Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter One Hundred

Frankie struggled to sit up, pushing himself against the pillows until he leaned back against the headboard. He coughed and choked on another trickle of blood that escaped his mouth and tumbled over his chin. "What's goin' on?" he asked weakly while he frowned and blinked his eyes at Luke, catching sight of his father's worried face.

Luke immediately grabbed Frankie by the arm and pulled him from the bed, trying to help him to stand by supporting the boy's full weight as the he kept sinking toward the floor like a folding accordion, pulled back up and then folding down again. "You're bleeding," Luke said tersely as he led him to the bathroom. "I want to wash off your face so we can see where it's coming from. It looks like you've bled periodically throughout the night by the looks of your pillow. You don’t remember it?"

Frankie shook his head and sat limply on the toilet seat with his head held down and frequent red drips of blood dripping from his face and spotting the tiled floor in front of him. Luke ran the water full force in the basin while he searched the underneath cabinet for a washcloth or small towel. When Luke quickly grabbed Frankie's forearm to prevent him from slipping to the floor, he noticed that the boy's pale skin was dotted with an angry red rash, one more sign of the kid's ITP going haywire.

Frankie scrunched his face against Luke's aggressive scrubbing and tried to push him away. "Ow," he complained.

"You're well enough to protest," Luke said tightly as he kept wiping at the boy's cheeks and chin. He held his comments when he noticed the blood seeping from Frankie's mouth and nose both and felt a sharp jab of worry in his gut. "I'm sorry. I should have questioned you further when you mentioned feeling ill last night. I just figured it was withdrawal from the alcohol."

"I didn' know neither," Frankie responded thickly.

"I'm going to call your doctor," Luke said hurriedly as he sat Frankie down on the tiled floor and leaned him against the tub in a protective position so he wouldn’t fall. "We'll get dressed and go right to the hospital. I don't think you need an ambulance. You're not bleeding severely enough for that."

"'Kay," Frankie mumbled as he closed his eyes and grimaced. "Stomach hurts."

"Can I leave you for a minute to make a phone call?" Luke questioned. "I'll wake Alexis, and she can stay with you."

Frankie nodded wordlessly, smearing blood across the tub with the up and down motion of his face leaning against it.  He felt surrounded by the cold surfaces of the bathroom and longed to lie down to cool his feverish skin. Pulling forward with his hands on the tile, crawling along, he left numerous bloody handprints tracking to the left and right of him. "Crap," he panted to himself. "Why me?" Pausing in the middle of the bathroom floor, he felt his stomach contract ominously and was filled with shooting nausea that made his head swim. Soon, the floor flooded with the blood that he vomited profusely. When he opened his eyes, Frankie scurried backwards away from the field of red, clawing at the tub in order to escape a scene that was eerily familiar to him. "Let me out!" he cried hoarsely, smacking his palms rapidly. "Lemmeoutlemmeoutlemmeout!" his voice trailed off hopelessly. By the time Alexis raced into the room, he was huddled in a corner, arms wrapped protectively around his midriff, staring at the few remaining white tiles untainted with blood and shivering with bad memories of the Smith mansion's secrets.

~*~*~*~

"Oh. My. God." Luke said when he returned to the bathroom and freaked at the sight of a bloodbath coating the surfaces of the room. "He was okay a minute ago."

Alexis was kneeling on the floor, holding Frankie close and rocking him. "He's very upset," she said tensely. "He's out of it." Her frightened brown eyes took in the liberal splatters surrounding her and streaking her robe. "It's like that cubbyhole at Smith estate in Atlantic City," she choked out. "It's giving me the creeps."

"I called Dr. Hill. He'll meet us at the hospital," Luke informed her. "You stay home with Sly. I pulled the Cadillac around to the front of the house, and the bodyguard has his car behind us. I don't think we have time to clean him up. He'll have to go in the way he is." Luke accepted his son, pulling him from Alexis' arms. "Thanks, darlin'," he whispered to her, his intense, blue eyes communicating the full extent of his emotions more fully than his words. Frankie slumped against Luke's chest as he was dragged from the room, his eyes vacant and the heels of his bare feet scraping along the slick floor.

~*~*~*~

Frankie's arm flung out, hitting with a loud smack the elaborate dashboard of Luke's antique Cadillac convertible. "Wheremi?" he grunted out without opening his eyes. Minutes earlier, Luke had dressed him in a black sweatsuit and carried him out to the car, placing the boy in the front seat with towels surrounding his face and covering his lap plus one tucked under his chin like a bib. Frankie's face was leaned away from Luke and rested on the window, so Luke couldn't catch his son's exact words.

"You're back with us," Luke said neutrally as he concentrated on driving swiftly and efficiently to the hospital.

"Wassat?" Frankie muttered at the feel of towels everywhere he moved. His eyes opened, and he squinted down at the red stains on the towels. "Oh," he said.

"We'll be at the hospital in a minute," Luke explained. "Dr. Hill is expecting us. How are you doing?"

"I wanna go home," Frankie answered petulantly, his fingers pulling at the door handle while Luke drove the car at forty miles per hour. He turned in his seat, prepared to step out of the moving car.

"STOP!" Luke shouted in panic as he pulled his son away from the half ajar door and held tight to the back of his sweatsuit. His frantic eyes moved back and forth from the road to his struggling son, and he quickly took his foot off of the gas pedal, slowing eventually to a stop on the side of the road. "Get back in here," he said with disbelief as the car idled in park. "What are you doing?!"

"Not goin'. I wanna go home," Frankie sputtered out, his brows knit together in a cross expression.

"Why couldn't you have spaced out until we reached the hospital?" Luke wondered aloud. He shook Frankie to gain his full attention. "You," he said, pointing his index finger into the boy's chest, "are going to sit tight and not give me any lip."

"Fuck," was Frankie's response. "Mmm...tired."

"That's because you're bleeding like a stuck pig," Luke stated. "Do you promise not to open that door again, or shall I hogtie you and throw you into the trunk? Either way, you're going to the hospital. I'm not giving you a choice."

"Lea...me alone."

"I know you're upset," Luke tried to reason with his son. "But, we'll get you patched up. It'll work out fine."

"Mama."

"I'll call her when we arrive, okay?"

"'Kay," Frankie agreed.

"No monkey business?"

"No."

Luke drove more carefully and slowly the remainder of the trip and breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled into the emergency parking lot and turned off the car, racing around the back to pull the wheelchair out of the trunk. Frankie's head fell forward with a jerk from the force of the blood that he vomited all over the towel covering his lap, and his body continued the forward movement until his forehead knocked hard on the dashboard.

~*~*~*~

Luke washed the blood from his hands, using a liberal amount of soap to clean them off. "Where are you, Cookie?" he asked aloud, referring to the puppet that he'd given Frankie during his first hospital stay. "I'd feel better if you were here to joke around with me." He crumpled up a paper towel and pretended it was Cookie himself.

"Don't like dat shampoo bizness," the phantom cookie monster explained.

Luke shook his head to reprimand the wayward puppet wannabe. "I gave you a very nice shampoo. Your hair looked bluer and fluffier than ever. I should become a hairdresser, that's what."

Luke twisted his hand to show Cookie's displeasure. "No way, no how, Mister Luke. You're too groovy for that."

Luke flinched when he heard a toilet flush behind him and the creak of a door opening. A large, burly man eyed him curiously and chose the sink furthest away from the odd man talking to a wad of paper towel, a man who confessed to desiring a career in the beauty business. Luke watched him exit the door with a slam, and he secretively smiled as he made the paper towel hop on the counter. "Have a nice daaaay," he growled.

~*~*~*~

"How is he?" Luke asked in a rush when he saw Dr. Hill exit the ER exam room.

"He's suffering acute, spontaneous bleeding," the doctor stated.

"Well, yeah," Luke prompted with an annoyed motion of his hand. "That's obvious. What's it mean?"

"It means that his platelet count is extremely low - in the 10,000 range. His immune system is attacking his blood again. I spoke to his hematologist for treatment recommendations. We're going to have to admit him for several days, and he's not too happy about it."

Luke rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "No doubt. He just got out of the hospital and was looking forward to spending time at home. But I still don't understand why or how he's bleeding. Does he need surgery?"

"No. He hasn't suffered any new trauma. The tissues in his nose and throat were probably injured slightly by the tubes when he was on life support in Atlantic City. Normally, they'd heal by themselves, and he wouldn't even notice, but the low platelet count has turned a minor bleed into a major one. His capillaries are collapsing and blood is flowing into his skin - that accounts for the rash."

"He keeps coughing and throwing up blood," Luke protested. "Isn't that serious?"

"It can be if he continues to hemorrhage. He's lost a unit or more of blood and swallowed most of it; that's why his stomach is irritated. I ordered a CT scan of his chest to check those injuries, and he's doing fine. The wounds are still healing, but the low platelets are causing more bleeding there as well. He's probably been bleeding internally for a day or two. What we can do for him now is suppress his immune system so that his blood can recover. He'll need to be on an IV for two days while we monitor him in the hospital. That's what's upsetting him. He says he has a date he can't miss." Dr. Hill gave Luke an amused look, and the two men laughed.

"Man, it's hell being fifteen," Luke commented wryly

"The priorities are different," Dr. Hill agreed with a grin. He didn't mention to Luke that Frankie had requested an STD panel when his blood samples were drawn, explaining the situation with Maxie and demanding a piece of paper to prove he wasn't infected.

"He'd rather bleed to death than miss a cuddle with Miss Wonderful."

"I’m impressed with his progress, though. I wanted to compliment you. He seems to be much less impulsive and more responsible. When I first met him, I seriously doubted his ability to make meaningful emotional attachments, but he's doing well under your care."

"He has a large, extended family," Luke said, not wanting to take full credit for Frankie's improvement. "He's very close to his aunts and stepparents, too."

"Oh," Dr. Hill said with his hand in the air. "That reminds me. Please thank your wife for the very timely information that she emailed me. I have the spreadsheet with all of Frankie's medications, and it helped immensely, cutting down on the time it would have taken to leaf through a hodgepodge of data. Part of the reason the boy is hemorrhaging is a drug that was prescribed recently, one that has an anticoagulant effect. I've discontinued that drug and switched him to one that's more in line with his medical conditions."

"I was afraid of that," Luke said guiltily. "And here I handed him his pills to take last night. I feel terrible."

"There's no way you can be expected to perfectly understand drug synergies," Dr. Hill replied. "You did very well in insisting he have one physician act as a coordinator for his care."

"If he needs a transfusion, I'd rather be the one who donates," Luke sighed with his arm extended out as an offer.

Dr. Hill clapped him on the back and led him down the hallway. "I'll take you up on your offer. We'd be happy to have your blood."

~*~*~*~

"Your mother is on her way," Luke said as he entered the ER exam room with his right hand held over the sore spot inside his left elbow. "I just gave the vampires a ton of blood so you won't have to accept blood from strangers."

Frankie was lying on his back in a pair of blue scrubs that were several sizes too large, with a blanket draped over him, holding an ice pack to his nose. He coughed occasionally and leaned over a plastic bowl to spit out blood. "Thanks," he said breathlessly. He lowered the ice pack to squint at his father and then covered his face with it again.

"Still bleeding?"

"Yeah. Not as bad, though, with the ice. Man, I feel sick. I'm not supposed to swallow da blood no more. Dat's what dey said. Spit it out instead."

"They're setting up a room for you," Luke said casually, hoping that Frankie wouldn't overreact to the news.

"I don' wanna be here!" Frankie protested heatedly. "I wanna be home. Why can't I ever be home? It's like a conspiracy or somethin'."

"It's only for two days. They'll go by quickly. You can watch TV or talk on the phone, and you'll have tons of visitors. Laura is bringing Lulu with her this morning, and Stefan will be down when he finishes his morning's meetings."

Frankie lowered the ice pack and scowled. "I don't want da baby to see me like dis," he complained. "She'll be scared."

Luke looked sympathetically at his son who was terribly ill yet still protective of his sister's welfare. "She's a tiny baby," he explained in a soft voice as he patted his son's arm for reassurance. "She won't notice or understand if you're bleeding. All she'll know is that her big brother is happy to see her."

"Okay," Frankie agreed reluctantly. "Can I still go to da island next week?"

"Probably. You'll need the doctor's okay, but he'll be along for the trip. Are you looking forward to going?"

"Yeah. I'll miss Maxie, but I really wanna see where Stefan grew up. Plus, I'm tired of bein' inside all da time."

"Lots of sun and surf and sand there," Luke agreed.

"Stefan's gonna help me plan," Frankie confided. "I suppose we'll be inside for dat."

Frankie didn't see Luke's small smile, which was one step away from a hurt expression. He wished he could be everything to his son, the young man who was his namesake, but as he'd mentioned to Dr. Hill moments earlier, it was working out well for Frankie to have many resources in his life. Besides, he'd already given Stefan his vision for Frankie's future and trusted that he'd convey those ideas. "Stefan has an analytical bent," Luke conceded. "He'll be a fine resource."

"What are you and Alexis gonna do when we're gone?" Frankie wondered.

"We'll take a honeymoon. We're long overdue," Luke said without elaborating.

"Ahhh," Frankie stated with raised eyebrows and knowing eyes. Dey're gonna have a Spencer boff-o-rama.

~*~*~*~

The doctor's words kept running through Laura's mind as she tried in vain to comfort her son. Patients with active bleeding are treated with high-dose IV immunoglobulin and steroids. She placed a fresh cold washcloth over his hot forehead and looked conflicted when Lulu began twisting around and crying in her stroller.

"I'm going to hold the baby for a moment," she said quietly as she bent over to pick up the fussy infant, placing Lulu on her lap and bouncing her lightly.

Frankie lay silently and carefully on his side, his arm pierced with multiple sites for the necessary IV's. They'd avoided using his injured arm to allow the throbbing wound to heal, and he held that away from him as well. He raised his head with half closed eyes for a second to peer at Lulu and then gave up and rested his head back onto the pillow. The drugs were giving him a pounding headache and fever, and he wasn't sure if he were nauseous from the blood that he couldn't keep from swallowing or the medications.  "How's da baby?" he panted out miserably, unable to hide the pain that he felt in every cell of his body.

"She was lonely," Laura said softly, kissing Lulu's forehead and smoothing her hair. "She calmed down as soon as I picked her up."

"Good."

"Do you want to hold her for a moment?"

"Nooo," Frankie groaned. "Everything hurts. I don't wanna move." He took in a shaky breath and coughed. "Am I dyin' again?" he asked with such innocence and clarity that it made Laura's heart ache.

"No, honey," Laura reassured him. "Your body is reacting to the drugs. I think you'll feel better in a few hours. They'll give you a platelet transfusion after the first round of drugs works through your system. That should make the bleeding stop."

"Den why do I gotta stay here for two days?"

"That's how long it takes to administer them. They have to give the drugs to you over that period of time. Plus, they want to monitor you to make sure you don’t have a negative reaction."

"Like dis?" Frankie sighed, lifting his IV connected arm with a futile motion to indicate his incapacity.

"I'm sorry you're feeling so bad," Laura said in a pained voice. She reached out to turn over the cold cloth on his forehead and stroked the side of his cheek. "I wish I could have been there for you when this started up."

"I'm da one who owes you an apology," Frankie mumbled. "I shouldn't have called you names back at Ivy Hills. I don't exactly remember doin' it, but it's my responsibility," he said, borrowing Stefan's words to describe the situation. "I know I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry." Frankie turned over onto his back and blinked tiredly at his mother. "I love you, Mama. I don't ever wanna make you feel bad."

Laura's eyes moistened and she sniffed back her tears with a smile. "I know, baby," she said tearfully as she smoothed out Lulu's dress with a nervous gesture and placed her back into the stroller. "I accept your apology. You're my son, and I love you no matter what."

Frankie held out his arms to ask for a hug, and she bent forward, enfolding him carefully into her arms and holding him close. Frankie breathed out a sigh of relief, blinking away a few tears of his own, and he relaxed for the first time in hours, feeling safe and warm in his mother's care.

"Is it ever gonna get better?" Frankie asked with a hint of fear in his eyes. "I keep waitin' for what's gonna happen next and wonderin' when I'll die - if it'll be today or tomorrow." He turned his head to gaze beyond his mother toward the doorway, where a bodyguard was standing, as large and immovable as a well-rooted tree. "I need a gun. Can you bring me a gun?"

Laura paused to correctly decipher her son's true concerns instead of immediately overreacting to his request for a gun. "It's been difficult," she conceded. "You've experienced a lot of changes in the last few months. Yes, there's been danger, but it's been dealt with. Now that the business issues are over, you're much safer now than you ever were with Frank Smith. And, your life is fuller. You have a large family and friends, people who care about you. Isn't that better - and safer?"

"Yeah," Frankie replied. "It is. I never knew from day to day if I was gonna live or die in da mansion. Nobody cared about me. Except for Johnny, people either wanted to stab me in da back or were afraid of me, dat I'd stab 'em first." Frankie sighed deeply. "I wanted so bad to get outta dere, so maybe I should stop complaining now dat I’m out, huh?"

"It helps to focus on the positive," Laura agreed. "You have a lot to look forward to in your life. You're one of the wealthiest young men in the country and with an empire to run."

Frankie's lips turned up with satisfaction. "Dat's right."

"Honey, you're young and impatient, but give yourself time to heal. It doesn't happen overnight."

"Can't pay nobody to speed it ahead?" Frankie joked.

"Nope. You have to relax and stay in one place."

"Dat'd be a miracle."

"You'll do it. I'm hoping that you'll get rid of some of that stress on the island."

Frankie closed his eyes and imagined himself on a sandy beach, walking along the shore with the waves lapping over his feet. "Sounds good. Being inside all da time sucks. But, is Nikolas gonna be upset with me along?"

Laura shrugged. "He's been jealous of you, but give him time. He's coming around."

"It's down to dat time thing again, huh?"

"And you've been jealous of Nikolas, too," Laura pointed out. "How's that coming along?"

Frankie's face stiffened at his first impulse, which was to deny all, but he chose to laugh instead. "Yeah, so what? He's da oldest son, and he's lived with you forever. I'll get over it - in time."

"Nikolas didn’t have me for the first four years of his life," Laura reminded Frankie. "And, he knew that you lived with me when you were an infant. I used to send him photos of us, when we were a family with Luke."

"Ouch," Frankie responded.

"Yes, I didn't realize the effect that had. Your mother isn't too smart sometimes."

"Nah," Frankie said as he took her hand. "You're plenty smart."

"I'm lucky to have so many wonderful people in my life," Laura admitted as she picked up Lulu again. "Can I place Lulu beside you?"

"Sure," Frankie agreed, moving his arm to make a niche for her to snuggle into. Lulu's head rested beside Frankie's chest, and her eyelids fluttered shut contentedly with the regular sound of his heart beating. "She's growin'," Frankie observed. "And she's got more black hair if dat's possible. Do you think her eyes will stay blue?"

"That's my guess. They're the same color as yours were at that age."

Frankie met his mother's eyes and gave her a half smile. "I never forgot you," he said emotionally. "I kept lookin' for you for years, following people around asking if dey were my mama."

"I know," Laura said in a teary voice. "Close your eyes and try to sleep. I'll watch over both of you."

~*~*~*~

"He's sound asleep," Laura commented when she ran into Luke as she exited Frankie's room. Luke jumped back with the accidental push of Lulu's stroller over his size thirteen shoe. "Oops! Sorry."

"Good thing she's a lightweight," Luke joked. "How's he doing?"

"He was dreadfully ill for about an hour or so, but he's calmed down now. It's been hard on him. He hates being in the hospital and hooked up to an IV. Can't say as I blame him." Laura chuckled and looked bemused at the object in Luke's hand.

Luke looked at the toy and said, "Oh. I ran home to retrieve him. Frankie enjoyed having Cookie nearby the last time he was here. I found him stuffed in a desk drawer, poor guy. I had to fluff his blue beard to make him happy again."

"You're such a kid," Laura teased him. "Would you watch Lulu for me for just a minute? I've been with Frankie so long I have to use the restroom."

"I'd love to watch my niece," Luke exclaimed with dancing eyes.

Laura tittered with laughter as she placed the infant girl in Luke's arms. "We have the most complex family structure of anyone, I swear. Did you ever think we'd be related again?"

"Quite frankly, no," Luke deadpanned. "But I love having a new baby around."

Laura raised her eyebrows. "When are you going to produce one your own? Every newlywed has to put up with at least one buttinski who wants to know when they're going to have children."

Luke rolled his eyes and nodded in the direction of Frankie's room. "And you think he isn't enough to keep us on our toes?" Luke kissed and snuggled against Lulu's cheek. "I'll enjoy his baby sister instead. Besides, I'm much too old to reproduce."

Laura waved him off humorously and walked down the hall, reflecting that life had a funny way of working out in the end. She could actually talk to Luke for a few moments now without wanting to slap him silly.

~*~*~*~

Luke must have been Lulu's first infatuation because she smiled and cooed at each action he took - if Cookie Monster tapped her cheek, she sighed to encourage a repeat motion; if Luke bugged his eyes at her, she grasped his nose or played with his goatee; if  he wagged his eyebrows, she blew him a kiss. He looked deep into her wide eyes and fancied he saw glimpses of Frankie in her face, the infant Frankie that he'd loved and lost so many years ago.   "Pretty girl," he said repeatedly, not hearing Laura walk up behind him and tap him on the shoulder.

"You're having too much fun," she teased him. "You make a great dad."

Luke's face softened at the compliment.  "Thanks. That's a nice thing to say. I enjoy kids. I missed having them for the twelve years I lived by myself, before Sly came to live with me."

"Sounds lonely."

"It was," Luke conceded. "I suppose that's the way I wanted it back then."

"Guilt," Laura guessed.

"Yeah. Spencer guilt."

"The worst kind," Laura finished for him as she reached out for Lulu. "I hope you've forgiven yourself by now."

"I’m learning. I'm almost there." He looked toward Frankie's room and down at the puppet. "I'd better let him have this. Cookie Monster was his favorite when he was little."

"I remember him saying that. He held onto that toy like a life preserver back when he was injured and recovering from surgery."

Luke waved goodbye to Lulu when Laura retreated down the hallway, and he entered Frankie's room, not surprised to see him sound asleep on top of the bed, arms askew as if he remembered while sleeping that he needed to protect the IV sites and not wrap them around his head, like he usually did. Luke inserted the puppet under the crook of the boy's arm and smiled at the sight of his son's improved appearance with his pink cheeks, signaling that his transfusion was working. "Sleep well. I'll be back later," he whispered.

~*~*~*~

"Mom, feel my hair." Sly bent over in front of Alexis and held his head down so it could be patted.

"What hair?" Alexis asked with amusement.

"Moooomm," Sly protested. "You said it would grow back, and I think it looks longer now. Would you look at it?"

Alexis smiled at Sly's impatience and sympathized with his dilemma. She ran her fingers through the bristly stubble and said, "It seems longer." That wasn't a lie exactly. It still was a crew cut, but felt a fraction fluffier than before, if that was the word to describe it. There was the possibility of new growth.

"Good," Sly sighed. "I'm tired of being a mutant."

"Are you growing an extra limb?" Alexis asked. "You look human to me."

Sly sat down beside his mother on the couch and slumped over. His face was drawn as if he hadn't slept well the night before, and Alexis felt a stab of worry attack her. "You seem very tired," she observed. "Do you need a nap?"

"No!" Sly answered back sharply. "I'm not a baby."

"I know, honey, but you're recovering from surgery. It's tiring." It was hard for Alexis to discern where her son's mood was coming from. If he were a girl, she'd say he had PMS, so twitchy and disagreeable he was becoming. Maybe it was simply teenaged hormones, but she wasn't sure. There seemed to be something bothering him, something that he wouldn't share. He'd repeatedly waved off any attempts that she or Luke made to get him to talk about the kidnapping, saying that it was all over with and not worth discussing.

"I fell asleep on Emily," Sly admitted sheepishly as he nervously twiddled his thumbs. "I'm surprised she's still speaking to me." He recalled waking up at the touch of her lips and feeling mortified that he'd been sleeping in front of his girlfriend. What if he'd drooled or talked in his sleep? Emily had laughed it off, but Sly wanted to appear more masculine and in control of himself in front of his girl.

"Resting on the couch was part of the deal if you wanted to spend time with the Quartermaines," Alexis reminded him. "Remember when we talked about that?"

Sly made a face but didn't answer. Why was his mother hanging around all the time? Wasn't he old enough to be left alone? He'd been left alone by Bill plenty of times since he was seven or eight, sometimes all day and night, so why did his mother insist on babysitting a fourteen year old? "I can take care of myself," he grumbled.

"Of course you can," Alexis replied positively. She knew there was a fine line between giving Sly the attention he needed and smothering him. It was hard to discern that line with his background, one filled with casual neglect. What was normal for another child, Sly found restrictive and intrusive, yet he seemed to hungrily absorb any attention he received. Maybe it was an internal war he was fighting, one that he wasn't comfortable sharing. Sly and Frankie were remarkably similar when you swept away the surface differences. It was a constant dance of push and pull, hug and retreat. It had only been several months since the new Spencer family had formed, so she was probably expecting too much, too soon, Alexis decided.

"How's Frankie?" Sly asked, changing the subject.

"He's recovering, and the bleeding has stopped."

"So he'll survive?"

"Sure. His problem isn't fatal. We're hoping that the latest round of drugs will place his ITP in remission."

Sly looked queasy and tapped on his arm cast with a nervous drumming sound. "There was a lot of blood in that bathroom," he gulped. "It was smeared all over the floor and tub. I wanted to help you, but it made me sick." Sly recalled feeling faint and nauseous when he'd entered the room, falling against the counter and trying to remain standing in the midst of what looked to be a crime scene.

"I'm not afraid of blood," Alexis stated. "It was no big deal. It only took a few minutes to mop it up. Besides, I didn't want you to stain your white cast."

"I want this off," Sly complained, waving his broken arm in the air.

"Five more weeks."

"Of hell. It's hot and it itches. Oh well, I'm not as bad off as Frankie."

"Apples and oranges," Alexis asserted. "You can't compare yourself to your brother."

Sly shrugged. "I miss him, but don't tell him I said that. He'll get a big head - bigger than he already has."

You really are crabby today, Alexis thought. A grin spread across her face, dimpling her cheeks, when a light bulb went off in her head with the arrival of a grand idea. "You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning," she pointed out. "Do you want to stay with Frankie this evening? I have to be in court later this afternoon, so that would be convenient for me. I can drop you off there, and then pick you up the next morning. Frankie is probably bored, too. You can keep each other company." Alexis knew that there was a greater chance of Sly napping and taking it easy in the hospital setting since there was only a television and telephone to occupy the time.

Sly brightened up at the idea of having a companion to talk to since that was his favorite activity. Emily was in school, so they couldn’t talk. Besides, he needed more romantic pointers from his older brother, but it hadn't been possible to discuss the subject with the parents hovering nearby. Emily's parents work late. She can stop by to see them and then visit me afterwards. "Great idea! Let me get my bag, pack some clothes, find some CD's, and a couple of books. I'm out of here!"

Alexis watched her son dart down the hallway and heard his bedroom door bang against the wall with the force of his excitement. Drawers scratched open and slammed shut at an alarming pace. She frowned slightly. Should I be offended or happy? I’m not sure.

~*~*~*~

Frankie set aside his laptop and leaned back against his pillows, looking pensive as he tapped his forefinger on his lips. Dere's so many. It's hard to choose, but I keep goin' back to dat first one. I'll order it, he thought as his fingers moved over the keyboard, typing in one of the credit card numbers that he'd committed to memory. He was briefly thankful that Frank had insisted on storing all this data in his brain. It had been a pain memorizing the numbers, but now it came in handy for making purchases whenever he was near a phone or computer.

Frankie imagined Maxie's face when she saw what he just bought, and he knew she'd love it. They hadn't known each other for long - brief months actually - but they had a powerful connection that made words irrelevant. He seemed to instinctively know Maxie's tastes, and she hadn't disappointed him yet. His heart warmed with the memories of holding her in his arms and kissing her lips, getting lost in her aqua blue eyes as she returned his affection. How did she always manage to smell so good, like a dessert warming in the oven, so tempting and tasty? He couldn't get enough of her soft, silky skin, and he chuckled when he noticed he was gripping the blanket with the force of his imagination.

Frankie reached for the phone and pulled it onto his lap as he darted his eyes toward the doorway. Nobody's eavesdropping, he noted. It was good that the bodyguard was stationed close by but out of earshot of private conversations since he had several transactions to complete, none of which he wanted his parents to discover.

When Frankie lifted the phone receiver, his hand shook hard enough to send it tumbling to his lap, where he stared at it as he quickly tucked his hands under his armpits and squeezed, trying to make them remain still. He flopped back onto the bed with a sigh of defeat. I can't stop wanting a drink. I don't think I'm gonna make it on my own with dis. I wish I'd never taken a drink, but I can't even remember not doin' it. How old had he been when he'd accepted sips from the adult's cocktails as payment for being so cute and a good singer? Two?  He looked with annoyance at the IV lines that continually slapped against his arm every time he moved. The drugs and platelets were certainly helping because the bleeding had stopped, but he still had a fierce headache. Was it a side effect or was it the withdrawal? Either way, Frankie felt cursed and wondered if he'd ever return to the former state of health that he'd enjoyed at the Smith mansion.

Frankie's face tightened with anger at the vision of a continued life with Frank Smith. What if none of this had happened, if the man who he'd called father hadn't been murdered in cold blood? I'd be minus a couple more teeth, he reflected as he stroked his chin and felt for his missing tooth with his tongue. Oh, and he'd kill me. It was comin.' We both knew it. Frankie shivered with the memory of the strange vibes that Frank had given him. I'm better off now, definitely. I thought I'd never live to be twenty-one so why am I down about dis now?

Frankie removed his hands from his armpits and dialed the phone without hesitation. He'd memorized countless phone numbers - his whole brain was full of numbers.

"I wanna talk to Dutch," Frankie growled into the phone. "Frankie Smith," he spit out in response to the question on the other end of the line. "As in Smith Junior." He shook his head at the stupidity of the man who'd answered the phone and bent his neck left and right to crack it as a sneer crossed his face.

"Ay. Dutch," he said jovially yet forcefully as if he were still the man in charge. "It's Frankie Smith." He hesitated and then laughed at the man's response. "No, I'm not dead, stupid. Huh? I'm not back in da business. Dat's over with, I’m legit, but you can't take da business outta me, ya know? Ha. Tell me about it. Bein' straight is boring. Uh, yeah, I wish I still had da stable, but I'm with one lady now. I'm makin' adjustments. But...I still need protection, especially against dose bastard kidnapper types. Man, I hate dem. I got bodyguards, but I wanna obtain a personal one of my own, so I wondered if you knew of any men who might work for me now, sorta semi-retirement? It'd be an easy job, just follow me around everywhere. I was thinkin' about maybe Jimmy? He was always dreamin' about getting out. Okay, he'll have to interview with Johnny first. No, Johnny is totally civilian now, but he's hooked up with my aunt. Yeah, ain't dat a hoot? He likes dose hot redheads.  The job would be in Port Charles, New York - dat's my home base now. Here's my phone number. Pass it on to him. Have him get back to me soon, though."

Frankie recited several phone numbers so the mob bodyguard could reach him. He cradled the phone between his ear and neck as he continued to speak to his old crony and relaxed into a familiar role, the one that part of him still missed. After the conversation finished, he looked blank and confused, aware that he'd been different when speaking with the man, much more coarse and harsh than he usually felt or behaved.

Frankie hung up the phone and stared straight ahead at the blank, white wall across from his bed but was distracted by a blue object in his peripheral vision. Cookie. He giggled and inserted his hand into the puppet. I like Cookie! Twisting the puppet around with the flick of a wrist, he mimicked and teased the blue plush creature, holding a private conversation that only the two of them could understand. After a few minutes, Frankie flopped on his side and hid the puppet under his blanket so no one would see a fifteen year old boy playing with a toy.  Does Maxie like all of me? he worried. Or do I gotta pretend and hide all of da rest? Can I do it?

Frankie looked down at the legs of his scrubs, rolled up three times to compensate for his short height. I feel stupid dat Maxie is taller dan me. Dr. Jerry said da alcohol might have interfered with my growth and dat I might see a difference when I quit for good. Dat'll inspire me. He swung his legs over the bed and grasped the pool that held his IV fluids. I'm gonna take a shower. Maybe it'll clean up my attitude, too.

~*~*~*~

Frankie was breathing regularly, refreshed from his shower and sound asleep on his back, his hands folded over his midriff. She crept over to his bed and watched his face, smiling to herself, pleased with her surprise and enjoying the view. She wondered when he'd get a haircut as his was longish with the black tips still left over from his dye job. It was still damp from the shower and spilled across his forehead, hiding his right eye. Her fingers played with his hair, sweeping it from his forehead and curling it around his ear.

Frankie's hand shot out before his eyes opened. Not fully awake, he sensed the presence of another person near him, and he gripped her wrist with such force that she exclaimed, "Frankie! It's me. It's Maxie. Let go of my arm!"

Frankie's blue eyes looked with confusion into his girlfriend's pained face, and he immediately let her go, his hand swiftly moving away from her arm. He glanced around him, uncertain of what was happening, and scooted up to a sitting position. He was frowning as he hated feeling vulnerable and hated it even more when another person caught him reacting that way. "Maxie! What are you doin' here?" he exclaimed while running the back of his hand over his sleepy face and hoping he looked presentable.

Maxie looked hurt and crossed her arms against her emotions. "I came to visit you. I called your house, and your stepmother said you were in GH. My mother is visiting some old lady from church, and I talked her into letting me come."

Frankie brightened up and moved to the side of the bed, rubbing the newly bare spot to show her where he wanted her to sit. "Come here," he said repentantly. "I'm sorry. You can't sneak up on me, or I get funny."

"I guess so," Maxie sighed as she sat down beside him. "That's okay. I'm happy to see you."

"Me too," Frankie replied softly. He couldn't keep his eyes from roaming over her entire being, so enchanted he was with her. Thinking about her was great, but being physically close to her was heaven. 

"You look okay," Maxie observed, pointing to the IV's. "You're not on oxygen," she teased him. "Remember when we kissed with all that apparatus getting in the way?"

"Yeah," Frankie agreed with a fervent nod. "I remember." He reached out and took her hand, gazing into her eyes, which were a color that reminded him of photos of Caribbean lagoons, bright and cheerful. "Kiss me now," he whispered to her with a sly grin.

Maxie bent toward him, and he caught a whiff of her perfume, fresh and lively as usual - and certainly edible. Maxie favored floral vanilla and other food scents, which was okay in his book. Frankie closed his eyes when their lips met, allowing their warmth to meld together as one, and he smiled to himself when he felt Maxie's lips part and her tongue seek his. He liked it when she made a move on him - it made him more excited if that were possible.

"Lovely," he sighed when they parted. He leaned back onto his pillows and held his hands behind his head. "Do you want to lie next to me?" he offered.

"Okay." Maxie lay back and snuggled close to Frankie, placing an arm across his stomach. "What happened?" she questioned.

"It's dat blood disease I have," Frankie explained. "It was in remission, but it's back. So, I gotta take dese drugs to suppress da immune system."

"Like me."

"Yeah, but not as long term. I got da real high doses to shock da system into working right."

"It's still scary."

"It was to my parents," Frankie stated. "I bled all over dere bathroom. My dad had towels everywhere in da car to catch all da blood. I hope I didn't wreck it. I was kinda out of it."

"I'm sure he's not worried about his car," Maxie disagreed.

"I dunno," Frankie laughed. "He's into dose older cars. He drove me in da Cadillac. Dat's his baby."

"And you are, too."

Frankie blinked at the implications of her comment. "I guess so. At least I used ta be."

"You'll always be. That's the way that parents feel. It's a drag sometimes - when they remind you constantly or when they think you're too young to do something."

"It's mostly good," Frankie breathed out in appreciation. "I never had dat growing up, but I have it now. I like it."

"So you're okay otherwise?"

"Sort of," Frankie hedged. He pinched her side to tease her. "I don't have dat paper back yet. Dey drew blood for tests."

Maxie pinched Frankie in return as she giggled. "Good for you, buster. I'm the STD police."

"Arrest me, Officer Jones," Frankie joked back. "I'll do whatever you tell me. Please be sure to use your handcuffs."

"Frankie! You're so bad."

Frankie squeezed Maxie's arm. "I know. I'm tryin' to be good, but it's hard when I'm around you." He slowly drew his index finger along her cheek. "I love you," he said simply and matter of factly. "I want you to be safe."

"I know I'm coming off as being paranoid," Maxie sighed. "But it really hits home when your big sis has HIV. She lost the love of her life to that disease, and now she has to live with it in her own body. She's so sad sometimes, Frankie."

"I'm sorry. She seemed nice when I met her."

"She is. But, she's worried that you'll lead me astray. She's kind of twitchy about that mob stuff - not as bad as Mac - but she's not sure about you."

"I'm not sure about me," Frankie joked. "All I know is dat I'll never hurt you, not on purpose. I have a bad past and a lot of stuff I have to live with. It's not easy to be around me, and I'm sorry. Maybe you do deserve better."

"What's the definition of better? I've never wanted anyone like I want you. Nobody's perfect. I'd say you came out just fine given the circumstances, from the stories you've told me. You're moving ahead, right? No more mob or whores."

"You're still sore about dat."

"It'll take some time," Maxie stated.

Frankie took her hand and held it firmly. "I love you, only you. I never loved 'em. It was something else."

Maxie blinked away a few tears and wiped at her eyes. "I know. I know it in my head, but it's my heart that hurts," she tried to explain.

"I'm real sorry," Frankie replied with a choked voice. "I don't know what else to say except I won't do it again. I promised you. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I guess I should have told you everything up front, but after we got close, I was afraid you wouldn't want me no more. I’m not sure I want myself sometimes, but I'm workin' on it."

"I have something that I need to tell you," Maxie confessed. "I don't want to mislead you. I know that you're hoping we'll sleep together after I see that paper, but there's a problem." 

"What?"

Maxie turned so they could see each other face to face. "I went to a clinic for birth control pills. They wouldn't prescribe them to me because of my heart condition and told me I should wait until marriage because I can't have an unplanned pregnancy. It would be real dangerous for me, and the other birth control methods aren't good enough. I feel like I can't take the chance. I'm only fifteen, Frankie. It's hard enough wondering how long my heart will last."

Frankie sat up and pulled Maxie toward him, her back to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and leaning his chin on her shoulder. He could tell she was crying, and he stroked her long, blond hair with a gentle hand. "We won't have sex now," he said quietly. "I don't want to risk losing you."

Maxie turned and looked into his concerned eyes, and she could tell that he meant it. "But I know you were counting on it. Heck, I wanted it, too." She smiled at him and laughed, wagging her finger at him when his eyes lit up. "See? You have a one track mind."

"Apparently you do, too," he teased her.

Maxie shrugged. "Girls have hormones."

"I noticed."

"So what do we do?" Maxie asked.

Frankie moved his hands over her tense shoulders and massaged them until Maxie sighed and leaned into him. "That feels good. You have great hands."

Frankie moved her hair away from her ear and nipped at her earlobe. "Don't need a penis in da vagina to have sex," he whispered in a sultry voice, breathing into her ear and running his hands up and down her arms. "I'll show you da world," he promised. "And you won't get pregnant."

Maxie blushed at Frankie's bold use of anatomically correct terms. Why was it easier to talk about body parts with silly words? "Mmhmm? What are you suggesting?"

Frankie resumed rubbing her shoulders. "We can touch each other and feel good. No danger of dat being boring."

"We need to go on a date," Maxie complained. "Anyone can walk into this hospital room at any time. We've been caught before. I hate getting caught."

Frankie laughed in appreciation of Maxie's humor. "Can I come over for dinner on Thursday rather than Wednesday? I should feel better by den."

"By that's not a real date."

"I know," Frankie sympathized. "First, we gotta convince dat mean ole stepfather of yours dat I'm not evil incarnate."

"Good luck," Maxie chuckled.

"I hate goin' ta jail," Frankie added.

"Oh! Mac resigned. He's going to start a restaurant with my mother. It's been their dream for years. See? Mac's not so bad. He was pressured by the job."

"Wow," Frankie breathed out in relief. "Dat is good news. No more jail for Frankie."

"What do you have in mind for this date?" Maxie inquired.

Frankie moved his hand to rub her stomach in a sensual motion. "I'll surprise ya," he promised.

"Oh, I love surprises!" Maxie exclaimed, yet she frowned and sighed. "But I hate them, too. Anticipation. It stinks."

"Not always," Frankie said sexily as he played with the edge of Maxie's sweater and ran his fingers over the exposed skin of her stomach. He leaned in to place soft kisses on her neck.

Maxie's hands ran over the blankets on the bed and stopped at a large lump. "What's this?" She pulled out the Cookie Monster puppet and laughed. "Who's he?"

"Dat's Cookie," Frankie laughed. "Dat's his name and don't wear it out. He's moody." Frankie inserted his hand in the puppet and bugged his eyes out in imitation of Cookie's crazed expression. "And I'm his friend. He said so."

"Oh yeah?"

"Pretty girl," Frankie growled as he had Cookie pat her arm. "Give me da cookies. All of dem. I want 'em now, Blondie."

"I don't have any cookies," Maxie sniffed in disdain at the willful puppet.

"MMmmm," Cookie growled as he slowly crawled up Maxie's leg. "You're da cookie, sweet one. I'm gonna gobble you up!" Frankie bat the puppet against her leg as if he were chewing her up. "Yum, yum. Goooood."

Maxie swatted at the puppet. "You're crazy."

Frankie crossed his eyes at her. "Say it's not so. I did escape from the asylum."

"And so you did," Maxie chuckled. "And your crazy puppet did, too."

Frankie removed Cookie from his hand and laid him aside. "My dad bought him for me when I was recovering from surgery - after my accident." He cleared his throat and looked pensive. "I told my dad dat Cookie was my favorite when I was a little kid. So, he bought 'em. He's like dat, my dad."

"He's wonderful," Maxie said softly.

Frankie cleared his throat again and looked down. "So, you think I'm silly, like a kid?"

"Sometimes," Maxie admitted. "I like it because we have fun, like just now. But, you're different in many ways. There's that meanie mob side of you, and then that devilish Romeo you, and..." Maxie stopped short, surprised by Frankie's hand grabbing hers to stop her from talking. "What is it?" She noticed that his face looked sad and afraid at the same time.

Frankie looked her in the eye and then glanced away. "Are we bein' totally honest with each other?"

"Yes," Maxie nodded. "That's what I thought."

"I don’t want you to hate me or be afraid of me or think I'm a freak," Frankie said tensely.

"I don't think that."

"You don't know."

"What?"

Frankie shrugged and released her hand. "It's hard to explain. You know my dad, Frank - the kidnapper dad?"

"Yes."

"I told you a few stories about him. Well, dere's lots more. Some I haven't told a single person, and maybe I won't ever."

Maxie looked concerned when Frankie's face fell and he quit talking for a long moment.

"Dere's a reason why I act different all da time. It's 'cause I am different." Frankie waved his hand around his head. "Da past, da way I lived, all dat stuff, it's not good. It messed me up - in da mind."

"I know it's been hard on you. Anybody would be stressed out by that."

"It's more dan stress," Frankie said harshly. "I got all dese people running around inside my head. It's all separate, not da same. Sometimes I don't remember, like when I yelled at my mama? I didn't do it."

"I saw you," Maxie protested. "You were out of control, sure, but..."

"It wasn't me," Frankie said again.  "I created all dese people, dese personalities to deal with da way my life was. I couldn’t be a man like my dad wanted, so I created one. Only now I can't control it like I used to. Dey pop in and out depending on what's happening. I get mad, and dis mean one comes out."

"The email," Maxie said reflectively. "That's why it read like several people wrote it."

"I guess."

"You did this on purpose?"

Frankie shook his head. "No. I was too little when it started. I didn't realize I did it."

"What are you going to do?"

"Live my life?" Frankie asked bitterly. "I dunno. My dad and Stefan said I can work on putting 'em all together or getting dem to cooperate. Den I won't be all over da place all da time. It might take years to do it, though."

"Are you taking medication for this?" Maxie asked seriously, her mind intrigued and worried at the same time. She wasn't as shocked as Frankie seemed to expect she'd be as she'd often seen him change in an instant and felt it was unusual but had shrugged it off.

"Not for dat," Frankie said, blushing with embarrassment. "I got other problems - anxiety, depression, and stuff like dat. I take drugs for dat. It helps. Better dan drinking alcohol. I've stopped doing dat. My grandfather was an alcoholic and it runs in da family. My dad told me about it. I can't drink 'cause I'm one, too."

"When you spill the beans, you really go for it," Maxie said incredulously.

"So you hate me now." Frankie stated with defeat. "I thought you deserved da truth since we're talking about important stuff. If we're goin' ta share bodies, we should share everything."

"Why are you so quick to assume that I'll hate you?"

"'Cause I hate me?"

"It's a lot for me to absorb, but it's not your fault. You know that, don't you?"

"I guess."

"I'm not sure I understand it all, but you're my boyfriend. I'm not giving up on you. I mean, if I can put up with the one hundred whores...."

Frankie grinned. "I got multiple personalities but you're worried da most about da stupid whores."

"I can't help it. I have a one track mind."

"Glad somebody does."

"I'm safe with you, right? That mean one isn’t going to harm me?"

Frankie shook his head. "He won't hurt you. He's mostly talk anyway. I love you, Maxie. All of me. You're safe with me."

Maxie scooted closer to Frankie and draped her arms around his waist. "Kiss me," she said simply. "I love my boyfriend, and I want him to kiss me."

"I love you, too."

Maxie held her finger over his lips. "We'll talk more about it later. Right now, I want to make out. My mom's going to want to leave soon, and we're running out of time."

Frankie smiled at Maxie's hormonal self and kissed her passionately, holding her face in his hands and giving her the kiss of her life, refusing to break away, but instead increasing its depth and intensity until they both melted down on the bed, lying side by side and feeling each searing place where their bodies met as solid heat. Frankie kept kissing her while he ran his hand repeatedly over her breast and placed his leg over hers to join their bodies closer together.  

"Hey! Guess who's here for the night..."

Frankie and Maxie jumped and hurriedly adjusted their clothing against the intrusion. Maxie's heart beat wildly in her chest, and Frankie's joined her in its staccato rhythm.

"Sly," Frankie said dryly as he rolled his eyes. "Figures."

~*~*~*~

"Dat's great timing you got," Frankie complained as he watched Sly unpack his suitcase, placing his CD player on the nightstand and making himself at home. "How come you're always walking in on me and Maxie? I can't kiss dat girl without wonderin' if you got dat videotape running. Gives me nightmares."

"You're the one who makes out in public places."

"Uh. Right. I'm da only one in dis room dat makes out."

Sly sat down on the bed that had previously been unoccupied. He raised his eyebrows and gave Frankie a big smile. "Ask Emily. I think she'd disagree."

"Well, she's da one in love with da earrings," Frankie muttered.

"You were all over Maxie when I came in. You taking her to the mall?"

Frankie colored, and his face stiffened at the mention of the old joke between them, their code words for having sex with a girl. "None of your business."

"Since when is Frankie Spencer's love life anything but public knowledge? It's your favorite topic of conversation - fuck this, fuck that. It's your four letter word of choice."

Frankie shrugged and dangled his legs off the edge of the bed, swinging them back and forth. "Things change," he said cryptically as he avoided his brother's gaze. Ever since he and Maxie had declared their love for one another and made plans to be intimate, he'd become reticent about discussing their relationship and became very private about the subject.

"Emily is stopping by."

"Oh joy."

"We'll need our privacy."

"Oh. And where am I gonna be?"

"In the bathroom. Give us half an hour alone."

Frankie cracked up and made a face. "She's gonna think I'm constipated," he complained. "Sorry, can't do it 'cause as you can see, I'm hooked up to an IV. I'll pretend I'm asleep; in fact, maybe I will be asleep. I'm tired."

"That kind of spoils the mood," Sly pouted.

"What mood? You're just gonna smooch her. You can do dat in front of her parents for dat matter. I'm not interested. I'll be dreaming about Maxie."

"That’s what I wanted to talk to you about." Sly tensed up with the questions that were burning in his mind.

"What?"

Sly turned skittish and scraped his feet across the floor, making a circular pattern on the lineoleum with his sneaker. "Me and Emily...we kiss a lot. And, well, I think we both like it."

"Good. Congratulations."

"Frankie," Sly complained. "I'm trying to ask you a question if you'll stop with the smart remarks."

Frankie lay back on his bed and sighed as he held a hand to his forehead. "I'm listening."

"How do I know what to do next?" Sly's voice squeaked out. "What is she expecting? I mean, she seems to like what I do."

"We talked about dis before," Frankie said patiently. "Every girl is different. It's a mystery. You have to put da puzzle together on your own. No one else can help you do dat."

"But what if...you know... I touch her somewhere and she gets mad or hits me or hates my guts or something?" Sly worried.

"Act now and repent later," Frankie stated firmly. "It's da only way. Do what you want. Maybe she'll attack you if you do it right."

Sly gulped nervously. "I never thought about that - Emily doing something to me."

"Girls have hormones, too," Frankie said, borrowing Maxie's earlier statement.

"Yeah, I guess so," Sly said with wonder. "This is too complicated. I think we'll stick with the kissing. I'm not ready for this."

"Dat's fine. You don't gotta prove nothing."

"Really?"

"Really. Just kiss your girl and have fun. Otherwise, it's a drag, and who needs dat. It shouldn't be a chore."

"Okay," Sly said with more vigor as he rose from the bed and searched through his CDs. "I like kissing. We'll stick with that for now."

"Got any Backstreet Boys in dere?" Frankie asked casually with a teasing tone of voice.

"You wish."

Frankie sat back up and carefully rose from the bed. "I don't need no earrings to be da man," he laughed.  He held an imaginary microphone to his lips and closed his eyes as he swayed with the music that was in his mind. Frankie let his silky voice emerge, full of rhythm and passion.

All you people can't you see, can't you see 
How your love is affecting your reality
Every time we're down, you can make it right
And dat makes you larger than life

Frankie jutted his hips forward and swiveled around, shaking his head as if his hair would sparkle in the light. He held his hand in the air, commanding the audience, curling his finger in a come hither motion.

Lookin' at the crowd and I see your body sway, come on
Wishin' I could thank you in a different way, come on
'Cause all of your time spent keeps us alive

Frankie jumped and closed his mouth when he heard the clapping and wolf whistle floating in from the hallway. "Stupid bodyguard," he mumbled crossly.

"Bro, you're really cool," Sly said sincerely. "Screw the earrings. I didn't know you were that good. I mean, I've heard you singing the old tunes, but you're tough. Have you thought about doing this professionally?"

Frankie shrugged off the compliment, but he glowed with the praise and let out a secret smile. "Maybe."

~*~*~*~

Luke groaned appreciatively as he slid off of Alexis' body and settled onto his side of the bed. "Cowabunga," he snickered. "I thought sex was supposed to go downhill once you're an old married couple. This only gets better and better."

Alexis curled her naked body around Luke and ran her hand over his heavily breathing chest. 'No squabbling children, no medical emergencies, no kidnappings or death threats. We can concentrate on one another."

"And I like the way you concentrate. Brainy gals are the best," Luke laughed. "Having Sly stay with Frankie tonight was a stroke of genius. Oh, man, I'm looking forward to that honeymoon. I have a ton of surprises for you, sweet girl."

"Luke," Alexis chuckled.

"What, baby?"

"Have you noticed something?"

"Spell it out for me, Alexis. My body is on fire, but my brain's dead."

"It's about Maxie, Frankie's girlfriend. It's the way she looks."

"She's a cute girl."

"Well, yes. What I mean is...she looks like Laura did when she was a teenager. I saw an old photo of Laura in Frankie's memory book, and I swear Maxie is a dead ringer for her."

Luke frowned and then gulped. "Well, now that you mention it..." He sat up suddenly and swatted his pillow at his wife. "Oh, don't go there. You are sooo warped. What is it with you Greeks? Oedipus complex? Aw no. I don't wanna think about that."

Alexis grinned so broadly that her dimples nearly impaled her cheeks. Her eyes danced at Luke's discomfort. "I love freaking you out," she giggled. "You're so much fun to tease. You should see your face."

"No, darlin.' You're gonna see my face," Luke threatened as he captured her into a deep kiss and hugged her tightly, reveling in her nakedness so close to his.

"Can I see the rest of you - again?" Alexis asked innocently. "Pretty please?"

 Next chapter...