F*cking Frank

by Jen Luerssen

  Frank: Hey there beautiful, what are you up to?

  Mikey: Frankly, I’m quite busy.

  Frank: You’ve been dying to use that?

  Mikey: I have no idea what you are on about.

  Frank: You don’t seem busy

  Mikey: I’m a multitasker

  Frank: I know ;)

  I know, I totally hate myself for the wink emoji too, but it was warranted.

  Mikey: Are you flirting with me, Mr. Fontana?

  Frank: Absolutely not

  Mikey: Phew

  Frank: What are we wearing tomorrow?

  Mikey: What we wore at 10:57 July 4, 1985?

  Frank: Hmm, not sure I could pull that off as well as you.

  Mikey: Maybe we can just start the day that way. Bring black jeans, any band tee shirt you have and the shell tops to my place so you can get ready here tomorrow.

  Frank: I love that you assume A) that I have those items in my wardrobe (I do) and B) that I’m staying the night at your cabin. (I am)

  Mikey: I’m a chronic assumer—go ahead and make an out of character joke

  Frank: I am physically unable to do that.

  Mikey: I get it. See you at 8 at my place? I have a dinner meeting with Sebass.

  Frank: I’ll be there, gonna sleep until then.

  Joe wakes me about an hour later and we go to a local taqueria for a quick meal. He surprisingly does not grill me about Mikey. Instead, I hear a little about his brother Jack’s trip. He shows me the email he sent with a bunch of pictures from his stay in Germany. Jack is a cool kid, and at 17, pretty mature. Joe would be completely insufferable if it weren’t for the fact that he stepped up and raised Jack when his parents were killed. Trust me, I knew the guy in high school and I probably was one of the few who wasn’t surprised when Joe quit college to work and provide for his younger brother. He and I have always been friends, but he’s got an optimistic innocence to him that some may read as immaturity, and sure he’s also that sometimes, but he is a solid gold human. I’d imagine his inherited parenthood at a young age saved him from many embarrassing situations that he now seems to be getting himself into as Jack is more independent.

  I love him like a brother, but there are days I’d like to push him off a cliff and drive away. He’d most likely say the same about me. He and I separately are an acquired taste, but together are manageable. He’s my opposite in some ways, personality mostly. In other ways we are similar. We love music, are loyal to our family, and hate football.

  “Am I bunking alone again tonight?” he asks as we drive back to the winery.

  “Yes, you are,” I say and smile.

  “Ugh, there’s that weird thing on your face again. Mikey needs to lay off the bjs so I don’t have to look at your dopey smile.”

  “She doesn’t seem like the type to withhold anything so get used to it,” I say now smiling in a more obnoxious way to get a rise out of him.

  Fortunately, he doesn’t follow me into my room and I’m able to pack my clothes in a backpack, choosing a classic Ramone’s t-shirt. The chances of her having the same shirt are pretty good, it’s not rare or anything. I got it at a touristy place on Haight Street years ago but I’ve seen them everywhere.

  When I arrive at Mikey’s, she’s not there so I wait on the porch and admire the beautiful scenery. The sun has set and the sky is that deep blue that happens at twilight. Seawitch appears first, running to me with a friendly bark and Mikey follows her much more slowly as I observe her. She has an easy way about her, with a steady, determined step. Her hair is slicked back into a ponytail where the hair explodes wildly from her head. She changed her pants to a skirt of the same color and I laugh out loud at her unwillingness to venture from our matching outfit.

  She has a wide and genuine smile for me and when she steps up onto the porch I embrace her fully, linking a leg around hers. “I can’t get close enough to you,” I say and wonder if it’s too much.

  “Pretty sure you’ve been closer, let’s go inside and review,” she says, and we do.

  F*cking Out and About

  IT’S BEEN A WEEK SINCE I met Mikey and I feel off-kilter, like my life’s been blown open. It’s not familiar but the niggling feeling in the back of my mind is. That feeling that I’m out of my league with her, and that she doesn’t have the same feelings for me. I know, I’m one of those bastards that becomes a level five clinger or whatever when I like a woman. The fact that we live on the same property and see each other daily allows me to hide that tendency a little. We are bound to bump into each other every day and it doesn’t seem suspect.

  Mikey has given me zero reason to doubt that she likes me or that she wants anything more than just a casual fling for the summer. That’s the frustrating part, and since it’s only been a week I don’t want to have any kind of serious talk with her yet and scare her off. Yet, I’ve spent almost every night at her place and when we are together we are attached at the hip. The amount of ribbing we’ve gotten from the band and the Monkey staff has been a little much, to be honest. I can take plenty of shit, but it’s been unreal. Mikey thinks it’s funny and especially likes my response to it. I should ignore it, and often I do, but sometimes, especially when it’s from Joe, I lose my shit.

  I spent the night in my own cabin last night so Joe and I are currently sitting at the small table in the kitchen, drinking coffee and eating cereal. He is smiling at me and just being his usual jackwagon self.

  “I’ve never seen you like this,” he says, “usually if you’re all gaga over a girl, you keep it on the DL. Like, Lia had no idea you had the hots for her until you told her.”

  I glare at him and unfortunately, this does not dissuade him from continuing to talk.

  “Mikey is perfect for you, maybe a little too perfect. I can see you getting ready to fuck that up, don’t do it, Frank.”

  “Oh yes, Dr. Relationship, please tell me all the ways I’m fucking up my thing with Mikey?” I ask. Joe is literally the worst at keeping a girlfriend but I’ll humor him until I finish my coffee.

  “Well, calling it a relationship after like a week is the first thing.” I bristle a little because he’s right. “Expectations are key. Make sure she knows yours and find out what hers are. Probably try to find out hers first so you don’t look like an asshole when she just wants your dick, but you want to move in with her.”

  “Fine, there’s nothing defined but I thought it was early for the ‘talk’ so I’ve been happy with just being with her.” I take a big swig of coffee, trying to get out of this conversation as soon as I can.

  “Fair enough, but I see that gooey look in your eye, Frank, and I just want you to be happy.” Joe and I have been friends for a long time and he’s seen me fall for many a woman who then proceeded to brush me off or just flat out break my heart. I’m more sensitive than people think and Joe knows that about me, and for the most part, he never mentions it. That’s why we are still friends.

  “I know man, and I want that too, especially with Mikey, I really like her.”

  “I know you do, that’s why I’m courting danger even bringing it up. If I can stop you from killing it though, it’s worth a shot.” He looks down and I know he’s holding something back.

  I rub my hands over my face and give in. “Just say what you want to say, Joe. I’d rather you get it out now than bring it up during rehearsal.”

  His head comes up and he looks hurt. “I’ll give you and Mikey shit all day long for practically having sex in public but I’d never betray what I know you’re squicky about. You know that Lia and Drew already know you better than you think, they aren’t stupid. They also love you man, and I think you could let them in a little more and it wouldn’t kill you.”

  “I’m going to say something and you need to never mention it again,” I say seriously. “Promise.”

  “Pinky promise,” he says and holds out his dumb ass pinky.

  I smack it away and continue. “You are my closest and oldest friend and there is no one
I trust more than you. If you repeat that to anyone I’ll tell them about the time you shit your pants at Alicia’s.”

  “Dude,” he says with a look of horror.

  “I will take your advice, only because you see me and my fucked-up-ness and know how I will unintentionally get in my own way. That said, I have some advice for you too.”

  “Fucking Frank has advice? Let me get a pen,” he laughs and I kick him under the table.

  “Have your fun here this summer, but when you get home, try to find something real, someone to reel you in and put up with your shit. I’m worried what will happen in a year when Jack goes away to school. I can see you regressing and going through meaningless one-night stands because you didn’t have real ‘ho years in your 20s like everyone else. Let these few months in Sonoma be your ‘ho years, with lots of condoms, then let it go and find a real woman to settle down with.” Sometimes you have to parent Joe because he needs it and it doesn’t happen often for him. Also, it gives him a model for parenting and dealing with Jack.

  “Frank said ’ho years,’ twice,” he says and we throw our heads back laughing.

  * * *

  Sebastian takes advantage of Joe and I being free and puts us to work. We are doing some trimming of the vines after their first flowering, or so Sebass tells me. He gave Joe and I a quick lesson on pruning and I think we are doing okay. Thankfully I remembered my earbuds so I don’t have to listen to Joe prattle on about how he feels like Mr. Miyagi in Karate Kid pruning his bonsai.

  About an hour into our work, I am surprised with a cold sensation on my neck. I turn and it’s Mikey, holding a bottle of water against my probably sunburned neck.

  I pull out my earbuds and give her a smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she says and hands me the water and kisses my cheek.

  “Cheek kissing, eh?”

  “Well, first I have to see how much damage you’ve done to my vines before offering more.”

  “I make no promises, but I did try to do exactly what Sebastian showed us. You might be more concerned with Joe over there,” I say and point the asshole out. He’s making minuscule snips and whispering “wax on, wax off.”

  “I already did check him out and although he’s not getting very far, he is doing a great job.” Figures. “Let me inspect your wood.”

  “Now you’re talking,” I say as she leans down to inspect my pruning work. My hands automatically go to her hips and I playfully pull her back to where my dick is quickly standing at attention. She giggles and straightens.

  “Your wood looks and feels good, Frank.” Yeah, it does. “Now you get a proper kiss,” she says, throwing her arms around my neck and putting her soft lips on mine. Every time we kiss it’s like the first time. My stomach bottoms out, my heart beats faster, and I feel like I’m in the rightest place. God, I’m like a fucking teenager, kill me.

  I know I need to keep this casual and not push too hard. When I get even a tiny bit serious, I see her pull back. I can’t tell why, so of course, I think it’s about me. Most likely it is, I’m an intense person so I understand her need to keep it casual.

  Our kiss ends and I can’t resist trailing kisses down to her throat. I move my hand up to her neck and hold her there as I nibble behind her ear.

  “Hey Frank, that’s not the kind of pruning we are supposed to be doing,” Joe calls over and I give him a one finger salute while sticking my tongue in Mikey’s ear.

  She laughs and pushes me off, I’m not happy about that but I know she cares more about what people think than I do. Not much but I know she values her professional image and already struggles to be taken seriously. I squeeze my hand at her throat gently and let her back away.

  “Keep snipping you two,” she says. “Pick up the pace Daniel-san.” She points at Joe and winks back at me.

  F*cking Frank at a Loss

  DAYS GO BY AND MIKEY and I are getting along great. We wear the same outfits, drink whiskey and wine, and have an insane amount of mind-blowing sex. Mikey is down for anything and challenges me in bed and out of it. We argue, we eat, we fuck. It’s perfect. It’s perfect, except for Fucking Frank’s brain. My brain and stupid heart. The heart has already been given over and is officially Mikey’s. I don’t think she knows it, even if she does, she’s put it in a box to deal with later. I’m fine with that, as long as we eventually want the same things.

  “Frank, you are so inside your head right now your eyes aren’t even focused,” Lia says and I snap back and stare at her. She’s standing at the mic, her body twisted to mine. We’ve been practicing for a while. Our crowds have increased and people really like the request options so we are trying a few new songs to add. The goal is to have about 100 favorites ready to go with about 50 other songs to a point we could wing them if necessary. Over the years we’ve amassed about 70 or 80 songs to our repertoire, but this venture has forced us to expand.

  “Sorry, I went to my safe space when you forced me to play a fucking Nickleback song,” I say half joking. Some of the requests aren’t worth the time as far as I’m concerned. We’ve been going through some of the written requests from the jar Sebass set up for us.

  “We play what the public wants, Frank.” She rubs her face in frustration.

  “With no regard for personal standards? I mean, Christ, I put up with the fucking Beiber because I don’t know why. I know it’s a bandocracy or whatever you weirdos call it but I feel like we should all be able to veto a song now and then.” I look at my bandmates and they all look like I just dropped from space.

  “Despite this being the most Frank has said ever, I do agree with the occasional veto. We can have standards and I agree with a no Nickleback arrangement,” Andrew says. “Only if Frank agrees to never say shit like ‘bandocracy’ ever again.”

  “Joe?” Lia asks.

  “Fuck, Lia, even I have to draw the line at the boys from down under. If we play the occasional boy band or pop star song, it seems tongue in cheek or ironic. There is a line, though, and I think that line is definitely Nickleback.” Joe gives me a nod and I smile back at him. He knows why I’m distracted.

  “Fine, our line starts at Nickleback,” Lia says, “and it continues on past Creed and Evanescence. All in favor say, Jimmy Page.”

  “Jimmy Page.” We all call out and Andrew starts the opening beats to When the Levee Breaks, one of our favorite songs. It takes my mind off of everything and I owe him big for it.

  After a few more songs, we pack our things up. It’s a Monday so the winery is closed and it’s technically our day off. I text Mikey to see if she’s around.

  Frank: Hey sexy lady, you free for some lunch?

  Mikey: Sorry, there’s a possible fungus emergency happening out near the four corners.

  Frank: Oh no. Carry on, wine master.

  Mikey: I love it when you call me master.

  With no Mikey available, I decide to take a drive to get some lunch on my own. I drive into downtown Sonoma, grab a sandwich, and sit in the square. It’s a nice day and not very busy. My thoughts go to the past few weeks and I can’t help but feel a little anxious. Mikey and I have had a fast romance, and I can’t blame her for being skittish. Our lives are so weirdly similar that sometimes it feels like we were made for each other. That can be overwhelming when you are an independent person like Mikey and I both are. I’ve always been open to love though, and despite my parents and all of their bullshit, I’ve known what I’ve wanted since I was young. Call me a romantic, but I find it easy to fall in love. It’s the aftermath that I can’t get a hold of. There is, of course, the fact that all of the women I’ve fallen for have not had the same feelings for me. Some of them were hot for me, or liked me, but not one has felt serious about me.

  This thing with Mikey feels so different, like it’s delicate and needs to be handled with care. Unfortunately, I’m like a bull in a china shop when it comes to expressing my feelings in a timely and appropriate manner. Maybe since this feels different, I won’t fuck it up. Probably not.<
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  My phone pings as I finish up my sandwich and it’s Sebastian.

  Sebasshole: Where you at?

  Frank: Where grammar matters.

  Sebasshole: Fine. Where are you?

  Frank: In town.

  Sebasshole: Can you help me in about an hour?

  Frank: Sure. I’ll be back in about 15 anyway.

  Sebasshole: Thanks yo!

  Frank: Nope.

  Sebasshole: Fine. Thank you, fine sir.

  Frank: Better.

  I pull into the Monkey and head down the dusty little road to the cabin. Sebastian is sitting on the steps waiting.

  “I thought you needed me in an hour?” I ask as I get out of the car.

  “Yeah, but you said you were coming back, so . . .”

  “Fine, let me just piss first,” I say and pass him into the cabin.

  He and I take a cart out into the fields and it takes me a minute to realize he’s driving around a little aimlessly.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Just out scouting, looking for anything out of sorts,” he says a little weirdly.

  “Oh, like the fungus Mikey is dealing with?” I ask.

  He looks at me in surprise. “There’s a fungus?”

  “Um, maybe, I asked her to lunch earlier and she told me she was dealing with a possible fungus near the four corners.” He looks horrified and now I feel like I shouldn’t have mentioned it.

  The cart takes a sharp turn as Sebass directs it toward the little clearing I mentioned. We almost take a spill as he rounds one corner a little fast. “Oops!” he says like we didn’t almost die.

  We speed into the clearing and Sebass parks the cart with a sudden stop. When I get my heart back out of my stomach, I realize there are two other people in the clearing. Mikey and some guy. Seabass walks quickly to them and I struggle to catch up.

  “Fungus! What the hell, Mikey, why didn’t you tell me?” He is shouting and in her face, it’s pissing me off.

  She flicks a quick annoyed look to me, like I’m the one to blame for the fungus. I’m understanding now that maybe she wanted to wait to let Sebastian know about the crisis after the fact.