Fallen Angel - TOC

Chapter Eleven

12:15AM

Frankie threw another empty beer can into the trash, his third in the last half-hour. He looked down at his large gold signet ring, running an index finger over the flashy F and S initials as he zoned out, thinking about the ceremony that announced his appointment to the position of number two man.

*** "Gentlemen, Frank Smith, Junior is now second in command in this organization. Let’s give him a hand and welcome him to his new role." The cheers and shouts were deafening as the assembly of mob employees watched Frank slide the signet ring onto Frankie’s hand. A bottle of champagne was cracked open, shooting up its celebratory foam and bubbling over into extended champagne glasses.

Frank held up a hand to silence the assembly. "Years of careful training have resulted in Frank Junior’s outstanding leadership abilities," he intoned seriously. Frank placed a hand on Frankie’s shoulder and looked approvingly at his son. "He has successfully completed ten missions to date, and we look forward to many more opportunities for the organization in the future. Our territories have expanded by 20% over the last two years, and our income has increased by 40%. I believe we can look forward to many more years of prosperity under my son’s capable leadership. Now let’s celebrate and show the world how Frank Smith’s organization likes to party!"

A row of showgirls lined up on a center stage and began a risqué number with flashing sequins and feathered headdresses swaying back and forth. Frank held his arm around Frankie endearingly as they watched the show. Frankie laid down one champagne glass and reached for another, his third of the evening. All around him were loud guffaws, clapping, whistling, laughter and dirty joke telling. Frankie suddenly felt small and all alone, a sore thumb that didn’t belong in the current crowd. He carefully glanced around and put on a small, tense smile. ***

Frankie hummed lightly under his breath, then began to softly sing another Frank Sinatra tune as he played and fiddled with his gold ring and looked around his furnished room.

When I get that mood indigo, I could lay me down and die.

Frankie looked down at his outstretched hands and sighed. When he heard a light knock at his door, he pulled an angry face, wiping away the tears that had pooled up in his eyes. He coughed and rose to his feet, squaring his shoulders, running a hand through his hair, and sauntering over to the door with a purposeful stride.

"Come on in," he motioned to the tall blonde woman standing in the doorway. Frankie gently shut the door behind her. The woman smiled at him. "Credit card," she said in a business-like tone of voice with an impatient, outstretched hand. Frankie reached for his wallet and handed over a platinum card. The woman drew a pocket cell phone from her bag and phoned in the numbers. "Driver’s license," she ordered in a bored drawl. Frankie handed her his fake driver’s license with a tense motion of his hand. She perused it carefully, then sighed and handed it back to him.

The woman placed the phone back into her purse. "You ordered forty-five minutes, straight up sex, right?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. Frankie nodded wordlessly as he looked at the teased, made-up woman who towered over him by three inches in her bare feet and now by six inches with her high, spiked heels. The hooker noticed that Frankie looked sad and forlorn, so she said, "Come here," as she held out her arms. Frankie folded his hands around her waist as she pulled him to her bosom. She stroked his hair, and said, "You’re awful cute, you know that?" Frankie nodded, and she snickered, pulling him by the hand over to the bed. The two sat down on the bed, and the hooker laughed as she found herself suddenly flat on her back with Frankie climbing on top of her.

~*~*~*~

Maxie lay in bed with the covers pulled all the way up to her chin. She sniffed as she fought off another round of tears. She and Frankie hadn’t said anything to one another all the way home. It didn’t seem like he was mad, but she couldn’t read him. He hadn’t shown much emotion on his face, and he turned on the radio as soon as they entered his car.

*** Maxie fidgeted and looked out the window on the way home, wondering what she’d tell her mom and Mac about her date. She decided to focus on the dinner and movie entirely, leaving out the part about going back to Kelly’s. She snuck a few glances in his direction. Frankie’s lips were pursed as he lightly whistled and hummed along to the tunes. Her heart lurched a little in her chest – she still thought he was the cutest guy she’d ever seen. It wasn’t like she was mad at him, but maybe disappointed. Was that all he saw in her – a quick roll in the hay? Did he care at all about her as a person? Would they ever speak again after this disaster? Probably not, she thought morosely.

Frankie pulled into the drive and turned off the car. He stared straight ahead out the windshield as he and Maxie sat quietly in the car. Finally, he spoke. "Thanks for going out with me," he said politely. He opened the car door and waited for Maxie to exit. He walked with her to the front door of her house and paused. He bent in and lightly kissed her lips with a gentle motion that felt like spun sugar caressing her lips. Maxie’s eyes filled with tears as Frankie then turned and walked away. ***

Maxie had never felt so confused in her life. She turned over in the bed and gripped the pillow in her hands. An idea flickered through her mind, and she smiled. Tomorrow she planned to call Robin at the university and ask her for advice. Robin would know what to do.

~*~*~*~

Sly got up from bed and padded out to the kitchen. He opened the dented avocado green refrigerator and pulled out some milk. He poured a large glass and shuffled through the kitchen shelves for his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Luke always made sure that they were in stock. He sat at the tiny kitchenette table and dipped one then two and three cookies into the milk until they were good and soggy.

Frankie had never called him. He’d waited by the phone until about 11:30, but still no call. Sly was terminally curious as to how Frankie’s date went. Sly still thought that Maxie was beautiful, but he didn’t mind so much that Frankie was going out with her. Sly reflected that he didn’t really know Maxie all that well, but he sure knew Emily. He smiled with a big mouthful of soggy cookies. Emily was just fine.

~*~*~*~

Ruby sighed as she lay on top of her bed and opened the one photo album that she had of Luke and Bobbie as children. She laughed several times as she perused the old photos. There was one of Luke when he was fourteen and horrendously awkward. It seemed like his nose grew faster than the rest of his face, and there were his bright Spencer eyes blinking and looking startled at being caught in a photograph. Sly kind of reminded her of Luke at that age – all legs and feet. Ruby turned the page. There was Luke at age fifteen. He’d filled out a little and lost some of his puberty strangeness. He was standing on the front porch, leaning against a post and looking like he was an on top of the world Mr. Cool with a bemused facial expression and folded arms. This is who Frankie reminded her of -- this full of attitude, smart aleck Luke, always hiding his pain and disappointments behind that Spencer bravado. Ruby studied Luke’s features and mentally reviewed Frankie’s face. She turned several more pages in the album and stared at the photograph of Luke and Laura’s wedding. Laura had still been in her teens then, and so Ruby reviewed her features as well. There was something that hinted of Frankie in her coloring and the shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and maybe a certain softness of expression. Ruby held her hand to her heart as it fluttered wildly. Was Frankie really Lucky? Had Lucky been kidnapped rather than killed? Ruby recalled Frankie’s New Jersey accent and his flashy signet ring with the FS initials. Frank Smith? Was it possible? Ruby gently closed the album and rubbed her forehead as a headache rapidly approached.

~*~*~*~

Frankie peeled off a $20 bill from the roll of bills in his wallet. His face was red and flushed, and his expression set in stone. The hooker folded the bill and placed it in her bosom for safekeeping. She looked puzzled. "Honey are you sure you want me to leave? We didn’t do nothing." She looked down at her watch. "We have over thirty-five minutes left. I’m ready to go if you want." She studied his face for a reaction, but Frankie showed no emotion. "I want you to get out," he gritted between his teeth. "I changed my mind." A look of hurt and surprise flickered over the hooker’s face, but she shrugged. That was an easy ten minutes and a hundred and twenty dollars. All the kid did was roll around on top of her for a minute until he seemed to get angry and skittish and then jumped off of her. It wasn’t her problem.

Frankie pushed the hooker to the door and slammed it after her. He stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily and looking lost. He ran a hand across his brow and frowned when he felt that it was hot. He took his shirt off and threw it onto the floor in a silky, puddled heap as he stared at it. He removed his pants and turned off the light, leaping into bed and grabbing a pillow. Frankie lay a hand over his eyes as his thoughts raced and danced out of control.

Frankie needed to talk to somebody, but there was nobody around. Johnny was still out, likely would be most of the night with that hot Bobbie Spencer. It was too late to call Sly – he was living with that uptight uncle of his. There wasn’t anyone else he could talk to except maybe that Ruby, but she was surely in bed by now, and he wasn’t going to go knocking on an old lady’s door. He didn’t know what came over him with that call girl. She was just right – tall, blonde, great figure. She felt fine to him as he lay on top of her and moved against her. But then he started feeling sad first, then angry. He didn’t want her - he wanted Maxie. Maxie wouldn’t ever talk to him again, she hated him, he was sure of it. He disgusted her, she was afraid of him and his scars probably. The hookers usually recovered quickly from their surprise. They were used to servicing ugly people. But Maxie wouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe Sly was right. She was better off with him. She certainly didn’t want what Frankie had to offer.

~*~*~*~

Next day…

Hi Robin, it’s Maxie." Maxie held the phone closely to her mouth and craned her neck to see if any Georgie spies were lurking nearby.

"Maxie. It’s a surprise to hear from you so early in the morning," said Robin as she yawned noisily. "I was sleeping. My first class isn’t until 10:00."

"Robin, I’m sorry, but this is an emergency. I need your help," replied Maxie tensely as she nervously twirled the phone cord between her fingers.

Robin woke up a fraction more and sat up on her bed. "I’m all ears," she said.

"Well, I went on a date last night with a boy that I really, really like," said Maxie. "We went to dinner and a movie – it was great. He was nice, respectful, held the door open for me."

"And the problem is?" interjected Robin with a laugh.

"He wanted to go back to his room. We did, he gave us some beers, and then, well…he put the moves on me – real fast, too."

"Okay," said Robin firmly. "Now I get where you’re going. Maxie, how could you be so naïve to go back to that boy’s room by yourself? You know better than that. He probably got the wrong idea. Not that it was right what he did. But that’s a reality."

"How can I fix it?" Maxie asked in a small voice. "I mean, I ran out of there fast enough, made him drive me home, but I still like him. I don’t know what to do." Maxie started sniffing as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I have an idea," stated Robin. "Get some stationary out. We’re going to write him a letter. Maybe this will work. And Maxie, get a brain, please? Don’t do that again. Next time, something bad could happen to you."

"I know," replied Maxie. "I will. I’ll be careful. Thanks for helping me."

~*~*~*~

Frankie strolled through the hallways of PC High School, waving a slip of paper in his hand and chuckling. He loved forgeries. He stopped off at the nurse’s office and plunked the paper down onto her desk with a smirk. The nurse glanced up at him over her reading glasses, then picked up the paper and read it.

~*~

Dear Nursing Officials,

Mr. Frank Demarco is sound of mind and body. He is fine to return to school. However, I recommend that the gym instructor be investigated for cruel and unusual practices. No student should be forced to run miles against his will or ability.

Sincerely,

Dr. Sylvester Smith, MD

~*~

The nurse frowned. "This is from your physician?" she asked incredulously.

"Sure thing," replied Frankie breezily. He looked down at his fingers, inspecting them. "Got a problem with dat?"

The nurse glanced at the note again. "It’s a little unusual," she commented.

Frankie pointed and waved his index finger at the note. "He’s a world specialist in dat alternative medicine stuff. Yeah, dat’s it."

The nurse shrugged and opened up her file cabinet. "I’ll put this on file," she said. "You can go to class."

Frankie gave her a mean look behind her back. Yeah, you bet, he thought.

~*~*~*~

Sly walked up behind Frankie and clapped him on the back. "How was that date?" he asked brightly. Frankie’s face colored, and he looked away. Sly looked nervous. "What’s wrong?" he asked. Frankie shrugged. "She don’t like me," he said softly. Sly laughed. "What? She didn’t want to go to the mall?"

Frankie whipped around and shouted, "You shut up!"

Sly backed up, startled and uneasy. "Ease up," he said lightly with a hurt tone of voice. "I was only kidding around with you. I’m sorry it didn’t go well. Do you want to talk about it?" Frankie looked down at the floor and kicked at an imaginary object. "Yeah, maybe," he said. He took in a deep breath. "It seemed like it went fine at first. Her dad’s a jerk, but what’s new? We went to the restaurant. The food was good, we talked and had fun. Then we went to the movie. I let her pick, and she liked that. I even bought her a superpopcorn. After the movie, she seemed mad about something, but she was nice in the car when I kissed her."

Sly’s eyebrows went up at the mention of kissing. "How was it? " he asked intently, his eyes capturing Frankie’s.

"Nice," said Frankie. He tittered at the memory. "She tastes great," he said in a low tone of voice. His eyes softened. "I like her lots." He cleared his throat and shifted his feet nervously. "We got back to my room and had a few beers."

"Huh?" asked Sly. "How did you manage that?"

"I dunno," replied Frankie innocently. "We ended up there." A grin slowly creased his face. "Okay, I planned it that way. Anyway, we had our beers, started in and that’s when the trouble happened. I think she hates me. I’m ugly or something," he mumbled dejectedly. Frankie blinked rapidly as the tears threatened to approach and overtake him.

Sly laughed lightly. "I don’t think that’s the problem," he stated. You’re not ugly." Frankie’s eyes brightened a bit as he continued to listen to his friend.

"So you put the moves on her?" asked Sly.

Frankie nodded.

"You went too fast, scared her off," announced Sly wisely. "You’re only supposed to kiss her at the front door on the first date."

"What?" asked Frankie, who was startled by this news. "Who made up dem rules? Where did you learn dat?"

"Haven’t you ever dated?" asked Sly, confused. "You sure acted like you knew your way around a girl."

"Women," corrected Frankie. "Not girls. Don’t know nothing ‘bout ‘dem. I only made it with dem hookers."

Sly shook his head. "I don’t know about you," he replied. "I’ve never heard of somebody living like that. What’s your father say or your uncle?"

Frankie looked away. "My father, he…he keeps ‘em. They’re like employees. I get whoever I want except for one or two dat’s his favorites."

Sly’s eyes bugged out. "What?"

Frankie shrugged. "Dat’s da way it is. He let me start callin’ them up a couple of years ago."

Sly frowned. "No way. You’re telling me that you were makin’ it with those women a couple of years ago?

"Sure," said Frankie.

"Special delivery for Frankie DeMarco," stated Emily happily as she interrupted Sly and Frankie’s conversation and handed Frankie a folded and taped piece of stationary. "You guys better get to class," she frowned. "We only have a minute left before the next period starts. Bye-bye," she waved.

Frankie slit the tape with his thumbnail and began reading.

~*~

Dear Frankie,

I wanted to thank you for dinner and the movie last night. I enjoyed spending time with you. Things didn’t go well at Kelly’s, and I wanted to explain.

I never should have gone back there with you. Maybe I led you on by doing that. If so, I’m sorry. I was hoping that you would like me for me, not just that.

Anyway, I thought maybe we could talk some more on the phone and try to work things out? Does that make sense to you?

Bye.

Maxie

~*~

Frankie jumped up in the air and shouted, "Yes!"

"You’re awful happy," commented Sly as the two walked together to class.

"She likes me," stated Frankie brightly. "She wants me to call her so we can talk."

"That’s good," said Sly. "Hey, Frankie. I won’t see you for a week during break. I hope you have a nice time at home. And don’t call any of those women, okay?" Sly slapped his leg, cracking up at his own joke.

Frankie suddenly grew solemn and pensive. "Yeah," he said vacantly. "I guess I’ll see ya later. Have a good time on your vacation."

"I can’t wait – Greece, here I come!" smiled Sly with his thumb held up in the air.

~*~*~*~

Frankie walked very slowly and carefully next to the green sportscar. He casually looked around to see that no one was nearby. Quickly, he squatted toward the ground and looked under the car to see if there were any feet on the other side. He whistled with a low, tense tuneless sound between his teeth, pulling out a metal object from his pocket and inspecting it. His fingers gripped the metal, turning the rough, jagged edge of the key outward. Frankie held out his arm and let the key drag a crazy pattern over the highly polished green paint. He smiled and started giggling as he heard the squeaking sound of the damage being inflicted on the surface. He didn’t notice the swift footsteps approaching behind him, and was shocked to feel the strong arm grabbing him from behind, squeezing his neck tightly.

"I told you to stay away from my car, you psycho," Nikolas Cassadine gritted out in an intense, angry voice. "You and me are going to have a talk. Let’s go." Nikolas pushed Frankie forward and twisted his arm sharply as he led Frankie toward the field behind the school.

"Get the fuck offa me," Frankie protested in a shrill voice.

Nikolas shoved Frankie so hard that he spilled to the ground like a ragdoll thrown into the trash. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he looked up at an enraged Nikolas. "You’re going to pay for the damage to my car," Nikolas stated evenly. "But first I’m going to teach you a lesson."

Nikolas bent down and shoved Frankie onto his stomach, bending to place a heavy knee in the slighter boy’s back. "You’re nothing but a rude punk," Nikolas shouted. "And you and your car ought to go back to Germany." Nikolas grabbed Frankie by the back of his hair and shoved his face further into the grass, twisting his wrist back and forth so that Frankie’s face ground into the green blades, the skin on his cheeks picking up the juice from the torn grass. Frankie tried to curse at the larger boy, but his angry cries were muffled. He twisted and turned his trunk so that he could place an arm near front waistband of his pants. When Nikolas eased some of the pressure off of his back and kicked him in the leg, he turned over with lightening speed. Nikolas’ eyes widened at the sight of a particularly wicked looking pistol held firmly and steadily in Frankie’s experienced hand. A ferocious look passed over Frankie’s eyes, and he sneered, "Back off or I’ll shoot a hole between your eyes and laugh while I’m doin’ it."

Nikolas held up his hands to indicate he wouldn’t mess with Frankie anymore as he slowly backed away. "I’m leaving," said Nikolas. He turned and started running off of the field toward the parking lot. Psycho – he’s totally insane, thought Nikolas as he was running. Frankie lay back on the cool grass and placed the gun back into his waistband, laughing merrily with a wide smile on his grass-smeared face.

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