Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Sixty-One

"Mama?" Frankie looked around his room in confusion as he first gripped his blankets in his hand and then flung them away from his body. He squinted and made a sour face at the sea of gilded gold that gleamed back at him, holding his hands in front of his eyes for protection from its ugliness. Where's Mama? He hopped from his bed and parted the curtains. Still looks early in da morning.  He turned around and called again for his mother as he wasn't sure what he should do in the absence of his own room's comforts. Where were his clothes?

Laura appeared in the doorway, fully dressed and coiffed with baby Lulu on her hip. "You're awake," she said brightly.

"Barely," Frankie mumbled. He yawned loudly and frowned as he ruffled his hair. "I didn't sleep good," he complained. "Must be dis room."

Laura looked at the glum expression on her son's face and noted he didn't mention the bad dreams he'd had or his reaction to them. "You woke up with a dream last night," she said carefully. "Stefan stayed with you until earlier this morning, but you didn't wake again."

"I don't remember dat," Frankie muttered darkly, and his eyes narrowed at the implication he might have done something wrong. "Where's my stuff?"

Laura walked further into the room and opened the drawers to an elaborate antique chest with a bowed front and carved legs. "I had the servants place your clothing in this chest, and the bathroom is stocked with all the necessities. Here, you hold the baby while I find your things. What do you want?"

Frankie sat on the end of the bed and held out his arms to receive his baby sister. "Clothes?" Frankie repeated with bugged eyes. Boy, Mama can be annoying. His mood softened when he set his eyes on Lulu's pink face and bright, violet eyes. "You're so pretty," he cooed while he gently rocked her in his arms, never taking his gaze away from her. Apparently he had the right touch because Lulu nestled in and let out a soft sigh of contentment as she closed her eyes. He looked around the room and asked, "Where's my wheelchair? How'm I s'posed to get around?" He nervously tapped his bare foot on the gleaming wooden floor as his patience for change was wearing thin.

"Oh," Laura exclaimed as she set down an outfit for her son. "Stefan took it this morning. He's bringing back some metal crutches for you from the hospital. You're supposed to use them for at least several hours a day to help regain your strength."

"What about now?" Frankie questioned. "I gotta get around now. Where's da crutches den?"

"I forgot about that!" Laura laughed. "I'm sure the chair is still here in the house. You take your shower and I'll round it up for you. It'll be here for you when you need it."

"Good," Frankie said gruffly. His head was killing him, and he felt uneasy for some reason.

"Today is the reading of Frank Smith's will," Laura reminded him. "I don't know if you remember me telling you last week?"

"Shit!" Frankie exclaimed. "Oops," he said softly when Lulu's eyes opened abruptly to the harsh tone of his voice. "Sorry, baby." He ran his index finger very gently down the length of her cheek several times until she settled again. "When is it?"

"It's here at the house at two PM. Alexis will be present as your attorney, and I imagine your father will attend as well. There are other persons mentioned in the will, so there might be a full house."

Frankie shrugged as he snatched his clothing away from his mother and hopped toward the bathroom. Hopalong Frankie, he thought wryly. Da man with one leg. Man, Frank would have a field day with dis.

~*~*~*~

Frankie looked up from his breakfast plate as Mama led Sly over to the table. He didn't greet his brother but continued eating his blueberry pancakes with a slow, careful precision learned from years of impeccable table manners at Frank's mansion.

"I already ate breakfast, but I never refuse food," Sly grinned. He sat beside Frankie and said, "Hi."

Frankie carefully laid his utensils across the plate and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin. "Hi, Sly," he said in a quiet voice. "How's dat new house?"

Sly hesitated before answering as he wasn't sure if Frankie were truly interested or just being polite. It was hard to read him as he seemed aloof and closed off. Sly settled for being truthful since Frankie never bothered being polite with him, and he let his enthusiasm shine out. "It is so neat," he exclaimed. "At first I had a hard time getting used to being out of the bar - you know, noise and light instead of being dark at night - but now I like being closer to nature.  Dad's fixed it up nice, not that it wasn't great before. He painted most of the rooms, and Mom hung curtains and decorations. It's super, so much nicer than the apartment when it was just me and Dad living there." Sly stopped talking when he noticed that Frankie hadn't said anything in return. "You never did see the apartment, did you?"

Frankie shook his head. "Kinda hard climbing stairs in a wheelchair."

"Well, you didn't miss much. Dad wasn't into decorating, which surprises me because of how many lady friends he had. When I first came to live with him, they were still coming around, but I always knew he liked Alexis best. You could just tell. But oh man, all the female junk around the house. I think they all wanted to move in." Sly laughed and dug further into his own pancakes, suddenly aware that he was starving only an hour after his breakfast at home.

Frankie pointed at the plate. "Yeah, you better finish dat 'cause we got homework to do. I want mine done before da will is read dis afternoon."

"The will?" Sly asked with a puzzled voice and a mouth full of pancakes. His face suddenly flooded with understanding, and he lowered his fork to the plate. "That's your dad's will - Frank Smith?"

"Yeah. It's finally ready. Stefan decided to have it here for security reasons." Frankie glanced at his watch. "Dat reminds me. I gotta call Johnny and ask him to be my bodyguard one last time."

"You expect trouble? Why?"

"Cause Frank Smith was trouble. Ain't nothin' new about dat. He'll be trouble even when he's dead."

"Do you miss him?" Sly asked carefully.

"Sure," Frankie replied with his fingers gripping and releasing the hem of his cloth napkin. His head bent down. "He was my dad," he mumbled.

Sly blinked. He was shocked at how attached Frankie still was to this man who seemed like an ill-tempered giant from what he'd heard. Maybe it was similar to how he felt about his father Bill. Bill was certainly not the monster that Frank Smith had been; however, he'd had his fair share of flaws. Still, Sly loved him anyway. Your dad was your dad no matter what. He recalled Luke telling him that he'd had two years to grieve Bill, but Frankie was just starting to grieve the loss of Frank. Maybe he needed to tread a little more carefully, especially since Frankie might have that disorder, whatever it was. All he knew was that his mom and dad had warned him not to talk about it with his new brother, to let him bring up subjects at his own pace.

"I'm sorry," Sly said simply. He used the side of his fork to remove another piece from his pancake. "I miss my dad Bill, too." He munched in silence for a minute as Frankie didn't reply. "Okay," he said brightly. "I'm ready to study. Want me to push you to the elevator?"

"Sure," Frankie said neutrally.

"How can you stand living here with foreign servants?" Sly questioned as he wheeled his brother through the hallway. "I keep getting the creeps the way they stare at me."

"Dey're not foreign if you can talk to dem," Frankie stated. "Most of dem are Russian or Greek 'cause of Stefan. Da families have served da Cassadines for years. I can speak da languages, so it's cake. Dey're nice enough.

"Oh. Maybe I'd better work harder on my foreign languages."

"You're too old," Frankie observed. "Da brain ain't plastic after age nine. Maybe you can pick up one or two languages, but not many."

"They only teach two foreign languages at PCH. Sounds like you've had a good education, though."

Frankie shrugged. "I dunno. Sometimes it’s a burden. A person can know too much."

~*~*~*~

Athena was sitting in the living room of the house that Nikolas had rented in Tahiti, sifting through the shells that she'd collected earlier in the day, trying to decide which ones were worth the trouble to pack up and take home. Maybe she'd mail her mother a few shells along with a note of explanation about why she'd taken off. Athena's eyes darkened. But then her beautiful, distracted mother probably didn't care where she was as long as she was out of her hair. She'd been too busy acting the part of merry widow to notice she had girls who needed attention. Tucking the shells into a small package for her younger sister Elektra would be a better choice. Elektra knew that Athena was with Nikolas, but she'd been sworn to secrecy, and Athena trusted her implicitly with matters of the heart.

Perhaps I should have accepted Nikolas' proposal. I love him, and marrying him would allow me to escape my life on the island. Athena's face tightened as she shook her head, tossing her beautiful black curls back and forth. She'd determined years ago that an education was her ticket to freedom. Education was something they couldn't take away once you had it, and she'd need all of her wits to escape her fate on the island. As it was, she was destined to marry a poor fisherman or servant, which befit her standing in the family. Her mother emphasized using her physical beauty, but Athena preferred to use her brains. Thanks to Stefan Cassadine's generous foundation, which was established to provide a free university education for any Cassadine with educational achievement, she would flee to England in a matter of months and leave behind the island she despised. Nikolas seemed to be in love with the place, but he had the naiveté of the very wealthy. Any place has the potential to be paradise with the money to make it so.

~*~*~*~

Johnny adjusted his leather shoulder holster to make sure it was secure and at the perfect angle where he could grab his gun in an instant. He glanced in the bathroom mirror and was surprised to see how quickly his cold, hard bodyguard's face had returned. The past few weeks away from the lunacy of Frank Smith's organization had softened the planes of his face with much needed relaxation of his tight muscles. Now, he needed to arm up again and protect the boy he'd sworn to keep alive.

Bobbie tiptoed up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was taken back at how rigid his back was and at the presence of the large pistol. "What's this?" she asked curiously as he turned around to face her.

"It's for the reading of Frank Smith's will at the Cassadine estate. Frankie needs my protection as there will be fifty guests present and a private guest list per the attorney's instructions. I'm concerned at who might show up and what his or her agenda might be. I'll be there to ensure that nothing happens to the kid."

"He's lucky to have you."

Johnny's eyes reflected sadness at the topic of his former employer. "He'll always have me. He's like my own kid. I won't let anyone harm him. They'll have to get through me first." Johnny patted his holster for emphasis and kissed Bobbie on top of her hair.

"Lucas is due home next week. Will it be safe for him to be here?" Bobbie asked worriedly. "He's having a good time with his father, but I miss my son."

Johnny wrapped Bobbie into a hug and whispered in her ear, "Lucas will be fine here. It's over. Special events like these make me cautious for Frankie, but the illegal businesses are gone. It's Corinthos who needs to be concerned for his life."

"I think we've been spoiled these past few weeks in spite of everything that's happened with Frankie. With Ricky and Lucas here next week, we'll be up to our ears in kids."

Johnny's eyes turned hazy with desire as he pulled Bobbie closer for a warm kiss and a pat on her fanny. "Then we need to take advantage of our free time," he replied with a husky voice.

~*~*~*~

Mrs. DeMarco sniffed with tears in her eyes and hugged her new best friend. "I'll come ta visit next month, Ruby," she said sadly. "I got tons of kids I need to see back home."

"And cookies to bake," Ruby inserted with a twinkle in her eyes.

Mrs. DeMarco laughed. "Lots of cookies. It's my specialty."

"Well, I'd be happy to sell them in my diner if you want," Ruby offered.  "I don't know what you put in them, but they're magical."

"I'll start da company called Mrs. DeMarco's Cookies."

Ruby's face turned serious. "You could if you wanted to, Irene. They're that good."

Mrs. DeMarco shook her head. "I got a pension from Joseph and my kids take care of me. I'm da free babysitter after all. Gotta have dem babies around all da time. It's what I do."

"And very well, I might add. You took excellent care of Frankie. It's why he's doing so well considering what he's been through."

"I don't know, Ruby. Dere were so many years dat I never saw him. He's changed. But he'll always be my little Frankie with da blond hair and blue eyes, smiling like a sunbeam."

"He sure was smiling when Frank Sinatra stepped out last night at the party. Did you really know him back in the day?"

"Oh, yeah, Ruby. He was such a dreamboat. I was a little wisp of a girl, but I still followed him around everywhere. My uncle was a friend of his from childhood. He always could sing and charm da girls."

"Sounds like our Frankie."

Mrs. DeMarco nodded. "It sure does."

~*~*~*~

"Pssst. Sly." Frankie was leaning over the desk in the study, trying to get his brother's attention. Sly had been mesmerized reading about the social evolution of chimpanzees, and he blinked in surprise to hear the low voice calling his name. "You're not done with your homework yet?" Frankie scoffed.

"You're just quicker because you've already studied it," Sly retorted.

Frankie shrugged. "Got dat right. I'm bored to death and thinkin' about mischief."

"Oh no," Sly groaned as he slammed his book shut. "What now?"

Frankie's right eyebrow rose, giving him a wicked look. "Just 'cause we have detention don't mean we have to observe it," he stated coyly.

"Frankie! We've been suspended from school for two weeks because of your idea and my stupidity. What now? Why don't you wait until we're free before planning how we'll go back to prison?" Sly gulped and wished he could eat his words when he saw the quick change in Frankie's face. The boy's complexion instantly lost its life at the mention of imprisonment, and his eyes filled with fear.

"I'm sorry," Sly stuttered in an attempt at damage control. "I didn't mean, you know. I forgot."

Frankie recovered and waved away his apology. He leaned in closer and whispered. "Let's break out of dis joint tomorrow afternoon. I'm gonna get my car and pick up Maxie from school. You want to pick up Emily, too? We could have ourselves a party or something."

"You can't drive."

Frankie's cheeks flushed. "I can drive," he said firmly. "I only need da right foot, not da left."

"Where's your car?"

Frankie inspected his nails, effecting boredom at the tiresome questions. "Johnny has it. It's been fixed, and he's gonna drop it off dis afternoon. I loooove drivin' dat car. And with da girls, it'd be perfect."

A warm glow slowly spread through Sly as he contemplated seeing Emily again. He couldn't stand it when a day went by without his girl.  "Okay," he said. "I'm in." He reached up and gave Frankie a high five to confirm their plans. "I hope we don't get caught. They'll send us to Siberia."

Frankie laughed. "We'll just start a casino dere."

~*~*~*~

Sonny knocked on Jason's door, impatient with a hand on his hip and a grim look on his face. He knocked again and called Jason's name. Dammit. Where is he? We were supposed to start our second day of strategy meetings. I need his data on the money laundering possibilities. He's never been unreliable, why now?

Sonny motioned to Benny with an impatient snap of his wrist. "Open the door," he ordered with dead eyes and a flat tone of voice. "Something's wrong." When he entered the penthouse apartment, nothing seemed amiss; everything was in place. Benny drew his gun and cautiously entered each room before Sonny followed.

"Boss," Benny said loudly when he crossed the threshold to Jason's bedroom. "Look here." Benny pointed to the rumpled bed, opened drawers and small containers littering the floor, obvious signs of a disturbance.

Sonny walked over to the dresser and picked up a single Polaroid. It was a snapshot of a wary, frightened looking Jason with two very large, very lethal looking hands on his shoulders. Sonny ran his finger over the image of Jason's lips, splashed with red lipstick. He absentmindedly rubbed his own lips as he put two and two together. On the reverse side of the Polaroid was a post-it note with a terse message scrawled on it: Jason went bye-bye. If you don't want to join him, be prepared to fork over what you just bought. And, no we're not The Sopranos.

Sonny released the Polaroid, letting it drop to the top of the dresser as his eyes frantically scanned the floor. Makeup. It was a splash of confetti on the floor. Red, blue, green, gold. My god, what was he into? "Benny!" Sonny shouted with a shaky voice.

"Boss? You found something?"

"We've got to shore up our defenses. A tornado is headed our way. An Italian tornado called the Mafia!" Sonny raced through the door and called back over his shoulder. "It's too late for Jason, but we might be able to save ourselves."

~*~*~*~

Frankie glowed when he reviewed his appearance in the full length mirror framed by intricate, scrolled carvings. He adjusted his tie with a smirk on his face. He looked damned good in Armani! Mama was great to replace dat suit with da holes. Dis is fine. I wanna look good for da will reading. She'd even found a pair of shoes similar to his custom made lifts handcrafted in Milan. He figured he was at least five feet seven inches now, a respectable height for a fifteen year old. The Armani made his shoulders look much broader and accented his narrow waist to a pleasing contrast. Frankie instinctively patted his waist, but he wasn't packing a gun. As much as he'd like one, he'd have to wait to pick up the package tomorrow.  At least Johnny would be beside him as his bodyguard. Johnny hadn't let him down yet. Well, there was the recent shooting in front of Corinthos' building, but that wasn't his fault. Frankie doubted that the Mafia would ambush a private will reading, and besides, they had an easier target to concentrate on now. Frankie idly wondered how Jason was faring. An evil laugh escaped his lips as he snapped his fingers at his reflection in the mirror.

Frankie's new metal crutches were perched against the wall, and he grabbed them with gusto as he looked forward to walking to this important event rather than being passively wheeled in. They were easier to maneuver than the wooden crutches, but he still had no intention of going near the staircase after falling down and bumping his head the last time. He worked into a groove of a lurching walk, not unlike someone with cerebral palsy, and wished that he could appear cooler, but he was grateful for the Armani suit, which would cover up a multitude of sins.

Upon arriving at the elevator and pushing the down button, he noticed that he was slightly winded. This walking stuff was more strenuous than he'd anticipated. The near dead weight of his nerve damaged leg was taxing, although he supposed the exercise was beneficial - that's why the docs wanted him to do it.  He wasn't sure where the ballroom was, but when he exited the elevator, the general din coming from the left side of the mansion was his clue to its direction. Halfway there, he leaned against the wall and laid his head against an intricate, hanging tapestry, which he hoped was merely a reproduction, not a fourteenth century artifact that he was rubbing hair gel on. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes briefly.

"Boss."

Frankie opened his eyes and smiled at the sight of his favorite bodyguard. "Johnny," he stated with relief. "I'm glad you found me. I'm not packing."

"Good," Johnny answered abruptly with a smile and a nod of his head. "Leave it to me."

"Sure thing." He looked longingly toward the ballroom. "Dis damn mansion must be a mile long," he complained. "I keep thinking I'm gonna bust something and the ghost of King XYZ is gonna come haunt me forever."

Johnny clapped Frankie on the back as he chuckled. "It's nice to see you in a good mood for a change. Are you looking forward to the will reading?"

Frankie shrugged as he moved forward with his metal crutches. Johnny noted how painfully the boy walked and felt a wince of compassion. "I’m already a multimillionaire in my own right. What's a few more million?"

~*~*~*~

Nikolas opened drawers and threw clothing onto a growing pile in the center of the king-sized bed. His suitcases were open and waiting to be filled. Athena walked into the room and gasped with surprise. "Nikolas? What are you doing?" She appeared as naturally exotic as the island with a tropical flower pinned in her hair, and wearing a breezy sundress with matching flip flops.

"We're leaving," Nikolas answered tersely.

"What do you mean?"

Nikolas turned his head and shot her a harsh glance. "I mean, we're packing and leaving - now."

Athena frowned and removed the flower from her hair, stroking it with her long slender fingers as she thought about this latest development. "Why didn't you discuss this with me before making a decision for both of us?"

"Who's paying for the trip?" Nikolas shot back.

Athena flinched at the hurtful words flung so quickly in her direction. She wrapped her arms around him, hoping he'd simmer down with her warm touch. Nikolas shook off her hands and frowned. "My father is starting to look for us in Asia," he said flatly. "It's time to go."

"Why are you so angry? Is it the proposal?"

Nikolas' face darkened. "Does everything have to be about you? The world doesn't revolve around Athena Cassadine."

"Nor Nikolas Cassadine!" Athena's hands balled into fists of frustration, and her green eyes darkened like an ominous storm. She'd been enduring his rejection since the fateful night when he'd proposed to her, and she'd declined the immediate offer, hoping to revisit the idea at a more appropriate time. She still loved him and missed sharing his affections in the bedroom. After that night, he'd been cold and chilly toward her, almost as if he wanted her to chase after him and prove that she loved him. Athena's frustration with the situation had built until it threatened to overtake her.

Nikolas' face screwed up with his displeasure. "At least I have the ability to love."

"And I don’t? How dare you! I've been nothing but loving toward you for this entire trip, while you've acted like a spoiled brat."

Athena had pressed the right buttons, and Nikolas' hands shot out to grip her arms tightly and give her a solid shake. Athena stunned him by drawing back and smacking his cheek with the flat of her palm. "Get your hands off of me!"

Nikolas' cheek turned red, but the longer he stared into Athena's eyes, the more his passion took a divergent path. Anger turned to desire, and he took her mouth in a hungry kiss, rubbing his lips over hers with a desperate intensity and using his hands to draw her closer to him. Athena fell back onto the pile of Nikolas' clothes and giggled when she pulled his teeshirt over his head and flung it beside her. Nikolas relieved her of her sundress and stared down at her naked beauty with a smile creasing his face as his muscular arms held him arched over her body. He mouthed, "I love you," before lowering himself and enfolding her into his arms.

~*~*~*~

By the time that Frankie entered the ballroom, he was sweating from his exertion. He paused in the doorway to scope out the scene and to catch some rest. There was a small crowd of people in the room - at least forty persons. He saw his father and Alexis in the front row, and two empty seats beside them, presumably reserved for him and Johnny. For some reason, there seemed to be a number of older women with one young man or woman sitting beside them. Laura was standing to the side of the seating area, and she waved at Frankie, motioning with her hand for him to sit beside Luke. Most of the eyes in the room turned toward Frankie as he awkwardly made his way toward his father and stepmother. Sly was already by his parents, and he waved at Frankie when he noticed his brother approaching. It was an odd assembly with the opulent silk drapes pooling down from the tall windows lining the wall and the wooden chairs laid out into an auditorium configuration on top of the smooth, polished maple floors. There was a microphone and a podium along with a long table at the front of the audience as if the will reading would take on a question and answer format. Frankie felt a moment of relief when he saw Harry Jamieson, his old mob attorney, talking with an associate. He was standing beside a large television, and Frankie wondered what the intention was for that. Harry was looking his usual trim, slick self with carefully styled white hair and a jaunty gold pocket watch peeking out of his vest.

Johnny followed closely behind Frankie, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd for any potential assassins, while he also watched out for the boy to make sure he didn't stumble or fall. Frankie's arms shook slightly with each step, and he grimaced as he dragged his leg along. A hush fell over the audience as most eyes were directed toward Frankie. Some people seemed to know who he was, and more than one face bore a sneer of anger and resentment. Many of the male and female faces seemed oddly familiar. Frankie felt a frison of fear run up his spine as every time he glanced to his right, he seemed to catch a glimpse of Frank - a wide, lantern jaw here or a thatch of wavy hair there.

"Harry," Frankie gritted out as he finally reached his destination.

Harry turned toward Frankie and smiled. His eyes saddened briefly when he noticed Frankie's disability, but he quickly recovered and patted the boy on the back. "Frank Junior," he intoned heartily. "Looking dapper as always, young man." Luke's wary eyes caught the interchange, and he glowered from his seat at the shady man's familiarity with his son and at the mention of Frankie's false paternity. "I could wring his neck," he whispered to Alexis, who responded by patting him on the leg. Sly sat staring at Frankie, amazed as always at how his brother could change at the blink of an eye. Earlier, they'd been like kids whispering about their girlfriends, and now Frankie looked like an older businessman with his power suit and assured manner. If he had that disorder, it certainly seemed to work to his advantage.

After exchanging pleasantries with his attorney, Frankie tried to take his seat but had to rely on Johnny to ease him down into the hard, low chair. Johnny took Frankie's metal crutches and laid them in front of him, within reaching distance. Frankie feigned a cough and twisted in his seat to review the sea of faces behind him. Johnny felt Frankie shudder and looked at him questioningly. "It's like Frank's in here everywhere," Frankie whispered out of the side of his mouth. Johnny nodded and laid his arm over the back of Frankie's chair. Luke patted Frankie on the knee, and said, "It should start soon." Frankie nodded in return and kept staring at the combination television/VCR unit that was sitting five feet in front of him.

Stefan entered the ballroom and joined his wife to the side of the auditorium seating, both preferring to stand, removing themselves from the proceedings as if they were hosting a banquet, not a solemn occasion.

Harry Jamieson cleared his throat and tapped on the microphone to gain the audience's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome. We're all gathered here today as persons who were significant in the life of Frank Smith." Luke snorted audibly from his seat and crossed his arms in defiance of that sentiment. Frankie's leg was trembling from his exertion and the nervous energy that coursed throughout his body.

The attorney continued as he held his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on the heels of his shoes.  "Before we read the particulars of the will, I'd like to play this videotape at the request of Mr. Smith. This was recorded one week before his, ahem, untimely death." He snapped his fingers at the assistant, who pressed the play button on the machine. Frankie tensed in his seat and nearly cried out when Frank's strong face filled the screen and his voice boomed throughout the ballroom.

<<<Welcome to the last party I'll ever hold.>>> 

Frank Smith's eyes were hard and cold and seemed to bore into the faces of every person watching. Stefan's senses were on high alert as he sought to understand this man who had harmed his stepson, and Laura gulped in remembrance of Frank's cruelty.

<<<If this videotape is playing, then Frank Smith Junior must be sitting in the front row.>>> Frank paused to let the comment sink in, and his eyes took on a malicious gleam. <<<Or perhaps I should refer to you by your given name, Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior? What is a more appropriate name for my favorite little hood?>>

Frankie sat still with a ramrod straight posture, burning inside with humiliation and anger. His eyes darted toward Harry, and he could tell that the crooked attorney had been in on the secret from the beginning.

<<<If you're wondering why you're such a screw-up, Frankie-boy, then now you have an answer. Nothing good ever came from a Spencer.>>>

Luke's fists clenched, and his teeth ground together. This show had best be brief because he had no intention of sitting still for a posthumous insult from the likes of Frank Smith. He placed a reassuring hand on Frankie's knee, but the boy didn't seem to notice as his eyes were transfixed by the harsh man on the screen.

<<<As inferior as the raw materials may be, I still did an excellent job of tutoring you, didn't I, boy? There isn't a more lethal teenager on the eastern seaboard. >>> Frank laughed malevolently. <<<Don't worry, Frankie. I have no intention of ratting you out for the multiple crimes that everyone knows you committed. Honor among thieves?>>>

At first, Frankie had held his breath, waiting for Frank to reveal incriminating evidence, but now he was panting out of fear and anxiety, wondering what the man would say next. He felt like he was in a room alone with Frank and waiting for the next punch or slap.

<<<Did you stay awake nights wondering why you'd been kidnapped, little one? It's simple. Revenge. It's oh so sweet. Revenge on Luke Spencer for being the biggest prick I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Little did you know you'd be exchanging your son for the price of shooting off your mouth, Spencer. Was it worth it? Of course, you might not like your son now that he's a hood.>>>

Frank threw up his hands. <<<This game is a bore. I'm giving your son back, Luke. He's no use to me. The plan was for him to destroy you - first your business, and then your life, but you know what they say about the best-laid plans. Our little Frankie has a soft spot, entirely unsuitable for my businesses. Oh, he could be brilliant when he applied himself, mostly due to my influence, but he's not man enough to associate with me, are you Frankie. Of course if you're watching this, I'm dead.>>>

Frank's eyes lit up with his personal brand of madness, and he raised a pistol directly toward the camera. <<See you in hell, kiddo!>>> The gun fired, and the video shook violently and then turned black to the sound of Frank's ringing laughter.

Frankie jumped in his seat with the sound of the firing pistol, and Johnny protectively pulled him close to his side, enclosing him in his embrace. Luke sat numbly in his seat, stunned and amazed at the depths of Frank's cruelty. He turned his head toward his son who was trembling in Johnny's arms. He felt his heart sink as he couldn't protect his son from this madman even when he was moldering in the grave.

Harry Jamieson had turned three shades of red, unaware that Frank had taped this diatribe. He was under the understanding that this would be a typical will, and Frank had insisted that the videotape be sealed until the reading. "That's it for the videotape portion of this reading," he said in a low calm voice that he hoped would set the tone for the rest of the meeting. "As you can see, Frank has many persons cited in his will. However, it is not as complicated as one might expect. Most persons in the room will receive the exact same inheritance. After we read the contents of the will..."

Harry was interrupted by the insistent click clack of a pair of stiletto heels on the ballroom floor. Laura winced at the sight and sound of one little pair of shoes that could destroy the lovely custom rubbed finish. The woman who owned the shoes tossed her dark, raven hair away from her shoulders and strolled toward the front of the room. She stood with her hand on her hip, tapping it with her red, acrylic nails. Everyone stared at this brazen woman dressed more for a night on the town than a somber occasion. From head to toe, she was covered by the most expensive, revealing clothing that a designer could imagine for a runway. No curve was spared, and that's the way she liked it. Her cold, dark eyes zeroed in on Frankie, and her red lips broke into a malevolent smirk with a voice dripping in sarcasm.  "Hi Frankie. Miss me, honey?"

Frankie had been struggling with a peculiar feeling ever since Frank's face aired on the tape. It was like a window in his mind was stuck halfway open, and he was in between universes, half inside and half outside. He'd been in a fuzzy, floaty place, not entirely aware of his surroundings.

"What's the matter, Frankie? You ought to know you can't start a party without me."

Cathy stood there enjoying the misery she was inflicting on Frank's son. She motioned to Harry. "You can resume. I was always Frank's favorite. I'm sure he was very generous."

Frankie felt the window in his mind slam shut, and he sprang up from the chair with a velocity that made Johnny and Luke exclaim. He effortlessly grabbed one of his metal crutches and forcefully slammed his body into Cathy, propelling her backwards. She would have fallen flat on the floor had Frankie not grabbed a handful of her hair in his fist and turned her around, pushing her toward an alcove off of the ballroom. The entire motion took less than four seconds, and no one in the ballroom moved out of shock. They heard a loud crash of a body falling against something breakable and a voice sounding eerily identical to the man on the videotape. "You BITCH!" they heard Frankie scream over and over.

 Next chapter...