Chapter Fifty-Two

10:15 PM

It had been a long evening for Stefan. Frankie had become ill from mixing narcotics and alcohol, and he and Laura had spent an hour with the boy until they were certain he'd be all right. A light, late dinner had followed that interruption, and now it was time to retire to their chambers for the night.

As he walked down the hallway, Stefan paused at Nikolas' door. The kitchen staff mentioned to him that his son had requested a sandwich for his dinner and then left the area with his sandwich in hand. Stefan had assumed that Nikolas was locked away in his bedroom, deep in his studies. Nikolas had been particularly careful this year to keep his grades up as a university education beckoned within a year. Stefan was insistent that Nikolas' grades be stellar enough to allow him admission to the finest Ivy League schools. Scholarships were unnecessary, of course, because of the Cassadine wealth, but a quality American education would place Nikolas into the social circles that Stefan desired for his son. He still had visions of a charming Grace Kelly type ingénue for a future daughter-in-law, someone with a moneyed background and perhaps multigenerational ties to politics and major business.

Stefan knew that Nikolas was involved somehow in Frankie's latest mishap, and he wanted the precise details of how it had occurred. Stefan raised his hand to knock on Nikolas' door but hesitated. He was tired, and there would be plenty of time to talk to Nikolas tomorrow. Their conversation would wait another day.

~*~*~*~

Nikolas had unconsciously chosen a rather stealthy looking all black outfit for his escape. He was dressed in a black silk tee, black trousers and an accompanying black leather jacket. Even his suitcase was tasteful and discrete with its black, nylon fabric. He cut a rather dashing figure seated in the private Cassadine jet - tall, good-looking, his looks portraying a confident boy that was on the cusp of young manhood.

Nikolas' brown, almond shaped eyes swept around the cabin of the plane. He knew the contents by heart as this was the very jet that often flew him to the Cassadine Island in Greece. He rose from his seat and sauntered over to the snacks cabinet, laughing lightly in a delighted tone when he saw that it had been fully restocked. He bent over to open the small refrigerator and select a can of diet cola. With three potato chip bags in hand, he retook his seat.

The captain joined Nikolas and nodded in greeting. "We're ready, sir," he intoned respectfully. "Take off is in ten minutes."

Nikolas smiled slightly. "Good."

"Are you sure you don't wish to stop on Cassadine Island first?" the captain inquired. "That's the usual route."

Nikolas shook his head. "No. The Athens International Airport is my destination. I'll make a trip to the island at a later date." Did he buy it? Nikolas thought worriedly. Nikolas had reserved an immediate flight out of Athens - with reservations for two. Athena said she could make it to Athens in time. I hope she comes through.

"Very well, sir." The captain returned to the cockpit, and Nikolas let out a sigh of relief. The captain had believed every word he'd said, and Stefan wouldn't be informed about this flight until the jet returned to the states. That would leave Nikolas with plenty of time - provided Athena kept up her end of the bargain.

~*~*~*~

Next morning...

Frankie adjusted the sleeve of his dark, navy blue Armani suit. He'd pleaded his case to his mother, and she'd agreed to buy him several suits. Any man in the Cassadine household could use a wardrobe of suits, so it had seemed like a reasonable request to Laura.

Frankie smiled at himself in the long mirror, pleased with his mother's taste, which was so similar to his own. He cut a dashing figure in the lean lines that accentuated his shoulders and slim torso. Frankie dusted off a speck of lint from his left arm and paused to turn his wrist around. He tugged gently on the sleeve to expose the mechanism. The third gun that Frankie had requested from his associate was a very special gun indeed. Luke had impounded his larger, wicked looking gun, but Frankie still had the second gun secure in its usual location deep in his right sock. Frankie lightly stroked the cool metal frame that was firmly bound to the inside of his forearm. He briefly flexed the muscles in his wrist and laughed delightedly when a small automatic pistol shot down the frame and nestled into his palm ready to be fired - all in less than two seconds. No one would be able to detect the gun by reviewing his appearance or frisking him, and he didn't figure that Corinthos would have a metal detector installed in his condo. Frankie had chosen Corinthos' condo as the ideal location to meet as he knew that Corinthos would never soil his own nest by killing Frankie in the place where he lived.

Frankie's blue eyes glinted dangerously with a hard look as he practiced his moves. He had no qualms about messing up Corinthos' condo if necessary. He wasn't going to outright kill Corinthos, though. Frankie looked in the mirror again and took in his reflection, which was complete with pale, tense skin, dark circles under his eyes that added ten years to his appearance, and hard, blue eyes that betrayed his intimate knowledge about life and death matters. Nothing would get past those watchful eyes.

Frankie swiftly raised his arm and pointed the gun at the reflection. His full lips turned up into a knowing sneer.

~*~*~*~

Sly ran his fingers through his blond hair. His hair needed no attention, but his nerves demanded that he do something physical, and he fidgeted in the back seat of Alexis' car. Sly brushed off the pants that matched his suit blazer. Luke had bought him a nice charcoal gray suit for his court date. "An important event calls for a formal appearance," Luke had said. Father and soon to be son had purchased new suits together, and it had been fun driving the salesman and tailor nuts with their different physiques. They'd finally found Sly a nice suit that fit both his slender frame and impossibly long legs, and an athletic cut for Luke that enhanced his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The tailor had shaken his head when he had barely an inch of fabric to work with to create a hem for the boy's trousers. Sly had shrugged and beamed at Luke. Secretly, he'd been thrilled to look so handsome and put together. Bill had never bought him an outfit this nice, and he planned to impress Emily with his new appearance by taking her on a special date as soon as he was done with being grounded. Sly envisioned summoning the waiter of a fancy restaurant with a casual wave of his hand. The only drawback to this mode of dress was the infernal tie. Sly lightly adjusted the silky, choking fabric away from his neck. Alexis had tied it for him, and it looked so nice and neat - but if fit like a proper noose.

Luke turned around in the front seat and smiled at Sly. His eyes softened, and he said, "Countdown is thirty minutes. Are you ready?"

Sly nodded excitedly without speaking.

Luke's eyes twinkled as he smiled at the boy. "Me, too. I've wanted this for a long time."

~*~*~*~

Maxie actively missed Sly as she sat on the school bus. He'd been sitting with her for the past few weeks and was good company, pointing out interesting details in the passing landscape or asking her about classes or her family. She frowned as she recalled the eerie silence that had spread throughout the bus when she'd boarded a few minute earlier. Had that ever happened to her before?

Maxie's thoughts soon drifted to Frankie, as they often did. How could they make it for two weeks without seeing one another? The pink roses were still in beautiful bloom back at the house, and she'd marveled over his exquisite taste all morning as she dressed for school, pausing every minute or two to bend over and breathe in their heady fragrance. The only way it would have been better is if Frankie had handed the roses to her himself.

Frankie's hair is so soft, Maxie thought as her mind reminded her fingertips that they'd run through his luxuriant hair only days ago. But his lips are softer. She recalled his passionate kisses and shivered delightedly as a secret smile crossed her lips. She hugged herself as she looked out the window daydreaming. She didn't notice that every boy on the bus was staring at her intensely, making whispered comments to other boys and poking at one another with elbows as they tried not to snicker.

~*~*~*~

Frankie glanced at Johnny from the corner of his eyes while he ran his slender fingers along the leather armrest in his BMW. "I decided not to kill 'em," he spoke nonchalantly. "I got other plans for dem."

Johnny took his eyes off the road for a second to stare at Frankie. It unnerved him at times to hear comments like that from the mouth of a boy. Frankie always had a disconcerting way of appearing and sounding fully man yet fully boy all in one package. Right now, his neat Armani suit gave him a halo of manliness, but, his face still had softness to the cheek, and Johnny doubted that Frankie had much of a chore in the morning when it came to shaving. Johnny blinked when Frankie met his gaze. When had Frankie ever had normal eyes? They usually betrayed a deep sadness lurking beneath the glinting, lively bravado. Johnny cleared his throat and focused back on the road. "I'm glad you've decided against violence," he said lightly.

Frankie laughed evilly and banged the back of his head against the headrest. "Didn't say nothin' about violence, just dat I'm not gonna pop 'em today. Dat's why I called you about da meeting."

"Oh," Johnny intoned as he tried not to speculate on Frankie's ominous hints.

"I got caught last nignt," Frankie stated casually as he nibbled on his thumbnail and glanced out the car door window.

"Doing what?" Johnny questioned seriously.

"Drinking," Frankie replied. "I shouldn't of had da vodka with da narcotics. Dat's what Dr. Jerry said. I fell down da stairs and den threw up. Da parental figures were upset. And Nikolas shoes won't be da same again. I urped on top of dem. He was mad."

Johnny chuckled at Frankie's attitude and explanation. "Did you listen to the doctor?"

Frankie nodded and sighed. "How come Frank never told me about dis stuff? He said it was a good thing to drink dat beer. It seemed to help when I was in da hospital the first time and when I was upset. Dr. Jerry says it is harming me. Maybe it's why, um..." Frankie hesitated and looked down at his fingers as they gripped together on his lap. "Um, why I'm not taller dan dis. He said if I eat good now I might grow some more." The muscles in Frankie's cheek tightened. "I want to be taller," he added softly.

"That's good," Johnny encouraged.

Frankie shrugged. "I dunno. I like da beer."

"You can substitute something else for it," Johnny suggested. "Maybe cola or fruit juice."

Frankie laughed shortly and shook his head. "Dat's for kids," he scoffed. "Dat's what Frank said." Frankie's eyes looked hollow all of a sudden when he realized that not only had Frank misled him about drinking but that he wasn't around to have an opinion anymore. "I've always had da beer - as long as I can remember."

"You can develop new habits over time. You're smart and adaptable."

Frankie smiled slightly, but the smile faded as soon as he made it. "Dr. Jerry said I was smart and dat's why I could learn about da alcohol. All da associates drank. Good thing I'm getting rid of da illegal businesses. Nobody would respect me with a cola in my hand."

"I'm happy you're selling the illegal businesses," Johnny stated. "But, I'm not sure I agree about the respect. The associates respected you for your fine mind, your will and your determination. You're an achiever. Respect doesn't come from what you wear or what you drink. They admire you for who you are."

"Yeah," Frankie agreed. "Maybe you're right."

Johnny shot a glance at Frankie. He's learning. I feel hopeful for him for the first time in ages.

~*~*~*~

Nikolas laid his head to the side of the first class airplane seat. His black hair fell from his forehead and mixed with the luxuriant, curly black tresses of his companion, who was also asleep. Their heads were nodded toward one another, and her left hand was intertwined with his right hand. The stewardess didn't have the heart to disturb the young couple who were obviously so much in love. Several minutes earlier, she'd motioned silently to the other stewardess to look at them, and her flight partner had smiled broadly as her eyebrows rose in agreement. "Cute," she mouthed to the other woman.

~*~*~*~

Sly sat in between Luke and Alexis in the courtroom. The two adults had spent what seemed like an hour signing endless sheets of paper and passing them back and forth so they could both leave their signatures. Sly watched them swiftly move the pens over the legal documents, and he felt a sense of excitement building. The judge had said that he'd talk with them privately in his chambers, and that made Sly a little bit nervous as well. When all of the papers were finally collected, Alexis reached out and took Sly's hand into her own as she smiled broadly enough to reveal her generous dimples and happy, brown eyes. "This is exciting," she whispered at Sly. He smiled back and nodded when he squeezed her hand. "I know."

~*~*~*~

Johnny carefully parked the BMW on the curb in front of Sonny's penthouse building. He warily eyed the two guards who flanked either side of the door. The guards looked like they were ex-wrestlers, steroid bound, brainless idiots in need of a regular paycheck. Johnny patted his gun holster and sighed. He and Frankie had agreed to drive the BMW in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Its high powered engine had served that purpose more than one time, and Johnny wasn't sure that his 1978 Cadillac Fleetwood was reliable or fast enough for an escape, even if it looked like a cool car.

"Anything I should know before we enter the building?" Johnny asked one more time. He wasn't sure if Frankie were being totally up front with him or if he'd omitted an important detail.

"Nah," Frankie said. "We go in. We accept da check, flip 'em da bird and saunter out all easy like."

"I don't know about the middle finger part," Johnny replied. "Are you wearing your vest?"

Frankie nodded seriously. "Yeah. How 'bout you?"

Johnny nodded as well. "I want you to stay close to me," he warned.

"Oh, where am I gonna run off to in da wheelchair?" Frankie scoffed.

"Just the same, I don't trust those two," Johnny said.

"Me neither, but it'll be dere brains splattered on the wall, not mine, if it comes to dat." Frankie rubbed his arm with the hidden pistol. Two seconds and dey're dead, he reminded himself.

~*~*~*~

Unbeknownst to Johnny and Frankie, they'd been tailed to their meeting with Corinthos. A tall, heavyset man with a thick, black moustache leaned against the penthouse building and watched with narrowed eyes as Johnny set up Frankie's wheelchair on the sidewalk and helped the boy ease from the car seat to the chair.

After Johnny and Frankie entered the bricked, twenty-two storey building, the man whipped out his cell phone. "Yeah, it's Geraldo," he said heavily. "Dey went inside da building. What are your orders, Mr. Donado?"

~*~*~*~

Nikolas stretched and yawned loudly when the passenger seat belt sign was turned off. He jostled Athena's shoulder to wake her and twirled his fingers through her curls, playfully pulling them out and releasing them to spring back to shape. When she opened her eyes and frowned to protest, he leaned in and soundly kissed her on the lips. "We're here. We made it," he whispered contentedly. Athena smiled and reached out her hand to caress the side of Nikolas' cheek. "Thanks, Nikky," she murmured.

Nikolas walked out into the aisle and pulled their carry-on luggage from overhead. He unzipped one pocket and produced two passports, handing one to Athena. He raised one eyebrow to silently communicate to her that these were the fake ones that he'd procured for them in order to keep ahead of Stefan, who he'd feared would be able to trace their path with his connections to customs offices across the world.

~*~*~*~

The judge stood behind his desk and extended a friendly hand to Sly. "Sylvester Eckert Spencer. Nice to make your acquaintance."

Sly shyly shook the judge's hand while he blushed with embarrassment. "Thank you, sir. I mean, your honor."

The judge grasped his hands together and smiled at the three persons standing before him. "The adoption is now final. You are legally son, mother and father. This is a very special day." The judge looked at Luke and Alexis with admiration. He'd seen so many foster children languishing without families, and it was nice to see that this boy had been spared that trauma.

Sly leaned in to kiss Alexis' cheek and said, "Thanks, Mom." Alexis' large brown eyes teared, and she reached into her skirt pocket for the tissue that she knew she'd need. She couldn't resist and pulled Sly into a warm hug, stroking his hair and murmuring, "I love you, Sly." When they separated, Sly's green eyes directed toward Luke, and he smiled shyly. "Dad," he said as he began to grin. Luke sniffed and gave Sly a lopsided grin in return as he felt his eyes begin to tear as well. "I love you, too, Sly," he said with a choked voice as he grabbed Sly's hand and shook it man to man. "Come here, you," he growled as he gave Sly the bear hug of his life. When they separated, Sly held a hand to his chest. "Dad, you give the best hugs. Killer no-breather hugs."

Luke's eyebrows rose in amusement. "Only the best for my youngest son."

~*~*~*~

Frankie nervously tapped his fingers in a pseudo rhythm on the metal arms of his wheelchair while he and Johnny rode the elevator to the building's twenty-second floor penthouse. He rolled his eyes around the enclosed space, taking in the outline of the lighted floor number buttons and observing the suspicious splatter stains on the carpeting. Blood?

Johnny stood stiff and impassive behind Frankie's chair as he assumed his mob protector persona that was never too far from the surface when he was near Frankie. Every sharp instinct was honed by years of successful service, and his face wore a bored expression.

Frankie adjusted himself in the wheelchair so that the creases on his suit trousers would appear impeccable. Frankie was a believer in the power of bright white shirts, and his was perfect, not a wayward crease or speck was visible. He'd skipped breakfast that morning to prevent any accidents from occurring - from either food or upchucking. He had no intention of being upstaged by the likes of Sonny Corinthos in any manner, including physical appearance. He knew that Sonny fancied himself a ladies' man and wore expensive, dressy clothing, usually a dark suit and matching silk shirt without a tie. A small smile creased Frankie's face and his eyes glittered with malice as he anticipated his first face to face meeting with the man who would buy his businesses and leave him a richer man than he already was in his own right. He started to crack his knuckles but thought better of it when he remembered that his hidden pistol was triggered by the motion of his wrist muscles. No reason to go to the hassle of pushing back the gun under the arm of his jacket. He had thought of everything down to the finest detail. He was ready.

The elevator door opened to the twenty-second floor and the waiting attention of two burly bodyguards with small, beady eyes and slicked back hairdos. Had it been the 1930's, they would be wearing broad brimmed fedora hats, looking the part of the famous movie gangsters. But, these gangsters were the 1990's variety and wore simple black suits with zero head coverings. Johnny eyeballed the guards and momentarily tensed up in preparation for a split second grab at his gun if necessary.

"Mr. Corinthos is expecting you," the taller man with dark, shiny hair intoned. He motioned toward the penthouse door with a thick, muscular hand. The steroid enhanced guard at the door tapped lightly on the surface and entered. Several seconds later, he emerged and wordlessly held the door open so that Johnny could wheel in his boss.

Frankie's face was set into a hard mask. Frank would be proud of him as he presented himself as a man to be reckoned with. Anyone would think twice before crossing someone with the presence and arrogance that projected from the slight, handsome young man decked out in an Armani suit.

Sonny was only feet away from the door, and he walked up with an extended hand. "Frank Smith Junior, I presume?" he asked respectfully as his brown eyes registered every detail about Frankie, including his rate of respiration.

Frankie ignored Sonny's hand with a sniff and gave him a look that he usually reserved for lower level associates who forgot their places in the hierarchy. His piercing blue eyes met Sonny's dark ones with an unrelenting intensity that made a shiver go down Sonny's spine. Prick! The kid is as awful as I'd ever imagined Frank Smith Senior would be. He cleared his throat nervously and took one step back. Maybe I should have had the guards frisk them and remove any weapons. I know this brat has to be packing heat from the looks of him.

"What happened to you?" Sonny asked in a futile attempt at polite conversation as he pointed at Frankie's bad leg, which was positioned higher than the other.

"We're not here to discuss my health, or yours," Frankie stated firmly. "Do you want to do business?" When Sonny nodded, Frankie replied, "Okay den." His eyes glared at Jason, who had moved forward and boldly displayed his gun holster in a clumsy move.

"You pay somebody to do dat?" Frankie asked as he made a harsh cutting motion at his hair in imitation of a corner barber hacking away at Jason's crew cut hair. "Or was it an accident?"

Jason's teeth ground together. "I ought to kick your ass for what you did to me."

Frankie's eyebrows lifted in innocence as he tried not to laugh. "Me? And what did I do to you? You had a dorm full of girls and didn't get laid? Not my fault Romeo - or is it Juliet?"

Jason grunted harshly and moved his hand to his holster as he made a quick move toward Frankie. Both Johnny and Sonny stepped in quickly to intervene, each taking hold of one of Jason's arms. "I'm okay," Jason gritted out as he shook off their grips and walked over to a couch, plopping down into its leathery depths with a squeaky thud. When Jason caught Frankie's eye, he flipped him the bird. Frankie blew him a kiss, and Jason turned beet red.

Frankie quickly grew tired of the games and went straight to business. "When you hand over da cashier's check, den da businesses are yours free and clear. I'll pick up da cell phone and tell da associates dat you're da new boss. It's all yours and your responsibility - good or bad - from here on out." Frankie paused and rubbed his chin as he straightened his shoulders and stared into Sonny's eyes. "Oh. And if you have any ideas about coming after my legitimate businesses, I'll spare you no wrath. I wasn't Frank's second hand man for nothin.' I was da enforcer as well as da strategic planner. Nobody crossed me and lived to tell about it. Understand?" Johnny cleared his throat and placed his hands on his narrow waist, allowing a dead, hard look invade his face as reinforcement to Frankie's words.

Sonny felt a frison of fear invade his guts as he stared back at Frank Smith's child prodigy gangster, every bit as capable of violence as any adult killer. He didn't doubt Frankie for a minute. "I'll get the cashier's check," he said quietly as he walked over to his desk along the far wall of the living room. I had to see it to believe it, but the kid is lethal. No wonder Frank was cleaning up the whole eastern seaboard. His kid was a goldmine for the old man. I thought he was some silly teenager that I could double cross. I'm going to hand over this check, and then I want him out of here. I don't ever want to see him again. Shit. Sonny felt a drop of sweat disengage from his chest and head south. Man, he sure sounds like he grew up in the mean streets, though. I suppose that accent comes in handy.

"This is the amount we agreed upon," Sonny explained as he handed the check over to Frankie's willing hand.

Frankie examined the check and made a disgusted sound as he waved it in the air. "Yeah, dis is what we agreed upon, chicken shit dat it is. You got some good businesses. Don't screw up what we built."

Sonny bristled at Frankie's comments as his dead eyes moved from Frankie to Johnny and then back to Frankie again. He crossed his arms and frowned. "I'm a good businessman," he protested.

Frankie made a snickering noise in disagreement before he said, "Yeah," in an unemotional voice. "We know da way out." He pointed two feet in front of him. "Oh. Dere it is. Ta gentlemen."

Sonny shook his head and slammed the door after Johnny and Frankie. He scratched his head and frowned at the grease that came back on his fingertips. He looked over at a mute Jason sitting on the couch with an expressionless face and unintelligent eyes. A moment of indecision invaded his mind, and he briefly wondered if he could pull it off. Frank was smart, and Frankie seemed to be even more intelligent than the old man. Sonny knew he was good with flexing muscle, and Jason took orders well, but what were their combined IQs? Sonny threw his hands up in the air and growled. I couldn't pass math in high school, and my second hand man is as bright as a sea slug. What have we gotten ourselves into?

~*~*~*~

Frankie held the cashier's check in front of him while he and Johnny rode down the elevator. He counted six figures - well, seven actually, if you included the number nine that was followed by six zeros. He carefully placed the check into his inner suit pocket for safekeeping.

Johnny patted Frankie on the shoulder. "You did good, boss. You had me scared for a minute with that exchange you had with Jason, but it worked out well."

Frankie shrugged. "It's over."

"How do you feel?"

Frankie raised his arms up toward the elevator ceiling and triumphantly stated, "Free," in a strong, confident voice. "I'm ready to be da CEO!"

~*~*~*~

"Robin!" Maxie's teary voice traveled through the phone into Robin's dorm room. "I'm so glad you answered the phone."

Robin grew alert at the tone of Maxie's voice. "What's wrong, Maxie?"

"Robin, it was so awful! I'm never going back to school again - never, not as long as I live!"

"Slow down, little sis," Robin said soothingly. "What happened that was so terrible?"

Maxie took in gulping breaths and sobbed as she flounced back on her bed. "They were making fun of me at school because of the videotape."

"What videotape?" Robin asked cautiously.

"The one where Sly accidentally left the camcorder on and caught me and Frankie making out." Maxie paused and sucked in a quick breath. "Oh. You don't know about that. I was visiting Frankie at his house. His brother left on a camcorder. Sly showed it in his gym class, and we were all called into the principal's office. Mom and Mac grounded me for two weeks because I wasn't supposed to see Frankie."

Robin laughed. "Gee, Maxie. You left out a lot of details. You've been busy."

Robin sat up higher on the bed and leaned back against her collection of pillows. "Oh, Robin, I can't stay away from Frankie. We're in love I think," she whispered in confidence. "He sent me a dozen roses. He signed it 'Yours Always.' I'm crazy about him. How am I going to live through the next six months?"

Robin tapped her toe on the floor as she was starting to get frustrated at Maxie's lack of coherence in relating the story. "Why six months?"

"Mom and Mac decided that I could date Frankie in six months if he doesn't get into trouble during that time. They said they realized he'd been kidnapped and that it wasn't his fault, but that he needed time to adjust to his new family."

"Okay. That's a mouthful," Robin stated. "You're saying you don't think you can wait that long to see him again?"

"Well, they told me I could talk to him and hang out with him at school, but not date him."

"Don't you think they're being fair with you?" Robin questioned. "It sounds like they've thought it through and tried to come up with a compromise."

"Six months?" Maxie squealed into the phone. "That's forever!"

"Hardly," Robin replied dryly. "Although I'm sure you're disappointed."

"They did say we could email," Maxie hedged.

"See? They're not totally uncool," Robin pointed out. "Now why are you so upset about school?"

"Oh, Robin. Twenty-five boys saw that videotape of me and Frankie. They told EVERY other boy in school. Oh man."

"What did they do?" Robin prompted. She rolled her eyes as she could imagine the collective power of hundreds of immature boys.

"They followed me around the school making smooching noises and clutching their chests," Maxie said softly. She sniffed as a few tears slid down her cheeks. "I'm mortified. My reputation is ruined."

"Um, Maxie? What exactly was on that tape?"

Maxie sniffed loudly and sighed. "We were making out - a lot. I guess we were making noises like moans or something. And then Frankie groped me on the chest. That was on the tape, and all of those boys watched it."

"Oh." Robin said. Hence the chest clutching. "That's embarrassing."

"I know!" Maxie wailed. "What am I going to do?"

"Do Mac and Felicia know?"

"Only about the kissing," Maxie said tensely. "They don't know the rest. And don't you tell them," she warned.

"Maxie, those boys will forget about it after a week," Robin said. "You go back to school, hold your head high and ignore them. If you don't react, they'll soon grow tired of following you around and find someone else to make fun of. That's the way it works. You'll survive. It'll be a rough couple of days, but you can call me if you want."

"Thanks, Robin. You always understand."

~*~*~*~

"You're a little hardass, you know," Johnny joked as he wheeled Frankie out the door of the penthouse building.

"And you loooove me for it," Frankie joked back. "Where to now, Johnny? Are ya gonna let me drive my own car? Man, I miss driving."

Johnny playfully popped Frankie on the top of his head. "You have a few months of therapy before you can think about that." Johnny stopped the wheelchair in front of the car and reached for the keys to unlock the passenger's side door.

Frankie frowned at his reply, and glanced at something that disturbed his peripheral vision. "Joooohhhnnyyyy!" he screamed out as if in slow motion as he dived out of his wheelchair for the perceived relative safety of the cement sidewalk. Two men strode purposefully toward Johnny and Frankie, their faces set with their murderous intent, and their arms raised with guns trained on their targets. One man sprayed a four foot wide path of bullets from a small submachine gun, and it cut sharply across the BMW with rapid pinging sounds until it hit Johnny full in the chest, sending him flying up and over the hood of the car and finally splayed over the rough black pavement of the street.

Within a split second of being repeatedly hit across the back with the fierce spray of bullets, Frankie raised his hand and pulled the trigger of his mini-gun, dropping the first hitman with one well-aimed shot to the forehead. The man's tall, heavy body tumbled to the ground with the grace of a felled tree. His submachine gun made a loud, metallic clank as it dropped beside his body. Pedestrians on the street began screaming and pointing at the growing carnage as blood seeped from the man's head, forming a wet, red halo sticking out several inches from his hair. People flattened to buildings and some dropped to the pavement or crawled behind parked cars in their panic.

Johnny groaned and rolled over on his hands and knees, desperate to get back to Frankie to protect him. As Johnny attempted to rise from the pavement, the second hitman marched straight up to Frankie, who was still lying flat on his stomach after being brutally shot fifteen times in the back. Panting heavily with his arm held out from him, Frankie aimed at the point in the air where the other hitman's head used to be. He redirected his aim at the second man when he said in a deep, New Jersey accented voice, "Dis is for Donado," and looked down on Frankie with a steely gaze and an automatic pistol aimed at the back of the boy's head. "Wait! Wait!" Frankie shouted. "Tell Donado I don't have da illegal businesses no more. Sonny Corinthos and Jason Morgan do. I sold da businesses to 'em. Dey have 'em. I ain't got nothin'. I'm a civilian now. You don't gotta kill da civilians. Da Mafia don't work dat way." The hitman hesitated for a moment as he lowered his gun and frowned while looking into Frankie's sincere yet panicked blue eyes. He felt unsure, but he knew the Mafia didn't appreciate publicity of the civilian kind, and he also had a teenaged son at home who wasn't that different sounding from Frankie. He didn't want to kill a kid. Besides, maybe Donado didn't know about this. There would always be another opportunity to kill the brat if need be. He said gruffly, "Put da gun away and get outta here. NOW." The man turned and ran several paces down the street to the waiting, umarked black vehicle that was parked on the curb.

Frankie let his arm fall down to the ground, but he never let go of the pistol for one second. He lay still on his stomach and panted and wheezed as he groaned in pain. His soft cheek rested against the rough, gray concrete of the sidewalk, and a trickle of blood worked its way out from under his face, a reminder that Frankie had scraped his face along the pavement when he'd been blasted by the force of the submachine gun.

"Frankie?" Johnny asked in a sharp, alarmed voice as he limped over to his fallen boss. "Frankie? Are you all right? Speak to me!" Johnny's head shot up in alarm when he heard the simultaneous sounds of the black Mafia vehicle roaring off and the distant wail of sirens. Johnny's eyes teared up when he saw the condition of Frankie's Armani suit, littered with torn holes over the entire back. He laid a careful hand on his shoulder. "Frankie? We gotta get out of here. The police are on their way." Pedestrians were starting to emerge from the building and were picking themselves off the ground, dusting themselves off and muttering things like, "This is why I moved here from New York City. But the violence follows you anyway. Some nice small town. Yeah, right."

Johnny left Frankie briefly to hurriedly unlock the passenger door. They needed to get out of there regardless of Frankie's condition. They'd sort that out later. But for now, they had to avoid the heat.

Johnny removed the gun from Frankie's limp hand and placed it in his pocket. He dragged the unresponsive boy from under his arms to the safety of the bullet hole dented BMW. Frankie's head and arms hung down and his legs dragged along the pavement with his shiny leather shoes scuffing along the rough surface. His wheelchair lay unoccupied, full of bulletholes and with a sadly turning wheel that was bent yet spun round and round as the chair lay tipped on its side. Frankie's face was pale with a long, bloody gash down one side, and his lips were parted slightly in shock while his barely opened eyes stared straight ahead. Johnny folded the boy into the front seat and slammed the door shut as he raced for the driver's side. He turned the key and tested the engine's zero to sixty mph in five seconds promise as the tires squealed loudly and left their mark on the road. He glanced worriedly at Frankie as he noted his own pain from the numerous places where his skin had violently contacted his bulletproof vest as the bullets left their impact. Frankie's eyes were now closed and a long smear of blood ran over the passenger's window where his head rested.

Next chapter...