Chapter Forty-Six
Nikolas stood at the edge of the docks, backpack looped over his shoulder, and a frown covering his face as he waited for the school bus for the first time in his life. Stefan, of course, had provided Nikolas with the schedule so he wouldn't "accidentally" miss it. He'd had to rise a full forty minutes early in order to wait for the stupid vehicle to arrive. Nikolas glanced at his watch. Were these buses always this late? He'd been standing there for fifteen minutes and felt chilled by the early morning air. Before, he'd never bothered worrying about wearing light jackets when he only had to walk several paces from his Jaguar to the front door of the school.
Soon, the orange monstrosity with the words Port Charles County Schools emblazoned on the side in bold black letters came roaring from the distance, backfiring and causing endless pollution with its toxic black emissions. Nikolas gingerly held up his hand to motion that he wanted the vehicle to stop for him. He coughed and grimaced when the bus stopped and the exhaust fumes swirled around his feet, rising up to his nose within seconds. The door creaked open, and Nikolas was greeted by the sight of the most poorly aged fat woman he'd ever seen. Bertha regarded him with her bear-like eyes, not at all impressed by the handsome jock with the almond brown eyes and sun-kissed skin. "Get in or walk," she growled at him, her red lipsticked lips forming a gaping pout as she watched him. Nikolas immediately obeyed out of awe and fear of the woman whose abundant posterior barely fit the boundaries of the small drivers seat and whose bright, copper dyed hair screamed trailer park and cheating husbands. Bertha glared at him as if to say, "I've had enough of your kind."
Nikolas stared out into the sea of young freshman and sophomore faces that regarded him curiously. No one appeared to be over the age of fifteen on this bus. Most Port Charles juniors and seniors had purchased their own wheels or conned their parents into using a family car to drive themselves and a few friends to school. Nikolas set his face and walked toward the back of the bus in search of a free seat.
"Hey, Nikolas!" a familiar voice rang out. Nikolas turned to see Sly staring at him. Maxie was by his side, looking out the window. "What are you doing here?"
"Don't ask," Nikolas intoned wearily. "Our idiot brother got me in trouble. So here I am as my punishment. Wonder what Dante would call this level of hell?"
Sly frowned at the implications of Nikolas' words. "Is everything cool now?" he questioned. Nikolas found an empty seat three rows down and sat in it with a massive sigh. "Hardly," he answered. He turned to look at his companion, a very homely girl with large, coke bottle glasses, an overbite and an endearing tendency to fart when the bus hit a bump. He shifted further over to the side of the seat when she began gazing at him adoringly. Hell, he thought morosely. I've died and gone to hell.
~*~*~*~
Frankie played with the porcelain bowls set on the tray in front of him. His face relaxed with relief when his mother entered his room. "What is dis?" he asked with a disgusted look on his face as he repeatedly spooned up the soft foods and let them slip and slither back into the bowl. "Dis is gross."
"It's your breakfast," Laura answered positively. "You need to eat so you'll gain your strength."
Frankie shook his head. "I'm not eatin' it."
Laura pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. "I know it's different, but it's the same food only ground up. In a few days, you can switch to regular food."
"In a few days, I'll be dead if I eat dis," Frankie answered shortly. He spooned up some green goo and said, "I never seen nothing green for breakfast before."
Laura reached out and sniffed at the bowl. "Peas," she said. "They're peas."
Frankie's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, no," he protested. "I don't eat dem even when dey're round."
Laura sighed with frustration. "What can I give you to eat that you'll be satisfied with? The doctor said you need fruit and vegetables with each meal."
Frankie muttered under his breath and gave his mother a mutinous glance. "Blueberry waffles," he stated impudently.
Laura smiled. "The waffles won't fit into the blender, but I bet we can round you up some blueberries. How's that?"
Frankie's gaze softened. "Okay, mama," he conceded. "What's dat?" he asked curiously as he regarded the large bag in her hands.
Laura brightened. "This is the result of two hours of shopping yesterday. I bought you some new clothes, just a few outfits to get you started. Why don't you look them over while I find something else for you to eat?"
Frankie rubbed his hands together. "Ya," he answered quickly as he accepted the bag. "Thank you, mama." Frankie flinched lightly when Laura ran her hand across his hair and kissed his forehead. His eyes flickered with hurt and suspicion, and he wished for some of the cosmetic foundation that Michelle had bought him to cover up the marks on his face. This morning in the bathroom, he'd seen the evidence of the previous night's fight with Nikolas - a swollen, puffy red and blue bruise right over his cheekbone. How was he going to avoid having anyone notice it? When his mother had come too close, he'd been mortified and pulled away in reaction.
Laura frowned in puzzlement at her son's behavior. Why was he so skittish? "Do you feel all right?" she asked in her mother's tone of voice as she held her hand against his forehead to check for fever. Frank tried to scoot as far away from her as possible and ducked under her hand. "I'm okay," he said unconvincingly.
"Did I do something wrong?" Laura asked worriedly.
"Mama!" Frankie protested without explanation. He glared at her, willing her to leave him alone.
Laura's lips pursed, but she shrugged. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Look over your clothing and tell me what you like or dislike when I return, okay."
"Ya," Frankie agreed as he stared down at his lap.
After Laura left the room, he pulled out the clothing to assess it. Black jeans, dat's good. Oooh, a black sweatshirt. I like dat. The gold emblem of Port Charles University was emblazoned on the front, and he nodded with satisfaction. He ran his hands over a dressier outfit, black wool slacks with a silky cream colored shirt. The outfit wasn't up to custom clothing standards, but it was nice. How did mama know I'd like dis? Frankie colored when he pulled out the packets of socks and underwear. His eyes darted around the room in embarrassment. How would she know da right size for dese? Oh, da tailor's measurements. Okay. Frankie sighed with relief. He inspected a pair of white Nike sneakers and some black leather loafers. He'd never worn shoes that weren't custom made in Italy, but oh well. These would do for now until he was up on his feet and buying his own clothes.
"How'd I do?" Laura asked merrily as she set two bowls of mashed fruit in front of Frankie. "Good," Frankie complimented with a nod. "I like everything, mama."
Laura brightened at the improvement in Frankie's mood. "Well, you can pay me back by eating your fruit," she said. Frankie gulped down his fruit and smiled. "Ta da!"
"I noticed that the doctor removed your IV."
"Yeah, I had to promise to drink a lot of fluids and not complain when I have to get shots," Frankie tittered. "He's a hardass."
Laura colored a bit at Frankie's language, but let it pass. "Jerry seems like a very nice doctor."
"He's okay," Frankie said. "He doesn't push me around too much. I feel like I can talk to him."
"Need help getting dressed?"
Frankie shook his head. "I'm gonna wear da black outfit. Maybe you can help me with da jeans when I come outta da bathroom 'cause I can't move my leg."
"Sure, sure," Laura replied as she looked on with a trace of worry when Frankie began delicately maneuvering himself into the wheelchair. She wanted to help him, but knew he was on a mission to do everything on his own. He'd ask if he needed help.
~*~*~*~
"Laura, the custody has been taken care of," Stefan stated. He sat behind his desk at GH and picked up his letter opener, playing with it and tapping it on a pile of papers.
"What do you mean? Don't we have to talk to those social workers? I've been dreading it, but isn't it necessary? Is the court date still this Thursday?"
"The date is Thursday, and no, the social workers won't be coming. I've taken care of that detail. We will have joint custody. The judge has agreed." Stefan paused, refusing to further implicate himself in criminal acts over the phone, yet wanting to reassure his wife of their control over their son.
Laura finally picked up his vibe and said, "Oh. Yes. It will be good to have this issue resolved."
Stefan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He spoke in a low voice. "Frankie wouldn't have made it past the social workers, Laura. We could have sent the boy to Cassadine Island, but his other parents are in Port Charles."
Laura nodded while she bit her lip. "I understand."
"The family discussion must occur soon," Stefan reminded. "Perhaps tomorrow evening?"
"I'll prepare the boys," Laura sighed. "And cross my fingers."
"Knock on wood, too," Stefan encouraged as he smiled.
~*~*~*~
Later that afternoon...
Nikolas' backpack was especially heavy as he trudged up the stairs to his brother's room. He stopped first at the nursery to see his baby sister. "Hi Emma," he said brightly as he entered the room and watched the nanny rocking Lulu. Lulu's curious eyes rolled over to the sound of her brother's voice. She made a noise and seemed to be smiling.
"She's smiling," Nikolas stated with a note of excitement.
Emma tittered. "She's likely having gas at her young age, but I do think she recognizes her brother's voice. She likes you, Nikolas."
Nikolas nodded and held out his arms as he lowered the backpack to the floor with a metallic clunk. Emma carefully placed the baby in Nikolas' arms and positioned his hand behind her head. Nikolas made several baby sounds at her, and he laughed when she reached out her tiny fingers toward his face. "You know I'm talking to you. You're smart." After a minute, Nikolas made a worried face and looked straight toward the nanny. "Um, I think she needs attention."
Emma smiled broadly. "Why, Nikolas, I've heard of your prowess at changing diapers. Surely you'd like to handle that on your own?"
Nikolas blushed and shook his head as his lips pursed. "She'd be happier with you."
Emma nodded with a bemused look on her face as she scooped Lulu from his arms. "Mmhmm," she answered.
~*~*~*~
When Nikolas entered Frankie's room, Frankie looked up from his computer and immediately returned his gaze to the laptop. His cheek twitched with the force of his jaws clenching together. "You've made a delivery," he stated unemotionally. Gone were the rage, anger and spite that he'd spewed at Nikolas the day before. His feelings had settled into a sort of a toxic sludge that sat hard in his stomach and presented in no immediate danger of flaring into temper. Frankie was behaving as he did with people he couldn't stand. He was distant and hard in demeanor. He flickered his eyes over Nikolas as the boy dug through his backpack.
"I had to steal these from Cook," he explained as he made a two-fisted display of cold beers. "Cook usually has a few beers chilling in the refrigerator, but Cassadines don't drink beer, especially this cold pilsner stuff. That's American."
Frankie colored and held out his hand. "Give me one," he ordered. Frankie's fingers curled protectively around the can, savoring the feel of the wet condensation soaking the cold aluminum. He popped the top and sighed deeply with relief as he raised the can to his waiting lips. Frankie's cold, hard eyes stared straight at Nikolas as he continually swallowed, never letting up until the container was completely drained. Still staring at Nikolas with a rancorous expression, he slowly crushed the can in one hand and threw it dismissively at his brother. "Gimme the other one," he ordered harshly.
When Nikolas handed him the beer, he hesitated. "Frankie, I don't know if it's good for you to drink when you're on medications? What if you have a reaction?"
Frankie's eyes narrowed, and he snatched the can from Nikolas' hand. "What da hell do you care?" he sneered. "Good for you if I'm dead."
Nikolas shook his head. "Not really. We're not friends, well, we can't stand each other, but I don't want you to die or get hurt. I'm not like that."
Frankie popped the top to the second beer and said, "Uh huh," in a cold voice that betrayed his disbelief in Nikolas' concern over his welfare. This time he didn't feel the need to impress Nikolas and only swallowed a fourth of the beer before pausing. "What else is in dat ridiculous backpack?" he asked, his curiosity winning out over his desire to ignore his brother.
Nikolas pulled out three books and laid them at the foot of Frankie's bed. "Homework," he stated. "Father asked me to bring home your books and a list of lessons from your teachers." Nikolas unfolded several sheets of paper. "Here they are with a list of required papers and quiz dates. Looks like they're going to make you work."
Frankie looked with disbelief at the rigorous study schedule. "I gotta work!" he yelled. "I'm not doin' this crap." He shook his head. "Don't have no time for dis. Forget it."
"Orders from Father," Nikolas reminded him. "There's no escape."
Frankie's eyes flared with a newly rising temper. "I only take orders from Frank - and he's dead!" He began breathing heavier with the force of his emotions. "Nobody tells me what to do," he mumbled under his breath as he balled up the assignment lists in his hand and threw them to the floor.
Nikolas pursed his lips and let out a tense breath. He'll learn. You don't cross Father.
"What else?" Frankie asked imperiously as he pointed to the backpack. "Dere better be somethin' else in dere for me, Mr. Fuck His Cousin."
Nikolas felt the steam rising within, and he desperately tried Stefan's suggestion to count to ten.
Frankie eyed him closely. "What are you doin'?"
"Counting to ten so I don't deck you," Nikolas replied tersely.
Frankie sneered. "Fuck you. Gimme dat backpack, prick."
Nikolas threw the bag on Frankie's bed, just out of reach. Frankie grunted and groaned as he adjusted his position and reached for it. He knew the game - forcing indignities on one another. He'd fry Nikolas' goose when he was ready. Frankie picked up his beer from the top of his computer and finished it off in record time. "I need a six pack," he stated. "One a day."
Nikolas looked at him in disbelief. "No way. I took a chance as it is by pilfering Cook's stash. I'm only seventeen. I can't get my hands on booze. I can't buy it."
Frankie's eyes flickered over Nikolas disdainfully. "Baby. Bet dere's lotsa things you can't do. Loser with no brain. I want my beer. Figure out a way to get it."
Nikolas stood with his hands on his hips. "You said you wanted booze. Look in the backpack. I gave it to you."
Frankie pulled out a liter bottle of vodka. He was no lover of vodka but knew of its beneficial properties - namely that it left no smelly evidence behind. "I want beer," he said morosely.
"I'm sorry," Nikolas said. "I can get other liquor and wine, especially wine."
"Gimme wine next time," Frankie ordered breezily. "Go." He waved annoyedly at his brother.
"You're going to hurt yourself if you drink that," Nikolas warned as he walked for the door.
Frankie shrugged and uncapped the bottle.
~*~*~*~
Sly had arranged for Maxie to meet him at Wyndemere after 4:00. He'd explained to her that he and Frankie had a project they needed to work on first. Maxie had pouted since she'd wanted to spend the whole afternoon with Frankie, but Sly remained firm. The stakes were too high for establishing who was King of Gym.
Sly carefully wielded Luke's camcorder. There was a fresh videotape inserted, one that he'd bought on the way home from school. He didn't want to take any chances of Luke getting hold of the finished tape. He kept it close to his body under a light jacket, hoping that Frankie's mother or one of the servants wouldn't stop him to talk. It was vital for the mission to retain its secrecy. He was a familiar guest at Wyndemere, so no one gave him a second glance as he proceeded through the house on his way to Frankie's suite.
"Frankie!" he whispered when he crossed the threshold. Sly was enjoying the mischief that was contagious whenever he was around his new brother.
"Heya Sly!" Frankie called out in greeting. "Come here," he motioned with a devilish look spread over his face. "We're having fun, oh we're having fun."
Sly nodded and darted his eyes around the room. "Nobody's around here, are they?"
Frankie shook his head. "I told dem I got homework." He lifted his eyebrows to affect a fake innocent expression. "You can shut da door."
Frankie moved aside his computer as Sly secured the area, and he slid toward the edge of the bed to reach his wheelchair.
"You look good," Sly noticed. "All in black. You'll make a good presence on tape."
Frankie nodded. "Dat's what I thought. Mama did well. She bought dese for me."
"I've never seen you in jeans, only dressy clothes or one of those weird hospital gowns."
Frankie glared at Sly. "Don't remind me." He adjusted himself in the chair. "Would it be better if I stand up?"
Sly shrugged as he set the camcorder on top of a soft chair to steady it and looked through the viewfinder. "What if you shake or fall or something? Anyway, it looks like you're on a throne if you're sitting down."
Frankie nodded with satisfaction. "Ya," he agreed. He cleared his throat and smoothed a hand over his hair.
"That bruise on your cheek makes you look tougher," Sly commented. "How did you get that?"
"You ask too many questions," Frankie replied shortly, effectively cutting that line of communication.
Sly ignored Frankie as he was growing used to his general moodiness. "Tell me when you're ready, and I'll turn it on."
Frankie adjusted himself, set his face into a mask, and nodded. Sly turned on the machine and stood back to watch the show.
Frankie glared into the camera with all of the mob charisma he could muster. "Gentlemen," he started. "It has come to my attention that PE 350 has become unruly of late. This must not continue." His eyes glinted dangerously. "My sources have indicated that Rick, John, and Jacob in particular are finding it difficult to keep their places in the hierarchy. Let me remind you who is in charge here." Frankie's eyes narrowed and he thrust a thumb at his chest. "Me."
Frankie's tone grew more malevolent the longer he spoke. He outlined the consequences of each infraction and announced the name of the boy who would serve as an example to the others if anyone stepped out of line. The word "disappearance" was used, nothing that could be held legally against Frankie, but stated with enough creepiness to chill the heart of any teenaged boy. Frankie sighed and shifted in his chair much as an actor in The Godfather might do. He snapped his fingers and affected a bored look. "I have business to attend to. Dese juvenile dealings make me weary. I don't like being weary." Frankie grimaced with bared teeth and jabbed his index finger straight at the camera, making Sly jump at the violence of the motion. "Don't annoy me!" Frankie made a cutting motion at Sly with the side of his hand at his throat to signal the end of the taping session, but he also intended it to be a subtle threat to the boys.
Sly immediately ran up and gave Frankie a high five. "Too cool," he complimented. "I'll switch tapes during gym, and they won't know what hit them. Everyone will see it at the same time. Of course the stupid PE coach will be too busy romancing that ugly Ms. Perkins. Why does he even bother?"
"Have you seen his wife?" Frankie sniffed.
Sly frowned, but broke out into peals of laughter when he finally understood the joke. Both boys turned toward the door when Nikolas entered again. "What's so funny?" he asked curiously. "Hi Sly."
"Hi Nikolas. How's it going? It was nice to see you this morning."
Nikolas shrugged and gave Sly a pained look. "How can you stand that?"
"The bus isn't so bad. I sit with Maxie."
"Yeah, I noticed. I'd count that as a benefit for sure."
Frankie watched the camaraderie of the two boys and became enraged at being left out of the conversation. When Nikolas mentioned Maxie, he jumped from his chair. "You bastard. You don't talk about my girl," he shouted, waving a finger in Nikolas' direction.
"Worried about keeping your woman, pipsqueak? Maybe she needs some lessons from an older man." Nikolas laughed, and Sly's mouth hung open. "Hey," he protested. Sly didn't like anyone talking about Maxie like that.
Frankie hopped in Nikolas' direction, all ready to use his fists against his older brother if necessary.
"Hey, guys, come on," Sly said nervously as he noted the looks on their faces and the extreme vibe that soon filled the room. Nikolas took one menacing step toward Frankie, and Sly tried to step between them as fists were raised. He placed his restraining hands in the direction of the two brothers, but misjudged the moment and stepped in at the wrong time.
Frankie drew his fist back and let it fly with all of his might. Sly didn't make a sound as his face whipped sharply to the side, and his body collapsed to the floor. Sly's hand immediately flew to his left eye, and he groaned, "Oh god, oh god," in pain. He rolled on the floor in agony as Frankie and Nikolas both looked on in horror.
"Sly?" Frankie asked in a soft, careful voice. "I didn't mean ta, I mean...Sly?" His eyes misted, and he sniffed loudly.
Nikolas knelt by Sly as Frankie was unable to with his bad leg. "Hey, let me see you. How bad is it?"
Sly was crying, and he pushed Nikolas' hands away as he tried to rise from the floor and scoot away at the same time.
"It's your fault!" Frankie screamed at Nikolas. In his anger and fear, he forgot about his bad leg and made a rush for his brother. Instead of landing a satisfying punch, he tripped over Sly's legs and began falling himself except that Nikolas reached out in time to break his descent. Frankie wasn't very heavy, and Nikolas easily lifted him up by the arms and dragged him back to the wheelchair, where he seated him. Frankie frowned and huffed and puffed out of exhaustion.
Nikolas helped Sly up from the floor and leaned in to look at his face. Sly's cheeks were covered with tears, and Nikolas had to remove his hand to get a look at the eye. Nikolas whistled. "You have one hell of a shiner there. It's swelling rapidly. Can you open it?"
Sly shook his head.
"I'm sorry," Frankie said in a small voice.
"Shut up!" Sly yelled back. "Just shut up you and your stupid macho temper! Leave me alone!"
Nikolas placed an arm around Sly and ignored Frankie as the two boys walked out of the door slowly. "We'll put some ice on that," Nikolas offered.
Frankie sat for a minute in the chair, full of anger, betrayal, fear and upset. Finally, he rolled over to the bathroom and opened the top of the tank to the toilet, retrieving the bottle of vodka that he'd hidden. After wiping it off, he drank deeply and repeatedly until the hurt feelings started to blur and recede. Capping the bottle, he hid the remainder of the liquor.
Frankie hadn't drunk alcohol in two weeks and usually not liquor, so he felt very buzzed and woozy as he rolled the chair back into the room. "Maxie?" he asked in surprise.
Maxie was seated in the rocking chair, rocking away and smiling broadly. "Surprise!"
Frankie grinned and wheeled over to her. "Wow," he stated. "I found out where you were and decided to come visit. Sly was supposed to meet me at the front door, but I got tired of waiting. One of the servants told me where to find you." Her blue eyes sparkled at Frankie and charmed him to the core.
"I love dose surprises," he murmured with a slight slur as he ran his eyes over his girlfriend. He looked down at his clothes. "See?" he gestured. "No more gowns. I'm a real guy now."
"You look nice in black," Maxie concurred. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Your eyes look a little glassy. Are you feeling okay now?"
Frankie laughed and gave her a lopsided grin. "Never better. Come here. Feel my sweatshirt. It's real soft." He motioned toward Maxie with his hand directed to his wheelchair.
Maxie sat in Frankie's lap and looked down into his fiercely blue eyes. "Cutie," she said.
"Dat's me," Frankie said in a low voice as he pulled her closer. He wrapped his hands around Maxie's waist and hungrily kissed her lips. Maxie responded, and the two spent several minutes kissing each other in greeting. Maxie felt herself floating in a sea of pleasure and thought she'd die if she didn't come up for air. When Maxie broke the kiss, she laughed as Frankie placed her hand on his chest. "Soft," he said with a glint in his eye. He'd never felt hornier in his life kissing this girl endlessly, and the alcohol revved up his engine by several notches. He brought his lips to hers with an intensity that she'd never felt before, and a feeling of being overwhelmed began to threaten her slightly. Frankie moved her hand under the sweatshirt to his chest and showed her how he wanted her to stroke him. Frankie of course was hoping that she'd allow him to reciprocate, and he began making soft noises as his imagination ran away with him. He shifted uneasily in his chair, noting the potential disadvantages of wearing snug jeans. Frankie began running his hand over Maxie's back and arms, distracting her as he kissed her with deep intensity, their tongues intertwining and jousting wildly. As he continued their deep kiss, he moved in for the kill and ran his hand over Maxie's breast. He felt bolder when she didn't resist, and he smiled against her lips.
His joy was short-lived when Sly suddenly banged into the room and reached for the camcorder that he'd left behind. "I'm going," he announced. "You're a jerk." Sly paused at the doorway. "Not you, Maxie, Frankie I mean." Sly slammed the door, and Maxie hopped up from Frankie's lap, mortified at being caught and now totally not in the mood.
~*~*~*~
Sly grumbled to himself as he walked with the camcorder. His eye hurt horrendously, and he wondered if he'd be maimed for life. The ice that Nikolas had given him to place over his eye seemed to do nothing to help, so he'd decided to head home.
Unbeknownst to Sly and Frankie, the machine had never been turned off. Sly continued to walk away from Wyndemere as the videotape ran, recording every motion of his gait and reflecting the trees, and sky and feet, and..."