Chapter Fifty

Luke's lips twitched as he tried in vain not to show amusement at his son's grand performance. He lost his battle and laughed loudly, wiping his tears with the corner of a paper napkin while Frankie glared at him.

"What's so funny?"

"You," Luke replied as he shook his head. He draped his forearm over his forehead and dramatically raised his eyes to the ceiling as he sighed pitifully. "Oh woe is me, I need my medications."

Frankie turned a shade of red unbecoming to his facial features. He clenched his fist and pounded it on the table. "Stop making fun of me!" he ordered. He felt his eyes near tears, and he sniffed loudly as he looked down at his lap to compose himself.

"Stop trying to manipulate me," Luke responded firmly as he directed his gaze at his angry son. "You're going with me to the high school to straighten out this mess that you and Sly have concocted. There's no avoiding it. Come on." Luke stood up at the table and reached into his wallet to leave a tip for the waitress. He glanced at Frankie's plate, which still had a few French fries left on it. "Are you finished?"

Frankie pushed away the plate with an annoyed hand. "Not hungry now," he said glumly as he shot an angry look at Luke. Frankie was used to getting what he wanted, and Luke's refusal to buy into his game was inconvenient. Frankie had no desire to involve himself in this mess, but it was too late to back out now. The deed was done, and Sly had been caught. His face was on that tape - there was no denying it. He'd have to consider damage control measures during the drive to the high school.

Luke laid a light hand on his son's shoulder as he reached behind Frankie to pull his wheelchair from the table. "I have your pain medication with me. Do you need any before we head out?"

Frankie shook his head. "No," he answered morosely. "I'm fine."

~*~*~*~

"Now's the time to talk," Luke stated firmly as he was driving away from the restaurant. "I don't want to be blindsided by the principal when I go in there. I want you to tell me what happened. What did you and Sly do with that camcorder that you borrowed from me?"

Frankie was sitting in the passenger's seat next to Luke, and he sharply turned his head to look at his father. Surprise was splashed over his face, and Luke didn't fail to notice.

"How dumb do you think I am?" Luke asked as he made a disgusted sound. "I didn't just fall off the turnip truck you know."

"What's a turnip truck?" Frankie asked seriously, more to bide his time and think than to ask out of pure curiosity.

"It's an expression meaning I've been around long enough to see through bullshit," Luke replied with exasperation. "No more stalling. What did you do?"

Frankie looked down at his hands folded in his lap and twirled his thumbs around. "I'm da enforcer," he mumbled so quietly that Luke had a hard time hearing him. He kept his head bent down and didn't look directly at his father.

"Enforcer?" Luke asked for clarification. "What are you talking about? Does this have to do with the gym class that you and Sly were complaining about the other day?"

By this time, Frankie's quick mind had reviewed and rejected all possibilities of escape or deflection. There simply was no way out of this one since his face was so prominently displayed on the tape. What he didn't know was the extent of his performance or that Sly and Maxie were on there as well. "En-for-cer," he repeated more slowly for his father who might be hard of hearing. "Da guys in gym are outta control. Somebody's gotta keep 'em in line. Dey respected me, so I was da one. With me gone, dey got cocky. Somebody had to remind dem of da hierarchy, see?"

"Oh yeah, now I see," Luke retorted. "I have two sons. One's the Enforcer, and the other one's his henchman. Why did you take it upon yourself to control a classroom? That's what the teacher is paid for."

Frankie face screwed up. "Nah, he's paid ta sleep. Somebody had to be in charge."

"And naturally that's you."

"Sure thing. I got da ability. Can't hide dat," Frankie explained without pride as he looked down at his nails and sniffed. "It natural. Dat's what everybody says. Can't control destiny."

Luke shook his head wordlessly and fumed. "But destiny is going to control you, like it or not. There are rules to abide by. You've broken them, and now you and Sly are going to suffer the consequences. Don't expect me to bail you out of this one. I don't appreciate you boys borrowing my equipment to threaten other people. It's not acceptable. Period."

Frankie shrugged and glanced out the window.

"Piece of advice," Luke stated as his eyes swept over Frankie, catching his behavior. "Lose the attitude before we reach the principal's office. It's going to give you nothing but trouble."

Frankie's face turned red as he reflected on Luke's words and felt peevishness build within. He didn't like anyone telling him what to do, but maybe Luke was right. He'd have to try a different angle and play it by ear as he went along.

~*~*~*~

"Wait," Frankie said firmly as Luke started wheeling him toward the school entrance. When Luke bent toward his son, Frankie fiercely whispered, "I'm packing. I gotta put da gun in da car." Luke's face tightened, and he nodded. Another pistol to add to the glove compartment. I forgot he had more than one. Good thing the doctors didn't get blown away. Luke opened the passenger's side door, and Frankie looked left and right with suspicious eyes as he pulled up his pant leg and peeled down his sock to reveal a lethal little pistol only several inches long. He removed the metal object and threw it casually into the glove compartment.

"If that's loaded, you might want to be a little more careful how you throw it around," Luke said in a parental tone. Frankie rolled his eyes and leaned back into the chair, clapping his hands on the armrests. "Ready," he said with a resigned sigh.

~*~*~*~

Frankie sat up higher and pulled his shoulders back to give himself more presence as Luke wheeled him through the hallways of the school. It embarrassed him to be seen in the wheelchair and accompanied by his father, as if he were weak and not able to take care of himself. He cautiously glanced at the students from the corners of his eyes to ensure that no one was staring at him. One or two people whispered and pointed at him but stopped talking when Frankie cast them a murderous glare.

Eventually, it sank into Frankie's brain that no one was interested in him at all, and it made him feel isolated and lonely, a nonentity amidst the sea of laughing, joking students. He'd only been able to attend school for two brief weeks before being called home to Atlantic City during spring break. Frankie looked up at the bulletin board outside of the administration offices, the bright streamers of ribbon announcing dances and other social activities that he'd never be able to attend. He couldn't have a public relationship with Maxie, nor was he safe to be around with the contracts out on his life. Would he ever sit in the planetarium again?

"Here we are," Luke said tensely. "Be cool."

"Always," Frankie replied imperiously as Luke wheeled him into the principal's office.

"Mr. Spencer?" the secretary asked as she looked down her nose at the father and son that were the subject of much discussion that morning. "They're waiting for you," she stated when Luke nodded. Luke followed the woman into the principal's seat of power and looked around in surprise at five faces rather than the two he was expecting.

There was a group of four people sitting in chairs facing the principal's desk with faces ranging from stoic to terrified to tearful to pissed off. Luke parked Frankie against a side wall and leaned against the wall himself as there were no more available chairs in the medium sized office. Frankie looked at his companions with a steady wariness as he tried to assess the situation that presented itself.

The principal was a fiftyish black male with an annoyed look on his rigid face and impatient fingers that tapped a pencil on his wooden desktop. Sly sat slumped and pale in his seat, with his hair on end and looking as if he were being tortured. What really made Frankie's heart race was the presence of a tearful Maxie flanked by her parents - Felicia with the stoic face and Mac with the pissed off expression that made his eyes narrow and his cheeks flush with color as he regarded the boy he considered nothing better than a cheap hood and a danger to his stepdaughter. Frankie tried to capture Maxie's eyes with his fervent gaze, but she merely looked down at the tense fingers folded into her lap and occasionally swiped at a new tear that threatened to escape.

"Let's start now that we're all here," the principal stated in his booming, deep bass voice. "Mr. Spencer, will you please close the door?" He folded is hands and settled into a stern look as he picked up the black plastic cased videotape and waved it in the air. "Mr. Spencer, did you know that your two sons, Sylvester Eckert and Frankie DeMarco, filmed a videotape threatening students in my school?"

"Spencer," Luke's and Frankie's voices chimed in together. Father and son smiled at each other.

The principal looked confused as he shuffled some papers. "I have him here as Frankie DeMarco."

"His name is Spencer," Luke intoned. "Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior, nicknamed Frankie. We haven't had the opportunity to inform the school about the particulars, just that his mother, Laura Cassadine, and I are his legal guardians."

The principal snorted and directed a fiery gaze at Luke. "This casual name and guardian changing is highly irregular."

"I agree," Luke stated.

"Regardless, we're here to discuss this serious incident." The principal directed a finger at Maxie. "Ms. Jones is a victim in this as well. Upon viewing this, I decided to inform her parents of their daughter's presence on the tape."

Frankie leaned in toward Luke and whispered. "We were making out. I guess Sly forget to turn off the camcorder."

The principal glared at Frankie. "Silence," he said gruffly.

Frankie sat up straighter in his wheelchair with a solemn, tight expression on his face. Man, dis guy is a hardass. I'm gonna have to act all contrite with him. He's out for da blood. Frankie directed his eyes again to Maxie. Oh, Maxie. She's so upset. Look all of dose tears. What am I gonna do? And dat Mac dude wants to fry my ass. I can tell. Dis is getting complicated fast. Frankie glanced at the nameplate on the principal's desk. Mr. Chamberlain looks like he's gonna explode. I better do damage control.

Frankie cleared his throat. "Mr. Chamberlain," he spoke in a low, measured tone. "I can explain. The gym class was..."

"I'll ask the questions," the principal quickly stated, cutting Frankie off.

Frankie's eyes widened, and he shut his mouth. Dang. I can't even use da eloquence tactic with dis dude.

The principal cast his gaze to Sly. "Mr. Eckert, why did you take it upon yourself to produce this film and why did you think it was acceptable to sneak it into the class, replacing the correct video?"

Sly opened his mouth, but no words emerged as his terror dried up his tongue. "Uh, uh," he started. "The guys were out of control. We had to stop them. They were hurting people - pushing them down, smacking them around."

"Are we talking about you?" the principal asked flatly.

Sly shrugged. "No, well, yes, I guess. Sometimes."

The principal wagged a finger at Frankie. "And this boy over here was your protector."

Sly nodded and looked down at the floor.

The principal's piercing gaze refocused on Frankie. "What makes you think you have the right to threaten people? You made some pretty damaging comments on this tape. Disappearances, threats of physical violence. Is this what you're accustomed to?"

Frankie nodded slowly. "Yes," he answered honestly.

Mac snorted derisively and shifted in his chair. "He's a common criminal, a mobster! The PCPD and the FBI both have been trying to lock him up! Why is he allowed in a school anyway? And why is he near my daughter?" Mac cast a murderous glance toward Luke and held the stare. "I don't want your son within ten feet of my daughter - ever. If I have to, I'll have the courts issue a restraining order."

Luke felt his face freeze up into a grim, steely mask as he met Mac's eyes and held the gaze as long as it was offered.

"I'm not concerned about your children's social lives outside of this school," the principal intoned. "I am concerned that this physical intimacy was recorded and broadcast to a gym full of twenty-five teenaged boys. It's a violation of this young lady's privacy and inappropriate to be shown in public."

"I didn't mean to," Sly protested shrilly. "Honest. I forgot to turn off the camcorder. It was on after I left. I didn't see the tape before it was shown. I'm sorry Maxie. Please don't hate me." Sly's large teary eye, the one that was not black and blue, searched out Maxie's face. She glanced at him and gave him the briefest twitch of a smile before sighing deeply with embarrassment at the topic of her makeout session with Frankie.

The principal ignored Sly and continued. "I find it interesting, Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior, that you have allegations of criminal activity directed toward you. You were very careful, too careful I'd say, to toe the line in your eloquent speech. There are many implications in your words, but no overtly criminal threats. I'd say you are very used to eluding the authorities, very adept." The principal templed his fingers and batted them against his lips as he appeared lost in thought. "I've already decided upon Mr. Eckert's punishment. Sylvester, you've been suspended from school for a period of two weeks. You'll be expected to follow your studies at home during that time. But what shall we do with you, Mr. Spencer?" The principal's small, brown eyes bore holes into Frankie's defensive posture, and the boy seemed to visibly sag under the influence. "Is suspension enough for you?"

Frankie gulped and shot a glance at Luke, who waited quietly and unemotionally for the principal's judgment.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kick you out of school and never allow you to return. I'm considering expulsion. Change my mind if you can."

Frankie blinked rapidly and cast a worried look in Maxie's direction. I won't be able to have lunch with Maxie no more. I gotta talk my way outta dis. I can do it. I know I can. "Sir," he began in his best eloquent voice, full and melodious and tinged with sincerity. "I understand your dilemma. This is a serious infraction, and you are unsure of my motivations."

A look of surprise flooded the principal's features as he listened to Frankie's cultured, very adult speech.

"I wish to redeem myself. I apologize for stepping out of line and superceding the established hierarchy. It won't happen again. I've enjoyed school and wish to continue." Frankie was uncertain how the eloquence tactic was working with the principal, and he tried another route just in case. His eyes filled with tears, just a few for maximum effect, and he fiddled with his hands as he tried his best to look humble. "I like the planetarium and my astronomy class. Please don't take them away from me. Maybe I want to become an astronomer one day. Don't take that opportunity from me. I want to succeed." Frankie blinked back his tears and sighed pitifully as he looked down at the floor in his shame.

Luke stirred beside his son and tried his best to keep his face impassive when he was dying to burst out in laughter. Frankie my boy, that was almost believable. Let's hope Mr. Chamberlain is more gullible than I think he is.

The principal stared hard at Frankie, unsure of the boy's true motivations.

"I'm sorry," Frankie said with a tear choked voice. His lips reddened and quivered with his Oscar caliber emotional portrayal. "I know I don't deserve to go to school, but please let me stay."

The principal slapped the desk with the flat of his palm as he rose from his chair, making the room's occupants jump. "Call me the world's biggest chump. I don't know if I'm witnessing a heartfelt plea or a titanic sized con. But okay. No expulsion for you. You are suspended for two weeks, and like Mr. Eckert, are expected to complete your studies and homework at home."

"Figures," Mac mumbled under his breath.

Frankie jumped up from his chair and shook the startled principal's hand. "Thank you," he said enthusiastically. "You won't regret it."

"Why am I regretting it already?" the principal questioned as he shook his head and returned to his seat.

Frankie cleared his throat. "Um. I need dat tape back."

When the principal frowned darkly, Frankie shrugged and said softly, "For Maxie." Frankie's solicitous blue eyes met the principal's suspicious brown ones. "She don't need no tape hanging over her head." The principal nodded, and Frankie picked up the black case, pulled hard at the tape and wound it around the cassette, thereby destroying it. He hopped two steps over to Maxie and gently laid it in her lap. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Please believe me," he said softly as he relished the closeness of his girlfriend, even under the present hostile circumstances. "Don't cry."

Maxie nodded slightly and gripped the tape in her soft hand. She was humiliated and didn't raise her eyes to return Frankie's earnest gaze. Felicia watched the interchange and wondered at this tough boy's obvious tender feelings for her daughter. She warmed up to him a notch in approval over his honest display of affection and concern. Mac wasn't having any of it and said sternly, "Move away from Maxie. You're not to approach her ever again."

Frankie stood on his one leg, uncertain what to do or say. He tried to turn around when the principal concurred with Mac. "Stay away from Ms. Jones when you return to school," he ordered in a booming voice. "I think her father has made that clear."

Frankie bit down hard on his teeth to keep from saying something bold or outrageous, even though that was his first inclination. Luke stepped over to his son and took him by the shoulder, helping him to the wheelchair as he noticed that Frankie was starting to sway.

~*~*~*~

"Luke," Frankie's strangled voice sounded from the back seat of the car. "Can I have something to drink? I need my pain pills. I shoulda taken 'em at lunch. It's been too long. I'm hurtin' real bad."

Luke frowned at Frankie's tone of voice. "There's a fast food drive-thru around the corner. I'll get you something there. Sly? Do you want anything?"

"Yeah, a milkshake, chocolate."

Luke chuckled. "And why should I buy you a treat when you're persona non grata at PCHS?"

"Because I'm a growing boy?" Sly stated angelically as he smiled broadly.

"Oh, you're growing all right," Luke snorted. "You're a growing pain in my posterior. What am I going to do with you boys? No more mischief. My heart can't take it."

Sly teased Luke by faking a heart attack and gripping his chest as he coughed harshly and stuck out his tongue.

"Go right ahead. Make fun of a man when he's old and gray," Luke said. "Hey, Frankie, why aren't you joining in the festivities? It's make fun of the old man day." Luke glanced into the rear view mirror and frowned when he noticed that Frankie was sprawled on his side in the back seat with a look of pain splashed on his face. You weren't kidding me when you said you were in pain. Luke pulled into the parking lot of the fast food restaurant and parked the car. "Sly. I want you to go into the restaurant and buy us two soft drinks and your milkshake. I'll stay here with Frankie. Go on. Here's a ten dollar bill. That should be enough and more." Luke pulled out his wallet and handed the bill to Sly. "Be quick if you can."

After Sly left the car, Luke exited the driver's seat and opened the back door. "Hey, sport," he said gently as he shook Frankie's leg. "How's it going back here?"

Frankie's eyes were screwed shut, and he held a hand over his abdomen. He didn't answer as he was concentrating on his breathing to try to relieve his pain.

"Is it your stomach?" Luke asked worriedly. He placed a hand on Frankie's side and quickly removed it when Frankie jerked. "Yeah," Frankie said in a small voice. "And da hip."

Luke gently pushed Frankie's legs to the side and sat down in the back seat beside his son. He pulled up Frankie's sweater and placed his fingers on the straps of the bulletproof vest. "I'm going to loosen this. It's awfully tight."

"No," Frankie whined. "I need da protection."

"You're fine in the car," Luke pointed out as he unfastened the straps. "Let me see." He lifted the sweater further and separated the vest from his son's torso, feeling his stomach drop at the copious red smears on the garment and over Frankie's stomach. "You're bleeding," he said. "You've pulled the stitches on your abdominal wound, and it looks red and puffy over the entire area." Luke unfastened the straps on the other side of the vest and loosened it some more after he positioned Frankie onto his back. Frankie began to cry silently, and Luke said, "Hey. Sly will be back in a minute. We'll give you your pain pills. You'll be okay. I think you've had a long, hard day. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go back to the new house with me for awhile, but I don't know if you're up to it."

"I wanna go home," Frankie replied tearfully.

"I'll drive you back to Wyndemere," Luke said quietly.

"I got work to do," Frankie whined.

"I want you to rest if you're feeling this bad," Luke stated as he rubbed Frankie's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "I'll find your physician when we return and have him check you out."

Frankie didn't reply, but rubbed hard on his hip.

Sly returned with the drinks and set them on the hood of the car after handing Luke a soft drink for Frankie. "I bought him a milkshake, too, in case he wants one," Sly offered helpfully.

"Thank you, Sly." Luke offered two pills to Frankie, who placed them in his mouth. He carefully pulled Frankie to a sitting position and held the straw to his lips. Frankie sipped several times and sighed as Luke placed him back down on the seat. "Do you want a milkshake?" he asked his son. "Sly bought an extra one just in case." Frankie shook his head and closed his eyes. "Okay. I'm going to drive you to Wyndemere. Just lay back and rest."

~*~*~*~

Luke stood outside of the closed door to Frankie's suite at Wyndemere and spoke with Dr. Hill. "You have the doctors' reports from his visit today. At least his lung problems aren't as serious as we'd feared."

Jerry nodded as he flipped through the pages. "It's pretty much along the lines of what I'd suspected. The pulmonary doc's recommendations are on the mark. I'm going to prescribe Frankie an antidepressant. I think it'll help more than just his hyperventilation problems. He is showing some symptoms of depression, and it's good to nip that in the bud."

"What about his abdomen?" Luke asked worriedly. "He was bleeding."

Jerry laughed lightly. "Between the huge lunch he ate and the tight vest, he smooshed himself."

A startled, bemused look ran over Luke's features. "Why, doctor, that's such a high tech term - smooshed."

Jerry shook his head and grinned. "It's descriptive. He's not used to eating so much food, and his stomach expanded, which jarred his internal injuries when the vest held him in. Just make sure he eats smaller, more frequent meals rather than one or two large ones. I repaired his stitches, and he'll be fine."

~*~*~*~

Frankie held the cell phone to his ear while he continued to rub his sore hip. The healing process brought lots of pain with it, and even with the extra pain medicine the doctor had given him, there were some residual aches. Frankie decided that it was a good time to call Sonny Corinthos as the pain made him feel edgy and impatient, a man to be reckoned with. Corinthos wouldn’t dare treat him like a kid if he came on strong.

"Yeah," Sonny answered the phone with his characteristic lack of manners.

"Frank Smith Junior calling," Frankie intoned gravely, careful to use his former last name, which had the lethal power associated with it. "We got some business to finish."

Sonny laughed derisively. "So we finally speak. No more middle men or bodyguards named Johnny."

Frankie's hand gripped the phone tighter as his temper rose. "I make all final deals," he explained as if to a toddler. "I'm too busy of a man to initiate phone conversations. That's why I have associates, ya know. Or with the caliber of your associates, perhaps you don't understand."

Jason's face tightened into a sour expression and his crew cut bristled as he listened in on the other phone. I'll get that punk one of these days. Payback time.

"Are you going to waste my time trying to impress me?" Sonny wondered aloud. Jason shot him a smirk as a satisfied look creased Sonny's face.

"Would you rather die a horrible, slow death or do you wanna buy my business for the price you offered?" Frankie replied haughtily. "Me? Right now, I'd prefer to blow your greasy head off. But my business manager would rather see a dollar. Bloody head on a platter or a dollar?" Frankie sighed deeply as if he had a hard time making up his mind. "It's so hard to decide. Why don't you convince me how badly you want my businesses?"

Sonny's jaw clenched and his dark eyes flashed dangerously as he fought the temptation to tell the kid off. Frank's son was every bit the bastard his old man had been. Perhaps the only way to deal with Junior was to dish out the same end that Senior had met. Sonny toyed with the idea of a murderous double cross in his mind as the bile rose in his stomach. He'd been successful in maintaining his business without competition until the Smith organization had come snooping around. It bothered him to no end that a fifteen year old kid had him by the balls and was threatening to cut them off no less. "I made you an offer," Sonny replied gruffly. "What is your answer?"

Frankie let a pregnant pause invade the phone lines as he waited while Sonny squirmed. Make dat bastard wait. He don't deserve da business anyway. He adjusted the phone to his ear and announced gleefully. "Today's your lucky day, bastard. I have accepted your piddley offer for my businesses. May you rot in hell. Prepare a cashiers check for da agreed upon amount. No stupid suitcase filled to da brim with friggin' cash. We'll meet tomorrow. Oh, and no funny business. I can smell it a mile away. I have a bullet in my gun with your name on it. It would be happy to take residence in your brain. Don't forget dat."

Jason motioned at Sonny, making cutting slice with his hand at his throat as he shook his head. Sonny smiled broadly with deep dimples, but it never met the flat brown of his cunning eyes. "Oh, yes, Mr. Smith. We'll have it ready for you tomorrow, sir," he replied in a mocking tone.

"See dat you do," Frankie stated firmly. "Stay by da phone tomorrow morning. I'll call you with directions for da meeting place." Frankie hung up the phone without waiting for a response and looked sad and angry at the same time. And so it begins. He wheeled over to the station where he charged up his mother's phone and carefully replaced it.

~*~*~*~

3:58PM

"Thanks," Frankie said brightly while his father wheeled him to the elevator. "It's hard to push dis down da hallway on da oriental rugs. It slows me down. I gotta get downstairs before four o'clock." Frankie bounced lightly in the wheelchair and hummed a tune to himself while he waited in the elevator with Luke.

"Are you sure you're not too tired for more activities?" Luke asked. "I'm not trying to rain on your parade, but you were hurting pretty badly an hour or so ago."

"Ya," Frankie answered casually. "But I'm okay now. Just needed da meds."

Luke's eyes crinkled at the corners as he wheeled his son toward the back gardens. There was a concrete path leading away from the kitchen's back door, and the chair wheeled easily toward a slate veranda with outdoor furniture. "You seem quite excited, but you haven't told me what you want to see."

"It's a secret," Frankie whispered. "I can't wait." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation of actually petting a thoroughbred horse. "Did ya bring da carrots and apples?" he asked Luke. "I need dem."

"I take it you plan to feed something?" Luke asked as he handed the morsels to his son. "Is this Jeopardy? Do I have to keep guessing until I'm right?"

Frankie giggled. "Ya. Keep guessing. I'm not tellin'." He suddenly sat up high and rigid in his chair as he cupped his hand over his eyes to get a better view. "Look!" he shouted out. "It's coming!"

Luke laughed when he saw a majestic black horse in the distance running swiftly in their direction. Bless you, Nikolas, he thought. Good instincts, kiddo. Luke was careful not to mention that only a day or two ago Frankie had wanted to murder his half brother. Any progress toward a relationship was fine with him.

Frankie turned shy when Nikolas stopped the horse a few feet away from the veranda and took the reins in his hand to lead her toward his brother. Nikolas turned toward Luke and nodded his head in greeting as Luke smiled back. When the horse was only two feet away from him, the breath caught in Frankie's throat, and he hurriedly asked, "Help me up?" Luke lifted Frankie from the chair and steadied him. The boy reached out a tentative hand and exclaimed, "Wow," when he touched the horse's long, aristocratic nose. "She's soft."

"Did you bring her some treats?" Nikolas prompted.

Frankie grinned as he reached into his pocket for a carrot. "Here," he said as he held the carrot out to the horse. Sheba accepted the small carrot from Frankie's hand and soundly crunched it as her huge brown eyes watched him.

"Her eyelashes are so long," Frankie marveled as he stroked the length of her mane. "Pretty."

Sheba appeared content in Frankie's presence, and Nikolas commented, "She likes you. It's easy to tell how she feels."

"I like her, too." Frankie turned toward Luke and gave him a huge smile as his blue eyes twinkled. "Isn't she nice?"

"That she is," Luke agreed. "It's nice of you to bring her, Nikolas."

Nikolas smiled back at Luke and observed Frankie. He's never touched a horse before. I get so used to being with her everyday that I forget how wonderful she really is.

Frankie held out an apple piece in his palm and giggled when he felt the horse's lips move over his hand. "Ahahaha. She's hungry."

"Have you ever ridden a horse?" Nikolas asked.

"Nah. I only seen 'em from da box at da horse races. I won a bunch of races, though. I was a good gambler."

Luke rolled his eyes. I bet you were.

"We have some smaller horses and some older ones that I could teach you on when you're recuperated," Nikolas offered. "It's not hard to learn the basics of riding. You'll learn in no time I'm sure."

"Okay," Frankie agreed. He continued to stroke Sheba with a gentle hand, and the horse drank in his affection. "Dis is so cool."

After a few minutes, Nikolas noticed that Frankie seemed tired from the excitement and from standing on one leg, so he said, "Sheba needs her dinner. I'll ride her back now. I can bring her back again on another day if you want."

"Yeah," Frankie agreed readily. "I really like her."

Nikolas sat back in the saddle and rode the horse away from the veranda as Frankie watched intently. Luke helped Frankie back into the wheelchair and knelt in front of him. "That was nice," he said.

"Mmmhhmm," Frankie readily agreed.

"I had a nice day in spite of the videotape disaster," Luke offered. "Did you?"

Frankie nodded shyly.

"Hug?" Luke asked with raised eyebrows. Frankie smiled and held out his arms as Luke embraced him and ran a hand over his hair. He held Frankie for a minute as it seemed like his son wasn't skittish or eager to separate.

"Thanks, Dad," Frankie said softly.

Luke's heart skipped a beat when Frankie called him "Dad," instead of Luke. He didn't want to scare Frankie off by mentioning it in case it was an accident, so he merely hugged his boy tighter and said, "I love you, son."

~*~*~*~

6:45PM

Dinner was at eight o'clock, and Frankie felt at loose ends as he'd already finished his homework for the day. It was kiddie stuff anyway, not nearly as challenging as the work he'd completed in Frank's home. He opened his laptop and wished that Maxie had her own computer, so he could send her an email. But, the Scorpio-Jones household only owned a family computer, so that was a no-go. He tapped his fingers on the keyboard and brightened when an idea came to him. Flowers! He'd reactivated his credit cards recently with his recent name change, so money was no problem. His eyes scanned the choices, but he was drawn to the simple elegance of a dozen pink roses. Pretty, like Maxie. He completed the order and tapped a forefinger on his full lips as he thought of an appropriate message for the card.

Yours Always,

Lucas

Haha. Use da real name to fake 'em out. Will dey know I'm Frankie? Dat principal mentioned my real name in front of da hardass cop guy. Dang. Frankie frowned as he thought. Ah, I don't care. Maxie needs to know I'm still here.

As the minutes ticked away, and the clock registered seven PM, Frankie longingly eyed the cellphone that was conveniently recharged. Maxie's teary eyes kept haunting him, and he was desperate to speak to her, to reassure her that what was between them was supposed to be private and special. He picked up the phone and dialed her number. There were four of them in that house, and he had 50/50 odds that either Maxie or Georgie would answer. Either one would do. He held his breath and sucked in his lower lip as the anticipation built within him. Come on, come on. Answer Maxie.

"Hello?" the gruff, male voice answered.

Frankie's heart sank, and his thumb pressed the off button. Dey're guarding da phone. I'm not in school and neither is Sly. How can I talk to her?

~*~*~*~

7:30PM

Disappointment loomed over Frankie, and a sense of nervousness began haunting him. The big tradeoff of the business was tomorrow, and he hadn't bothered to inform Johnny as he still wasn't sure if he would murder Corinthos. Johnny wouldn't approve, so why bother telling him? That's what Frank would do. Murder Corinthos for his disrespect and then pick up the check without a second thought. Who was he anymore, anyway? He'd felt close to Luke today, close enough to outright call him Dad. But what about Frank? Didn't he still need Frank's example when conducting his business life? Stefan seemed to think that he could stand on his own and discard those teachings that made him uneasy, but that was unproven. So far, Frankie had been successful because of Frank's example. He felt like he had two feet planted on two different continents as the ocean raged between them. If he hopped entirely onto one continent, would he drown miserably? But he couldn't straddle these two worlds forever. It was impossible. Frankie recalled Luke hugging him that afternoon, and he'd relished the affection. But Frank had hugged him plenty of times before, too. He wasn't comfortable completely rejecting the only parent he'd known for his whole life. At one time, Frank had been his entire world and had eclipsed any other influence. Together, they'd wielded real power, and it had felt good to control his destiny and the lives of so many other people. Lately, he'd had no control at all. He couldn't see his girlfriend; they kicked him out of school. What was next?

Frankie held his head in his hands and gripped his hair anxiously, pulling on it and cursing as he rocked in his wheelchair. He decided he couldn't take it anymore inner conflict, and he wheeled abruptly toward the bathroom. He still had half a litre of vodka cooling in the toilet tank. He'd always drunk alcohol, preferably beer, when he was tense or upset. It had seemed to help in the past. Besides, he was having dinner with the family for the first time. He needed to get his emotions under control. He never considered the heavy dosage of pain medication that he'd received recently. The absence of physical pain had soon been replaced by another variety.

Frankie uncapped the bottle and drank deeply as if he were drinking water. He drank until he ran out of breath. He panted after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Again, he drank until the litre was only a quarter full. Soon, the familiar, comfortable feeling of fuzzy disconnectedness filtered throughout his body, and he sighed with relief. He didn't want to feel anything anymore - good or bad. He would be content to float along, watching the time go by and not dealing with his surroundings. It was better that way. It hurt too much to feel.

When Frankie wheeled back into his room, he noticed the crutches perched in the corner. He wasn't supposed to use them until he was instructed on the proper technique by the physical therapist. But when had he ever listened to an "expert?" Bore. Frankie reached up and used the crutches to pull himself up out of the chair. It was almost time for dinner, so he'd better get down there. He laughed when he felt the room sway slightly and pulled the crutches under his arm. I'll impress dem when I show up with dese instead of da chair, he thought as he attempted to maneuver around the room. When he easily moved the crutches across the smooth, wooden floors, he felt emboldened and crossed the threshold. He was headed to the elevator, but paused to stare down at the elaborate, curving stairway. One of dese days, he promised himself. The rubber tip of his right crutch caught stubbornly on the carpeting as he attempted to turn himself. He hadn't practiced that maneuver in the room - only going forward. His head went dizzy from the booze, and he felt himself slip away from his crutches, his body pitching forward with gravity and solidly landing on the third step down as his right crutch flew out ahead of him and banged its way down. He slid and tumbled down the carpeted stairs for what seemed like an eternity, his alcohol-filled body reacting elastically and giving no resistance. His arm whipped out and hit the wall as it met the curve in the stair, and he finally stopped falling when he flopped onto the landing. His head cracked hard enough against the floor to make him see stars, and he lay motionless, staring at the elegant, carved stair rails lined up in front of his stunned face.

Next chapter...