— AUSTIN —
12. GOOD VS. EVIL
FOUR PLUS YEARS AGO — NOVEMBER 2012
I ran my hand back through my hair, even though the makeup artist had already finished with me and I was certainly screwing up whatever she had carefully done. I read the text one more time as my feet carried me back and forth across the dressing room that Dallas and I shared.
Mom: Frankie’s plane is delayed.
This was not how it was supposed to go.
I’d moved to Vegas to do this show even though I hadn’t wanted to. I’d put up with rehearsals, and bossy creative directors, and Dallas’s mood swings for three fucking months and the only thing that I wanted, the only thing that I cared about, was that Frankie made it to opening night.
If I was stuck in Vegas, three thousand miles from where I wanted to be, and I was going to do this thing, if I had to put my plans on hold to make Dallas happy, I at least wanted my best friend here to share it with me.
Best friend. That wasn’t even a weighty enough term to cover what Frankie meant to me. She was more than a friend, she was the other half of me. She was….my heart. And I knew that was a cheesy thing to even think, but it was true. Ever since the first day that I met her, I’d found that my heart beat harder and faster when she was around. And when she wasn’t? It felt empty.
I scrolled back through my texts to read our last conversation earlier in the morning before she got on the plane.
Me: Can’t wait to see you. I miss you.
Frankie: Ditto. I have a lot to tell you.
Me: Tell me now.
Frankie: It has to be in person.
Me: Tonight.
Frankie: I’ll be there.
And that was the last I’d heard from her before she boarded the plane. Of course I’d wondered what it was that she needed to tell me in person that she couldn’t say over text. I hoped it wasn’t something bad, something about her dad or Nana. She had been acting more withdrawn lately, strange even, but I thought it was due to nerves about her upcoming visit. She’d never been out of Maryland before.
I rubbed the back of my neck because if I rubbed my chest to ease the pain of the constant ache I felt from missing Frankie, I might screw up the ridiculous costume they’d stuffed me into. If I knocked off any of the sequins, the costume director Lilith would probably go batshit crazy and try to cancel the show. I snagged my sleeve on the cello during dress rehearsal, and you would have thought the little tear I’d caused was a mortal wound by the way she reacted. I think she’d counted every single sequin and rhinestone she’d sewn on my costume before she let me get into it tonight.
And the costume? That was a fucking disaster of epic proportions. I almost bought myself a plane ticket home the first time I had to put it on.
I looked like I’d raided the closet of Elvis Presley…during his drugs and donuts days. My jumpsuit was all white, and once my hair was done to Lilith’s satisfaction, I looked like I could have been an Elvis impersonator at any of the casinos on the strip. Dallas got off easy. He had a jumpsuit too, but it was black. He was the Johnny Cash to my Elvis I supposed. The theme of the show was good versus evil, and the ridiculous costumes were part of that.
I typed out a quick message to my mom.
Me: Will she get here on time?
My mom responded right away. I assumed she was just hanging around the airport waiting for Frankie’s plane to get in. Knowing my mother, she was making the least amount of effort possible. She might be at the airport, but chances were that she was in her car and not even considering going to baggage claim to meet Frankie and help her out.
Mom: Of course. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she gets there before the show starts.
Me: Don’t forget to give her the backstage pass for after the show
Me: I don’t want her to get lost
There was no response for a few minutes, and I wondered if my mother intended to respond at all. Letting her go pick Frankie up from the airport had me more nervous than the show itself.
My mother and my best friend had never gotten along, but once it was clear that Frankie and I weren’t just friends anymore, my mother’s dislike of Frankie was almost full on hatred. Forcing Frankie to hang out with my mom was something I’d never willingly do if I had any other choice. My mom was her own special kind of torture on her best days. But for Frankie? She’d hold nothing back.
Mom: Everything will be fine. Just worry about the show. I’ll see you back stage after.
Someone nudged me in the side, and I turned to see Dallas at my elbow, just as glittery and made up as I was. We looked like we belonged in a drag show instead of a cello show, but he didn’t seem to care. His face was alight with excitement.
“We sold out. On opening night. Every fucking seat! I told you we could do this,” he said, punching me playfully on the arm.
I smiled at him. There was only one seat I cared about, but seeing Dallas so excited to have the chance to live his passion…it was incredible. There were so many people that never got the chance to live their dream. I was not only watching Dallas live his, but I was living it with him.
“Then I guess we better give them the good stuff.”
“We’re going to have them begging for more,” he responded, his hands gesturing wildly. He was like a live wire dragging across the ground and lighting up everything in its path. His excitement made me forget, just for a moment, my worries over Frankie’s plane. “Rising Stars was nothing compared to what we’re going to give them tonight.”
He wasn’t wrong. We’d had months of planning to come up with the most complicated show this casino had seen yet. There were pyrotechnics, a moving stage, and a cast of dancers so massive that I still hadn’t managed to learn all of their names. It blew my mind that people were willing to pay one hundred dollars to sit in the nose bleed seats to watch us perform.
“Let’s give them their money’s worth,” I said, slinging my arm over his shoulder, careful not to dislodge any of the decorations we were wearing.
Dallas looked around in confusion. “Hey. Where’s Frankfurter? Wasn’t she supposed to be here already?”
I dropped my arm and rubbed the back of my neck again. “Yeah. Mom said her plane is delayed. We won’t see her until after the show.”
Dallas was usually too self-centered to notice the discomfort of others, but he’d always been in tune with me. Maybe it was a twin thing. Or maybe it was because I was the one person he knew would support him fully no matter what insane ideas he dreamed up.
“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching up to fix my collar where I’d knocked it askew. “She said she’d be here. Frankfurter will fly the damn plane here herself if she has to. It’ll be fine.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I know. I’m just nervous.”
I wasn’t nervous. Not for the show, anyway. We’d rehearsed the show so much that I was dreaming about Dueling Cellos every damn night. No. It wasn’t the show that had my stomach twisted in knots. I was nervous about being with Frankie again. We’d gone from seeing each other every single day for years to spending three months apart. And even though we still talked on the phone and over Skype, there was something about the distance created by technology that didn’t compare to a warm body and hearing a voice in person.
Would things be different?
No. Of course not. There was nothing that could come between Frankie and me. At least that’s what I told myself.
As part of his performance ritual, Dallas liked to spend the last half hour before show time listening to music, so it was no surprise when I turned around and found him lounging on the couch with his earphones on. In my opinion, he was taking his life into his own hands with Lilith by risking his costume that way, but I had a feeling Dallas could talk his way out of trouble with anyone, even a terrifying costume designer.
To quell my own nerves, I grabbed one of my comics off the table in front of the couch and sat down gingerly on the edge of the cushion, anything to distract myself before the show.
“It’ll be fine,” Dallas said loudly, without looking at me. “She’ll be here.”
I nodded because I knew he was right. There was nothing that could keep my girl away.
When we took the stage thirty minutes later, I looked out into the crowd toward where I knew Frankie was supposed to be, but the lights were so bright that I couldn’t see anything but a teeming mass of people and shadows. I still smiled in her direction, to let her know how much it meant to me that she was there.
It wasn’t until we were back in the dressing room, still high on the performance, that my mother finally broke the news to me.
Frankie hadn’t come.
Back at the hotel, I called and texted, but Frankie didn’t answer. When I contacted Nana Ruth in a panic, she assured me that Frankie was fine, but that she had changed her mind about coming to Vegas. When I asked why Frankie hadn’t told me herself, why she wasn’t answering her phone, Nana Ruth just sighed.
“The girl has it in her head that she’s doing you both a favor.” She muttered something under her breath that sounded like a curse wrapped around a name.
“Put her on the phone. I want to talk to her,” I demanded. What had gotten into Frankie? What had changed since we talked earlier in the day? Everything had been fine this morning. Hadn’t it?
Nana Ruth made a disappointed sound. “I wish I could, honey. But she’s not here. She’s not living here anymore.”
“What? Where did she go?” My mind was blank. I couldn’t come up with a single reason for Frankie not to come to Vegas. I also couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d go instead if she wasn’t with Nana Ruth.
“I can’t tell you that,” Nana grumbled. “She made me promise not to tell, and as stupid as I think she’s being, her reasons are not mine to share. She’s got it in her head that it’ll be better if you both just go your separate ways.”
“Nana...that...that doesn’t make any sense.” I paced the small room in our hotel suite where I’d locked myself in. I fisted my hand in my hair, pulling hard enough that the pain was the only thing to tell me that this wasn’t some awful nightmare. Frankie didn’t come. She was gone.
Somewhere, down below in the ballroom, the after party was raging and I didn’t give a fuck. Nothing mattered but Frankie.
Nana huffed. “You’re telling me. All I can say is that she’ll come around. Eventually. In the meantime, just do your thing, honey. And remember where home is.”
I couldn’t convince Nana Ruth to tell me where Frankie had gone. I never got an apology or even an excuse from Frankie herself. I searched social media, but her accounts were gone. I scoured motocross sites and online boards for a mention of her, but it was as if she’d never existed.
Frankie had chosen to disappear, and she didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye.
As the days wore on and Frankie’s disappearance became more final, a horrible theory took shape in my mind. The only thing I could think of that would cause her to want to go our separate ways was another guy. It made sense. We’d been separated for three months. What if she had fallen in love with someone else? Is that what she needed to tell me? Is that why we’d both be better off? Is that where she’d gone to live?
With her not around to tell me I was crazy, that something like that could never happen, my mind finally settled on that idea. I had left home, and Frankie had given her heart to someone else. She didn’t need me anymore.
Something vital inside cracked that day. My hope. My heart. My happiness. Sometimes the breaking is so traumatic, that you keep on moving and living as if nothing is wrong, but all the while the broken parts are tearing you apart on the inside in ways no one can truly understand.
That’s what that night and every day since had felt like to me…shredding my soul little by little.
***
From the darkness of my room, I watched Frankie lift her head from her arms and then move to the bed, flopping across the mattress before clicking off the light. She didn’t even bother to close the window. When I was younger, it would have been an invitation to come over and visit her without anyone being the wiser. Now, all I could think about was how easy it would be for someone else to come in and hurt her.
I shouldn’t feel protective of her. I shouldn’t worry. But I did.
Maybe it was all those years apart, not knowing what had happened to her. Or maybe it was guilt over knowing I’d sacrificed my dreams with her to help Dallas and I hadn’t been able to protect him either. Whatever the cause, I had to admit that I’d always felt a need to defend Frankie—from the kids at school, from her brothers, from all the people who couldn’t see the amazing person she was.
She might not have needed me to look out for her, but I’d always wanted to.
And she’d never let me.
From the first moment I’d met her, we’d become fast friends. Even now, that feeling of protectiveness, the desire to be responsible for her, was as natural as breathing. The problem was, my instinct and my heart were at war with my brain. My brain was telling me to hate her as much as my instinct wanted me to pull her close and kiss her. It was frustrating that no matter how badly she’d hurt me when she disappeared, what I wanted most was to get lost in her.
And that was stupid because I honestly didn’t know if there was much left of my heart to survive if she betrayed me again.
Since I couldn’t decide what to do—listen to logic or follow my heart—I’d done my best to ignore her. That was the only way I felt I could survive. Maybe that’s why she had reminded me of our prank war. She realized as well as I did that conflict between us, even if it was in jest, was better than nothing at all.
I sat there, watching her dark window, wanting to ask her why. Why didn’t she show up? Why did she just disappear? What had I done? What couldn’t she tell me? I knew that she had loved me once, so what could have possibly caused her to walk away that day and completely cut me off? Even if she stopped loving me, she’d always been my best friend.
Didn’t I deserve to know?
Annoyed, I stood up and set my cello on the stand in the corner and then turned and walked through the darkness to the hallway.
Not only did I deserve some answers, but Frankie was right. She deserved a little payback.
I felt my way through the hallway and down the stairs in the dark, not bothering to turn on any lights until I got to my kitchen. I rooted through the pantry and when I found what I was looking for, a smile spread across my face.
If the only thing Frankie wanted from me right now was a battle, I’d give her one.
***
For all her scolding that I needed to change my locks, Frankie still hadn’t done it either. I supposed there was no point in changing out all of the handles and locks if she and her brothers were just going to sell the house anyway, but it still made me nervous that I could get in so easily. How many other people had gotten a key to this house over the years? And here she was living alone.
I let myself in with the key on my Red Hot Chili Peppers keyring. Then I crept up the stairs, trying to keep the two trash bags I was toting from making too much noise. Although I wasn’t sure why I should bother. Frankie wouldn’t wake up even if I drove a donut truck through her front door. And with her addiction to donuts, that was saying something about her ability to sleep like the dead.
When I reached the door to her room, I let the trash bags fall to the floor, and I pulled the folded-up newspaper and roll of masking tape out of my back pocket. It was close to sunrise, so I quickly taped the newspaper loosely across the trim around her doorway from floor to ceiling so that there was a huge space between her door and the paper. Once that was done, I took the first trash bag and carefully started to dump the contents into the pocket of space I’d created.
It had taken me all fucking night to pop two trash bags worth of popcorn. But it’d be worth it. When she opened her door, she’d have an avalanche of popcorn that would probably take longer to clean up than it had taken me to pop.
I’d just finished dumping in the last of the second bag when the alarm of a clock radio began to blare on the other side of the door. I paused, waiting to hear whether she was going to hit snooze. I glanced over my shoulder to the room behind me where I could see through the window that the sun had started to rise. But that shouldn’t mean anything. Frankie liked getting up early about as much as she liked Jared Bennet, which is to say she hated both.
As I stood frozen in the hallway, my arms still poised over my head in the act of dumping popcorn, I heard a groan and a few muttered curses before the soft pad of footsteps crossed the room.
What the hell was Frankie doing getting up this early? Weatherby wouldn’t show up for another three hours, and from all the years I’d known her, she’d professed that being awake before the sun was only acceptable if one had pulled an all-nighter.
Before I could puzzle out an answer, the door opened inward with a strong whoosh that sucked all of the popcorn with it. I could easily see everything over the edge of my wall of newspaper.
She let out a screech of surprise as kernels of popped corn cascaded around and past her, covering the floor of her room. Frankie’s head whipped around in confusion as she took in the massive amounts of food now littering her bedroom floor. I watched as gusts of air from the ceiling fan above blew popcorn under her bed and dresser.
I slowly lowered my hands and dropped the now empty bag on the floor. As she muttered incoherent words, I contemplated whether I should laugh or haul ass out of there before she came to her senses and went for the baseball bat she kept hidden underneath her bed.
For several long moments, Frankie just gazed around in astonishment at the drifts of popcorn that had buried her up to the knees. She didn’t seem to know how to react, and I was enjoying every second of her disbelief. It was even better than the whipped cream pie to the face.
Frankie’s hands fluttered uselessly at her sides as if trying to force herself to make some sort of appropriate response. She was dressed in the same tank as the night before, but the shorts were gone, and she had nothing on but a pair of black lacy panties. She also wasn’t wearing a bra which was like the cherry on top of my perfect prank. I was feasting on the sight of her, and it probably would have taken a five-alarm fire to get me to blink let alone walk away.
Frankie lifted her chin until her gaze found mine. I was expecting fury or anger, but her eyes were filled with heat.
Or was that devious cunning? Either way, I was in trouble.
She reached out and tore the paper away with one quick swipe of her hand. With nothing separating us anymore, she stepped out of her room, the popcorn crunching under her feet, as she approached me.
She raised her hands, fisted them in my shirt, and then she was pressing me backward. Despite the fact that she was half my weight, I didn’t fight her. My breath punched out of me as she slammed me against the wall and then her hands let go of my shirt only to grab the sides of my face roughly. She pulled me down until our mouths met in a kiss that was a lot like the one we had in the kitchen. There was nothing sweet or tender about it at all. It was like the moment a spark falls into a pile of dry leaves and fire flares up like a starving and treacherous monster that consumes everything in sight. Burning. Hungry. Unstoppable.
There was four years of pent up desire raging between us and, like air feeding flames, the fire of that longing was racing through me leaving no thoughts…only want. The more my mind tried to remind me of what she’d done and how she’d hurt me, the more I wanted her closer. To never let her leave.
Frankie’s hands slid down to my jaw and then shifted around the back of my neck, holding my mouth to hers, causing my body to curl over and around her. My fingers gripped the slim curve of her waist, my thumbs trailing her sides as my hands moved lower to cup her hips and pull her closer.
When she leaned in and her body went flush and tight against me, it was like something snapped inside. Like gasoline had been poured on the ashes of our past only for it to roar back to life in a painful inferno of hate and love and hurt and betrayal.
It was like coming home to be able to touch her again. I kissed her hard and deep until she gasped for breath. My mouth followed the slight tilt of her head and then I was sucking her lower lip into my mouth, biting just enough to make her moan the way I remembered. Then my lips were on her throat, going for the sweet slope of her neck where I knew my kisses would make her shudder and unravel in my arms.
When she said my name on an exhale, my heart lurched like it could reach around her and tuck her deep inside to keep forever.
My hands went the swell of her ass, and gently lifted until her legs did as I wanted and wrapped around my waist. Her mouth was on mine again, begging mindlessly between kisses as I walked into her bedroom and waded through the drifts of popcorn. Frankie squeezed with her legs, her kissing becoming more frantic, her hips moving against me, as I got closer to the bed.
When I set her down, she kept her hands linked around my neck, and her feet hooked behind my back to pull me down with her. I rested my weight on my elbows and knees, but Frankie wriggled beneath me, arching and trying to pull me closer. It was taking every ounce of control I had not to rip off the flimsy pieces of fabric she was wearing.
“Frankie,” I murmured against her mouth, half in protest, half in urging.
Her hands left the back of my neck only to fumble with the hem of my shirt as she tried to yank it over my head. Breaking the kiss, I pushed up on one elbow to reach behind me with the other hand and pull the t-shirt off in one vicious tug. She grabbed it out of my hand and tossed it to the side as if she was preventing me from putting it back on. I held myself above her and gazed down, noticing the flush of her cheeks and the way her eyes darkened as they swept over me.
Her fingers lightly traced the muscle of my arm, brushed over my shoulder, and then trailed down my chest, her warm palm flattening against my skin. “You look… different,” she whispered.
I was different. But I didn’t say that. “I was just a boy.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “My boy.”
There was a twist in my heart, but before I could pull away or do any of the things my mind was warning me to do, she pushed herself up onto an elbow, threaded her fingers into my hair, and pulled me down into another hot kiss.
When I’d tossed her on the bed, her legs had fallen to the sides to make room for me between them, but now her heels hooked behind my knees and urged me closer. I gave in and pressed against her, hard against soft, and she gasped into the kiss. And then our hips were moving, and I was grinding into her like it was the first time making out with her.
My palm was spread over her breast, my thumb teasing and pulling the fabric of her tank lower, causing her nipple to harden under my touch. I was rocking into her and Frankie’s body moved underneath me, riding every thrust of my hips with a roll of her own. When her hand slipped into the waistband of my shorts and she started to inch them down, I mirrored the action and twisted my fingers into the tiny slip of fabric that stretched over her hip.
She broke the kiss, and at first I thought she was going to tell me to stop, but she said, “Condom?”
My fingers stilled, and my hips did as well. “I don’t have one. Not here.”
I shifted away, and she held on tightly to my bicep. “I saw some when I was cleaning. They’re in the attic. In one of Pauly’s boxes.”
Cringing, I shook my head and chuckled. “Mentioning your brother’s name? Total mood killer, Frankie.” My voice was still raw with need, and her eyes flashed, reflecting it back at me.
“Just wait here. I’ll get it.” She started to wriggle out from underneath me, but the idea of sitting in her room, waiting awkwardly for her to get back wasn’t something I was going to do.
I sighed and pushed back onto my knees. “I’ll get it. Which box?”
She bit her lip as if to argue but then gave in. She quickly explained where the box was, and I fumbled across the room through the popcorn. Reaching the hall, I jogged down to the end and pulled open the door to reveal the stairs that went to the attic.
The first thing I noticed was that the risers, which used to be just worn wood, were now covered in carpet. I walked up slowly, and the smell of paint was like a smack in the face. I reached the top, and if I hadn’t known I was in the DiGorgio attic, I never would have recognized it. The old rustic wooden floor was now covered in plush, wall-to-wall carpeting. A new ceiling fan had been installed, and the walls were a fresh coat of light blue.
Boxes were piled neatly along the walls, labeled with the items inside. Frankie and I had spent much of our childhood playing in the old rafters, hiding from her brothers, making up games, and talking about our dreams. But the magic of the old, forgotten space was now gone and had been replaced with a pretty, generic makeover.
I stood in the middle of the room gazing around, the shock of losing another piece of our past together tearing away at my heart. I took a few steps toward the boxes and read the labels on the side.
Pauly.
Jimmy.
Tommy.
Frankie.
Yard Sale.
Yard Sale.
Yard Sale.
There were more boxes labeled “Yard Sale” than anything else. I flipped open the lid of one of the boxes and found a lot of the old figurines and knickknacks that Nana had left around the house as decorations. Another box held dishes. And another had clothes.
I even found one with Frankie’s old stereo and her collection of CD’s. The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Californication” was sitting on top. I snapped the lid of the box shut, the old feeling of hurt and betrayal burning in my chest. I ran my hand back over my hair and took a few steps back until I was in the center of the room again.
This used to be our hideout, our special place. And someday soon it would be someone’s office. Or an extra bedroom. I pressed both palms against my eyes as my mind raced.
What was I doing? Frankie and her brothers were planning to sell this house. What did I think was going to happen? That I’d just sleep with her and everything would go back to the way it was? That she’d stay in the house and everything that happened between us would be magically fixed?
I was so fucking stupid. It’s not like she actually cared. Not anymore. If she had, she wouldn’t have ditched me in Vegas. She wouldn’t have disappeared for years without a trace.
I spun around and headed for the stairs, racing down them and bursting into the hallway like I was escaping a burning building. Popcorn was spilling out of Frankie’s doorway into the hall and there was a trail of it that led from her room to the attic.
My hand was on the newel post, and I was about to take my first step downstairs when I heard my name. I looked over my shoulder to see Frankie leaning out of her room, a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. She was still in that nearly see through tank top and tiny black panties.
Her eyebrows dipped low when she saw me. “You’re leaving?” she asked around the toothbrush.
I turned to face her, keeping my hand on the top of the post. “I think it’s best.”
She tilted her head in confusion and took the brush out of her mouth. “For who?”
The tone of her voice held a layer of pain, and my first instinct was to apologize, but then I remembered in a few weeks the house would belong to someone else and she’d be gone again.
“This is just temporary,” I said, gesturing between us. “You’re fixing up this house and you’re going to sell it so what’s the point of us even…bothering?”
Agitated, I put my hands on my hips, and my head dropped as I shook it in frustration.
“It was so simple for you to leave and not look back. I mean, look how easily you wiped out our entire childhood.” I pointed toward the attic door. “You packed it up in boxes, and you’re going to hock it in a yard sale. I just…” I sighed and shook my head again before looking up. “There’s no point in…” I gestured between us and then shrugged.
Frankie stepped out of her room and crossed her arms, but not in anger. It was almost as if she was protecting herself. She swallowed and then bit the inside of her cheek to control the quivering of her mouth. “So what? You were just going to leave? You were going to walk away without even saying goodbye?”
I held her gaze for so long I almost couldn’t bear to speak. But I finally said, “You did.”
The expression that crossed her face could only be described as destroyed.
I’d done that. And it gutted me to be that person. To wield that kind of pain on someone.
I turned from her and hurried down the steps before she could see that I was just as ruined as she was.
The sun was bright, the day holding promise for beautiful summer weather, but my mood was dark. Maybe I was the one who should have been wearing the black jumpsuit for Dueling Cellos because what I’d just done to Frankie was cruel. I might have thought I wanted to see her suffer, but when I finally saw the way my careless words hurt her like no one else’s ever had, I knew that Dallas was never the bad guy in this story. He was never the one who destroyed my future with Frankie.
I was.
I chose to leave first.