Chapter Fifteen
Frankie packed some extra heat before he left his room to go downstairs to the convention. He tucked his favorite pistol into the front waistband of his pants, a switchblade in his pants pocket, and a smaller pistol into his sock. He lowered the pant leg and smiled at Michelle. "Let’s go, sugar," he said as he motioned toward the door.
Frankie walked up to Johnny’s door and knocked. Johnny hurriedly opened the door as he was checking one of his pistols and ensuring that it was filled with bullets. "It’s showtime," said Frankie with dead eyes and no enthusiasm gracing his voice. Johnny looked closely at Frankie. "You okay to go tonight?" he asked lightly. Frankie nodded. "I skipped the pain pills. Gotta drink tonight. You know me. If I don’t, the men will wonder what’s up." Johnny nodded and sighed as he closed the door to his rooms. "I think you’re right," he agreed. "Be careful tonight. Keep on your toes. Don’t drift too far way from me," instructed Johnny tensely.
~*~*~*~
"Sylvester! Nikolas!" Luke walked by the two sleeping teens and shook them briefly, calling them awake. "Up and at ‘em guys," he said happily with his hands on his hips. "We’re preparing to land, and the pilot wants us to buckle up."
Sly sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. "We’re in Greece already?" he asked. Luke looked at his nephew with a bemused expression. "You’ve been sleeping like a log for the last four hours. And thank you for eating every last potato chip." Sly shrugged his shoulders as he played with the seat belt. "We were hungry," he explained. "That’s a mighty selective hunger you have," Luke teased. "You only honed in on the goodies and left the dinners intact." Sly scrunched up his face. "Those dinners stink," he explained as if his uncle had never had the misfortune of sampling food served on an airplane. Luke ignored him to concentrate on Nikolas. "Here you go," he said as he handed a sleepy Nikolas a paper napkin. "You still have chocolate smears on your cheeks," said Luke, pointing toward Nikolas’ face. "I’m surprised you slept at all with that raging sugar high you must have had." Nikolas grinned sheepishly, aware that Luke was only teasing him. "You go ahead and eat all the chocolate donuts," Luke said, waving a hand in Nikolas’ direction. "I’ll preserve my youthful figure, and you can get fat."
When Luke left the boys to go buckle up, Nikolas turned to look at Sly who shrugged and grinned. "Better get used to it," he explained. "It’s going to be like this the whole trip." Nikolas smiled back. "He’s okay. He seems like fun."
~*~*~*~
"Stefan!" Stefan looked up abruptly from the paperwork littering his desk. Laura waddled into the study looking chagrined. "The baby has decided that today is a better day to be born," she explained breathlessly. "My water’s broken, and the contractions are coming. We need to get to the hospital right away. I’ve already phoned the doctor."
Stefan stared at Laura with a white face. "I thought you were going to have a caesarian on Thursday. It was all planned."
Laura laughed while she grimaced with pain. "You know what they say about the best laid plans, sweetheart. The baby has other ideas. Let’s go!"
~*~*~*~
Stefan nervously darted his eyes back and forth from his struggling wife seated beside him to the road. He gulped and tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry to do that. "You’re not having the baby yet, are you?" he asked with a fearful voice.
"No, Stefan," Laura said patiently. "Not yet. Keep your eyes on the road, okay?" Laura made panting noises and pursed her lips as she rode out the latest round of contractions.
Stefan wiped one then the other of his sweaty palms on his pants. "I don’t remember being this nervous the last time, when Nikolas was born," he explained. "Maybe it was because we were younger? Or perhaps not aware of the fragility of life."
"Oh, I remember trying to push the baby out with the distraction of a young man who was hopping up and down so quickly that he hyperventilated and had to be carried off," laughed Laura. "Thanks for the funny memory. It makes me feel better."
"Oh," replied Stefan. "I forgot about that. Maybe things didn’t seem so tense since you had the baby on the island."
:"Less tense for you, maybe," retorted Laura. "Your creepy mother was skulking about the whole time. I was afraid she was going to steal the baby from my arms."
"Well, you don’t have to worry about her anymore," said Stefan with a resolute tone of voice.
"Yes, thank goodness," Laura sighed. "Our lives couldn’t be more perfect now."
~*~*~*~
Frankie squared his shoulders, bent his neck quickly left and right to get the kinks out, and entered the ballroom with Michelle on his arm, and Johnny on his tail. He wore a confident, man of the world expression on his face, smiling and greeting people as he swaggered for effect. He was suddenly transformed from a fifteen-year-old kid with a serious problem at home to a gangster that appeared to have the skill and grace of a forty-year-old businessman. Frankie accepted a mixed drink from a passing waiter and sipped on it while he scanned the crowd, searching for his father. He sauntered over to the far windows near the piano player. "Frank," he said heartily with a broad smile. "Frankie," replied Frank as he slapped his son on his back and looked pleased. The two escorts, Cathy and Michelle eyed one another and conveyed their subtle, mutual disapproval with a series of eye and lip movements. Many pairs of eyes were focused in the direction of the powerful father and son team that controlled almost a billion illegal dollars in the worldwide underground economy. Frankie consciously lengthened his spine and now came in height to Frank’s shoulders, the junior partner in more than one way. Father and son moved across the room, greeting and joking with associates, the perfect team, always in control. Frankie finished his first drink and picked up another. "That’s my boy," said Frank with loud approval. The associates near him nodded and laughed. Yes, Frankie displayed that he was a man in many ways. Frank was briefly grateful for one set of Spencer genes. Frankie’s ability to hold a lot of liquor gave the kid a certain maturity in the men’s eyes, a tough quality that didn’t need to be manufactured. One of Frank’s frequent back slaps hit a bit too low, and Frankie tensed with a nearly silent, sharp intake of breath and a quick stiffening of his back muscles in response to the sudden, shooting pain in his kidney. Frank’s brow creased as he felt Frankie jerk under his hand. He shook off his curiosity when Frankie laughed loudly at one of the nearby associate’s jokes.
~*~*~*~
Luke patted Sly on the shoulder. "Don’t forget your fishing gear," he reminded. "We carried it onto the plane with us." Luke turned toward Nikolas. "Do you go fishing on the island, Nikolas? We’re real interested in seeing what the Aegean has to offer."
Nikolas shook his head. "I’ve never been fishing before," he admitted. "What’s it like?"
Sly’s eyebrows shot up in warning, but Nikolas frowned lightly, confused as to what Sly was trying to convey to him.
"What?" asked Luke incredulously as his eyes bugged. "No fishing? How old are you, son?"
"Seventeen," Nikolas quickly replied.
"Then it’s time you learned," Luke stated decisively. "You’ll fish with Sly and me. You can use my new fishing pole, courtesy of my generous nephew, and I’ll teach you everything you need to know."
"That sounds like fun," said Nikolas with a smile. "So you’ve been fishing for a long time?" he asked politely.
Nikolas ignored Sly’s desperate cutting motion that he made with the side of his hand at his neck.
"Oh, I have LOTS of fishing stories," started Luke.
"All of which we’ve heard – many times," interrupted Alexis.
Luke grinned. "But Nikolas hasn’t heard my stories, have you?"
Nikolas shrugged. "Well, no, but…"
"I have so much to tell you," Luke said warmly as he put an arm around a now worried Nikolas’ shoulder.
"I told you to stop while you were ahead," warned Sly out of the side of his mouth as they made their way toward the exit at the front of the plane.
Luke cleared his throat. "I’ll never forget the time about twenty years ago when I was fishing in Lake Placid. It was only me, nature and a rickety rowboat…"
Alexis rolled her eyes and made a face at Sly, who cracked up laughing.
~*~*~*~
"Robin!" Maxie called out excitedly as she dropped her magazine on the coffee table.
"How’s my little sister?" Robin asked as she hugged Maxie.
"Great. How’s my big sister?" Robin and Maxie had decided to call each other sisters since their relationship was hard to figure out logically - - Mac was Robin’s uncle as well as Maxie’s stepfather. The term "sister" seemed to fit their easygoing relationship.
"Spring break is the same time this year both for the university and high school," stated Robin. "Why don’t we have some fun this week? I thought I’d drive home and surprise you!"
"Cool," said Maxie. "When are we going shopping?"
"And you read my mind," laughed Robin. "Let me tell Uncle Mac and Felicia "hi," then we’ll do some killer shopping."
~*~*~*~
Maxie sipped the last of her Coke and sighed. "I am so tired," she complained. She glanced down at the five packages lying on the floor near her feet. "And broke," she added.
Robin looked at her little "sister" with a serious expression on her face. Robin’s brown eyes sought out Maxie’s blue ones. "Did you make up with this Frankie guy?" she asked. "Last time I talked to you, you had someone deliver that letter we wrote."
Maxie’s eyes lit up. "Oh yes! Frankie called me the other day. He apologized, and we decided to go out to dinner when he returns to Port Charles."
"Where is he from?" Robin asked curiously. "When did he move to Port Charles?"
"He’s originally from Philadelphia and moved here about six weeks ago," stated Maxie as she twirled her drinking straw between her thumb and forefinger. She laughed and blushed. "He has this funny accent, like he’d be a mobster if he starred in a movie. But I don’t even notice when I look into those blue eyes."
Robin’s right eyebrow rose an inch. "People from Philadelphia don’t usually have accents like that, Maxie," she explained. "Are you sure that’s where he’s from?"
Maxie shrugged. "That’s what he said."
Robin picked up the check and inspected the individually listed items and totals as she dug into her purse for her wallet. "So you’re still comfortable seeing this boy after what he pulled on you the other night? Do you think he’ll behave himself?"
Maxie frowned. "Robin, I thought you were on my side," she protested. "You helped me write that letter, and he still wants to see me. I want to see him. I think we can work it out. I just won’t go back to his room anymore. We’ll stay out in public – go out to eat and see a movie."
"Glad to hear it," said Robin smiling. Robin reached over the table and laid her hand on top of Maxie’s. "I just want you to be safe and happy. Don’t make the same mistakes that I did. I’d rather you be safe most of all. Be sure that he respects you, and if things ever get serious, make sure you carry a condom with you at all times. Promise me."
Maxie’s eyes filled with tears when she considered the implications of Robin’s advice. "I love you, Robin," she said tearfully. "You’re the best big sis a girl could have. I’m sorry you have so much to deal with. I hear you. I’ll always make sure I practice safe sex because you care enough about me to hammer it into my thick head." Maxie’s pretty face set with determination. "And if Frankie wants to see me, he can play by my rules, which means no sex – for now."
Maxie shifted and sat back in her seat. "He has a new BMW," she whispered conspiratorially. "It’s so cool – leather seats and everything. He says his father gave it to him for his birthday – his dad is a rich businessman. But he’s real busy, so Frankie lives with his uncle right now. His uncle is pretty cute, too!"
Robin listened intently to Maxie. Something felt off about this young man, she could sense it in her bones. "What did you say his last name is?" she questioned.
"DeMarco," stated Maxie. "His name is Frankie DeMarco.
~*~*~*~
"It’s early in the morning!" Sly exclaimed as he walked with his uncle toward the waiting limousine. Luke patted his nephew on his back. "It’s called jet-lag, Sly. Welcome to the wonderful world of international travel. We all had some sleep on the plane, so we’ll stay awake for the rest of this day here in Greece. Tomorrow we should start to feel more normal." Sly craned his neck and breathed in deeply, looking up and squinting at the bright, Mediterranean sky. "It’s so warm and beautiful!" he exclaimed. "The color of the sky is so different from anything I’ve seen in Port Charles.
"Welcome to Greece," said Nikolas with a bright smile. He hugged his aunt and held her hand, swinging it happily. "It feels great to be back, doesn’t it?" he asked with a low voice. Alexis met her nephew’s eyes and nodded wordlessly.
~*~*~*~
Stefan sat in a chair in Laura’s hospital room holding his brand new daughter. His eyes filled with tears as he gently stroked the copious black hair scattered on top of her tiny head. He kissed her forehead and glanced over at his exhausted wife. Laura was resting with her eyes closed. The birth, surprisingly, had been relatively easy with only an additional hour of labor after reaching the hospital. She opened her eyes and smiled at the sight of her husband holding their baby daughter.
"Lesley Alexandra Cassadine," he crooned to her. "That’s a large name for such a small girl." Stefan noticed that Laura was watching him and rose to hand the infant back to her mother. Laura’s face reflected a mixture of emotions, some joyful, some sad. "Thank you for agreeing to name our daughter after my mother. I miss her," she sighed. "But Lulu makes me feel like my mother’s legacy will continue through her granddaughter. Maybe she’ll grow up to be a doctor and save lives." Inwardly, Stefan cringed at his daughter’s new nickname, but he had named Nikolas, and now it was Laura’s turn to name their daughter. Besides, she also bore the name of Stefan’s favorite grandmother – Alexandra Cassadine. A single tear trailed down Laura’s cheek. Stefan stroked her hair and whispered, "You’re thinking of the son you lost?" Laura nodded, but smiled through her tears. "I have a new infant to love and cherish," she said with the determination of a mother.
~*~*~*~
Frankie was growing tired and thinking longingly of his large, king-sized bed. He’d been "up and on display" for over five hours now. He’d led the first of two strategy sessions, and then served as master of ceremonies for the entertainment that ranged from strippers to wild tiger animal acts. He was a little tipsy, too, after drinking ten or twelve cocktails throughout the evening. Every time he finished one, someone thrust another into his hand. Besides, the alcohol numbed the anger and fear that he felt being welded to Frank’s hip the whole time. When he started loosening the bow tie that Michelle had so carefully tied for him earlier, he felt a soft hand on his arm and looked into the bright green eyes of his escort.
"Why don’t you let me remove that for you later, when we’re alone?" she teased him. Frankie knew that she was trying to tell him to cool it, to stop fiddling with his clothes when he was in so public an audience. Michelle had helped him a lot at these social functions, giving him tips and redirecting him when he went off course. Frankie smiled and leaned in to capture her mouth in a kiss that intensified as the alcohol started talking to his libido. He pulled Michelle into his arms and pressed himself against her as he explored her mouth and ran his hands over her hips. When he finally came up for air, he blushed as the men around him began clapping and laughing. Frank made a motion toward Frankie with his cigar and smirked, "Like father like son!" The men around him nodded and chuckled. Frankie smoothed his tux and frowned lightly. He didn’t like being compared to his father constantly. He was his own man now. Frankie reached for another drink and grabbed Michelle’s hand to cross the room and separate himself from his father. In his hurry to escape the area, he became separated from Johnny. Several men stumbled into Johnny’s path, and Johnny hurriedly shoved them out of his way as he tried to follow close behind his boss.
This was definitely the partying and mingling portion of the evening festivities, and many associates were drunk or on their way there. The giant ice sculpture that earlier in the evening appeared to be a beautiful, graceful swan was now a melted hunk of indeterminate ice. Frankie strode past the sculpture and headed toward the piano player on the opposite end of the room as Frank. Frankie was in the mood for some serious tunes, a few Sinatra favorites. He gritted his teeth as he pulled Michelle behind him. She had a hard time keeping up with him in her delicate, silver, strappy sandals. Frankie ignored her when she said in a breathy voice, "Hey, slow down a bit." Frank had always insisted that he and his son should remain at the parties until the bitter end, so Frankie was now determined that he was going to enjoy at least a small part of the occasion. He gulped his drink down and threw the glass onto the floor, not bothering to stop to find a waiter. Frankie didn’t realize it, but the angrier he became, the more his behavior resembled Frank’s.
Frankie was now far away from Johnny, who desperately tried to catch up with his boss. He had a hard time steering around small groups of drunken men that staggered left and right – always in his direct path it seemed. The noise was deafening as associates shouted and called to one another from across the room. When Frankie reached the piano player, he leaned toward the grand piano and requested a few tunes. "Can we hear some Sinatra? Some good stuff for a change?" he asked impatiently. "How about "Hidden Persuasion" and maybe…" Frankie never made his second request. As he requested the first tune, a dark-haired man standing about ten yards away casually brushed up against a tall man with cool blue eyes and bright blond hair. He whispered something in his ear and moved off quickly.
Johnny’s sharp eyes continually scanned the area around Frankie as he hurriedly made his way over to the piano. He saw the jerking motion that the tall, blonde man made as his hand brushed his waistband. Johnny quickly reached for his gun, but the man fired off four shots before Johnny’s well-aimed bullets met their mark. Almost as soon as Johnny shot the man, he regretted that the dead man would tell no tales. They wouldn’t know who had ordered a hit. The tall man flew backward with two bullet holes fatally dotting his forehead, causing two red rivers to run left and right down the sides of his permanently shocked face.
Michelle screamed loudly as Frankie first flew forcefully forward onto the piano with the impact of a bullet hitting his back, and then whipped around with his hand on his gun. He didn’t have a chance to fire as he was quickly assaulted by three more bullets that first threw him to the side then onto the floor face first. The hit man and Johnny had used silencers, but Frank looked up sharply in alarm when he heard Johnny scream, "Frankie!!!" at the top of his lungs. When Johnny arrived at Frankie’s side and knelt down beside his still boss, Michelle was crying and shrieking, and pandemonium had broken out in the vicinity of the hit. Johnny turned over Frankie and took in a sharp breath as he saw the blood seeping all over his front, reddening the white ruffles on his shirt. Frankie was pale as a sheet, and his eyes remained closed even as Johnny slapped his cheeks repeatedly. His right arm was extended away from his body with his pistol still gripped firmly in his right hand. His body jerked several times, and Frank looked down in horror when he finally shoved his way near his son.
"Let’s get him out of here!" Frank ordered in a harsh voice, and he, Johnny and two other men gently lifted Frankie up by his arms and legs, and almost ran with him out of the party. The four men burst into a nearby, unused room and carried Frankie over to a bare table covered by a white tablecloth. They lay his body down as gently as they could and whipped off their own jackets in a frantic motion. One man closed the door behind them, and Frank and Johnny proceeded to strip Frankie so they could determine the damage to the kid and what their next moves should be. Frank pulled his son’s jacket from under him, and Johnny began ripping at his shirt. Frankie lay still and unmoving with his arms far out from his sides, still gripping the gun. Frank pried the gun from Frankie’s hand and placed it in his own pocket. "How’s he hurt?" Frank asked worriedly as he glanced at Johnny. Johnny noted the indentation in Frankie’s bulletproof vest –right over the heart - but he quickly began unstrapping the vest when he noticed the wet blood thickly covering his boss’s right side. Frank pulled the vest over the boy’s head and threw it on the floor. They carefully rolled Frankie onto his stomach to check for other injuries and lifted his undershirt to reveal a long gash marring his side and twisting toward his back. Johnny dabbed at it with Frankie’s shirt and sighed with relief. "No penetrating bullet wounds," he announced. "His vest must have gotten loose after being hit in the chest with the first bullet. Another bullet grazed him in the side, causing the tear in his flesh. He might need stitches."
Frank swallowed when he noticed Frankie’s other side, which was horribly black and blue with a large red spot fanning his son’s kidney. "What’s this?" he asked as he lay a hand on the kidney. "That’s where you kicked him in the kidney yesterday," stated Johnny unemotionally. "He had blood in his urine, so I took him to a doctor off the estate. He has some drugs, and he should be okay if he stops drinking so much. The doc warned him about that." Frank nodded wordlessly. "He should have told me he needed a doctor," he said flatly. Johnny replied, "You know how he is – he’s too proud."
The men turned Frankie back over, and Johnny started talking to Frankie, trying to get him to wake up. "Why is he unconscious?" asked Frank curiously. "There are quite a few blows to his body," Johnny pointed out. "He’s going to have some bad bruising. And I think he might have had a shock to his heart." Johnny lifted up Frankie’s undershirt, pulling it over his head. "See that?" Johnny showed Frank the terrible redness and swelling that would soon turn into bruising over the kid’s heart area.
Frankie frowned and coughed, turning from his left side to his right. His eyes shot open when he felt the contact of the table with his injured skin, and he rose to a sitting position on the table. He started panting and looked shocked when his hand brushed his side and then came back full of blood. He looked back and forth from Frank to Johnny’s worried faces. "What happened?" he asked. "Where’s my gun?" he frowned. Frank reached into his pocket and handed Frankie his gun. "Assassination attempt," explained Johnny. "I took him out, but he got off four shots before I could kill him. Your vest protected you, but it slipped to one side, and you have a flesh wound. You’ll be okay."
Frankie nodded and continued to look dazed. "Thanks," he said to Johnny.
Frank started pulling Frankie off the table. Frankie stumbled and bent over in pain, but Frank yanked him upright. "Put your vest back on," he ordered. "We’re going back out to show the men what the Smiths are made of. Let them see that you are fine, and the hit man is dead." Frank roughly pulled the kid’s vest over his head and led him out of the room.