “Cristiano, that’s enough,” Frankie says firmly, trying to skirt around me but unable to get past the arm I hold out to stop her.
“It is okay, mi amor, he won’t hurt me here in front of everybody. Plus, he better get used to you being with other men. He lost his chance—”
Wrong answer, motherfucker is the last thought I have before I snatch him up quick by his throat and slam his ass to the ground. Kneeling next to him as he tries to catch his breath, I bring my face within an inch of his. I can feel Sonny pulling back on my arm, not to drag me away but to ground me.
“Hear this, motherfucker, you ever think of telling me about what I lost or what I need to get used to and I’ll end your shit, you feel me? Do you honestly think I care where the fuck I am or who may be around?” I laugh sardonically at his stupidity. “I’ll tell you what’s never gonna change no matter how badly you want it to. I’m always gonna be here, wherever she is, in her life. She’ll always be mine, even when she doesn’t want to be.” Smirking at his laid out form, I let my brother pull me back to a standing position.
Slowly Cristiano struggles to rise up on his elbows and then hisses, “You are no better than that animal that attacked her, you know that? You are violent and a danger to her. The only difference is you’ll kill her when he could not.”
Frankie lets loose a broken sob bringing my attention back to her. Covering her mouth with her hand, the bracelet dangling from her wrist, I focus on the charms against her soft skin as I concentrate on not killing Cristiano.
Raising my eyes to meet her watery gaze, I say in a voice layered in threats, “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m worse than he is.” My voice shakes from the rage I feel at his accusation. “I love her enough to kill for her. I’m trained to hurt people, my hands and body weapons. I wouldn’t think twice about killing someone with them to protect Frankie. Wouldn’t matter to me if I went to prison for it either.” I meet his glare, mine full of hate before turning my attention back to the Princess. “That makes me more dangerous than him on every level. Not to her though, never to her,” I say for her benefit, regardless that she knows I would die before laying hands on her. My lips kicked up in a sad smile, my voice gravelly with too much emotion, “Even when she won’t fight for us, I’ll go to war for her.”
With my words hovering in the air around us, I reach out, touch her face with just the tips of my fingers, running them from the softness of her cheek over her trembling lips before stalking out, leaving them staring after me.
Stopping at the front desk, I grab a shirt out of the display case and pull it over my head. Pointing in the direction I just came from, I tell Julia, our receptionist, that Veronica and Sylvia are banned from the gym indefinitely. To mail them refunds if they’ve already paid and to deactivate their cards. I can’t do shit about seeing them on the EWF circuit, but I damn well can stop them from coming in here and fucking with Frankie and making my life any more miserable. I gesture to Trent and Bo, who have been watching the whole thing but know better than to step in, that I’m ready and the three of us head out into the brutally cold night. I don’t give a fuck how clean I’m supposed to stay during my training—I’m getting lit tonight and nobody’s going to stop me. I’ve earned that shit by not doing the damage to Flashdance that I really wanted to.
Mav throws a bottle cap at me as he sits on t
he island watching me cook.
“You know you have to get your ass back to the gym, right? We can’t keep working out here. You need sparring partners; I’m done letting you throw punches at me in your basement, dude.”
Snorting, I glance at him over my shoulder.
“You make it sound like we’re in a dungeon. I have the same setup down there that we do at the gym, Mav.” Shaking my head, I turn back to the stove and the rib eye steaks I have on the grill pan.
“Deac, it’s been weeks. You can’t avoid her forever and you have a pretty important fucking fight coming up.”
He’s right. I know he is, but I just haven’t been able to go there yet. I don’t want to see her with him, and at least at home I can be as mad as I want and I’m not in any danger of going to jail for killing entitled assholes. I have my reasons; they’re just gonna have to do shit my way. I need back in the gym though. If not to train, then to know that she’s close by. My mind is so all over the place. One minute I don’t want to be anywhere near the gym because she’s there and he might be too, the next minute I’m jonesin’ to be there, just to be near her. Love hurts. It hurts like a fucking kick to the balls.
I face my brother and lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. Looking around, I’m reminded of the first night Frankie and I had sex, all of the words that were said and the wicked things we did right here in the kitchen. I bring my focus back to Mav.
“You’re right, bro.” Nodding in agreement.
“Right about what?” Sonny asks as he comes in carrying the six-pack that he went out to get.
Grabbing one out for himself and another for Mav, he stows the rest in the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water for me. My brothers and pop are being extra vigilant after finding me passed out drunk and not answering my phone for nearly two days after my little altercation with Cristiano.