— FRANKIE —
3. SAUSAGE JOCKEY & SHARPSHOOTER
I wiped the sweat from my upper lip with my t-shirt and glared at the dusty boxes stacked around the old attic where I’d spent so many childhood days. Although I had the windows open, it was still hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock on the Fourth of July.
I cringed at the thought that had come automatically. Two rats fucking? Why had Nana always said that? That wasn’t hot…that was fucking nasty. Although Pauly used to say it was hotter than Lucifer’s taint and that made me want to gag even more. The only thing worse than the word taint was imagining a hot sweaty one.
I walked over to the window for a breath of fresh night air, which was only slightly less muggy than the rest of the attic, and caught a glimpse of the large pool next door. It was lit up and begging me to come take a dip. I’d heard the truck leave hours ago and right now, the temptation for relief from the heat was almost too much to handle. I’d spent many summer days splashing around in that pool with Austin and Dallas. It would be so easy to hop over the fence, jump in, and cool off with no one the wiser. I could be in and out in about two minutes flat.
I sighed. If I had to call Pauly to come bail me out of jail because I got caught trespassing in the new neighbor’s pool, he’d never let me hear the end of it. And in a town as small as this, no one else would let me forget it either. My midnight dip would be just another check mark in the column of DiGorgio legacy of wrongs.
I kicked at one of the boxes, wishing it was my dad’s ass I was kicking instead. I loved him, but I’d still love to kick his ass. If he had just led a straight life, we wouldn’t have struggled as much. He would have been there for us. He would have been there for Mom and Nana. I wouldn’t be here fixing up my childhood home just so we could sell it. I kicked the box again for good measure and felt a bit of satisfaction when I realized it was a box of Pauly’s. It was basically a juvenile delinquent starter kit—paintball gun, sling shot, switch blades, pellet gun, and a shit ton of ammo.
Seriously. How had he not followed straight in Dad’s footsteps?
Shaking my head, I blew a breath of air to get the hair out of my face and glanced around. I’d been up here for hours, and I’d barely made a dent in the work to be done. I kept getting sidetracked by memories, and I couldn’t keep my thoughts from straying to things I’d done my best to forget over the last four years. I knew that spending my summer cleaning and fixing up the house wasn’t going to be a picnic, but I also never imagined that someone would be living in the Stone house. It had been empty for so long. And now that my air conditioning was on the fritz, I was not only tired and irritated, but sweating like a pig in a bacon factory.
And now I wanted bacon.
Shit. It was already close to midnight, and I was meeting Drew Weatherby early tomorrow to get some estimates for work to be done. So, with an urge to fry up some bacon and trespass in the neighbor’s pool vying for control of my body, I decided the best course of action was to take a cold shower and head to bed.
A cold shower would fix everything.
Well, almost everything.
***
I shot upright in bed, my arms flailing and punching through the darkness. The air was humid and heavy, covering me like a blanket, and loud music was disturbing the peaceful night.
What the fuck?
I looked around my old bedroom for a few panicked moments to remember where I was. But even when I figured that out, the loud, pounding music and happy screams made no sense to me. I rubbed at my eyes with my palms and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I could feel the music rumbling through the floorboards as if it was coming from downstairs. But that was impossible. I was all alone.
I groaned as I tilted my head toward the open window where a slight breeze was ruffling the curtains. I pushed to standing and headed for the square of moonlight—the same window I’d climbed in and out of about a million times as a teenager. Even though I had the whole house to myself, I had still chosen the smallest room and my old bed to sleep in. Some habits were hard to break.
My room on the second floor had a view of the Stone house, and when I leaned onto the windowsill and out of the open window, I saw the cause of my rude wake-up call.
People. Lots of people swimming and partying. In the middle of the fucking night.
I shuffled back toward the bed and picked up my phone to see that it was almost one o’clock in the morning. I’d only been asleep for about an hour. I collapsed onto my mattress with a yawn, the old springs creaking in agony, and pulled the pillow over my head to block the racket coming from next door. The party wouldn’t go on too long. It couldn’t possibly.
But after another fifteen minutes, I was still wide awake and the midnight swim party had turned into an all-out rave. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep through the pumping rock music and shrill screams, so I decided it was time to meet the new neighbor.
And tell them to shut the hell up.
I leaned over the side of the bed and reached for my clothes, pulling on the shorts I’d been wearing earlier. I couldn’t find my flip flops, so I shoved my bare feet into my beat-up Converse sneakers. I shuffled down the steps, out my front door, and across the lawn, my anger increasing with every step I took. It wasn’t until I’d already pounded my fist against the front door that I realized I’d forgotten to put a bra on under my tank.
Fuck it. My asshole of a new neighbor couldn’t expect me to be respectable when I was so damn tired.
Laughter echoed to where I stood at the front door as footsteps approached down the front hall. I was still reminding myself to be cordial when the door swung open.
And there he was.
My heart plummeted to my feet, sucking all of the air out of my lungs as it went, and leaving me gaping like a fish out of water. I was desperate for breath.
Austin Stone.
The boy who was once my best friend. The boy who stole my heart. The boy I loved. The boy who went away to chase his dreams and left me here all alone. The boy I’d lied to. The boy who would never forgive me for what I’d done.
When he saw me, his carefree expression disappeared, replaced by a look of distaste. I could almost hear him grinding his teeth as I watched his jaw twitch. He wasn’t happy to see me.
He was also no longer a boy.
“Austin?” His name came out broken, like it was torture to force it out of me. His hair was the same mess of dark waves it had been four years ago, and his ice blue eyes were still framed by thick dark lashes and a pair of fuck-me glasses that made him look like Clark Kent on steroids.
But Austin wasn’t the same as he was when he left. He’d always had a sweet, cute, nerdy look that I’d loved. But this? Now he was a big serving of hard body, sprinkled with a healthy dose of nerd, and topped off with a big dollop of lick-worthy muscles. Austin Stone was all grown up. And a fucking hottie.
“What do you want?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing as his top lip lifted into a sneer. His gaze swept over me, but even though it lingered a second longer than was necessary on my chest, he met my eyes again with something that could only be described as hatred.
He didn’t ask where I’d been for the last four years. Didn’t even seem to care. Maybe I’d made the right decision after all.
“I…I didn’t know you were living here,” I muttered. I muttered? I never muttered or tripped over my words. Especially around Austin. I was Frankie-fucking-DiGorgio. I was the terror of our tiny town.
He crossed his arms and leaned against the door jam, the noise from the party echoing behind him. “Didn’t know it was any of your business.”
His words punched a hole through my heart, making me flinch from the pain of his evident malice toward me. I waited a few measured beats and then raised my eyebrow, determined not to let him know he’d hurt me. “That’s how you greet me after all this time? What? Are you too good for this town now? Why are you being such a prick?”
His hands twitched, and for a moment I thought he was going to pull me to him like he’d done so many times. I wanted him to tell me how much he missed me. I wanted him to ask me why I never came to Vegas to see him. I wanted him to demand why things ended. I was torn between the desire to confess everything about my life for the last four years and the fear that he’d hate me if I did.
Finally, the edges of his mouth curved up into a smile, but it wasn’t the same one I’d grown up with. This smile held an edge of unfamiliar cruelty, and when his eyes dropped to my chest again, I had to resist the urge to cover up. Austin had seen me at my best and my worst. I had nothing to hide from him.
Well. That wasn’t exactly true.
Besides, this wasn’t my Austin anymore.
“Why are you standing on my front porch?” he drawled, suggestively. “Hoping for an invite?”
I released an annoyed breath. “You woke me up, asshole. I came over to ask you to keep the noise down.”
“Is that so?” He smirked.
“It’s the middle of the night.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Never bothered you before.”
I tilted my head, trying to figure out why he was going out of his way to be a jackass. Austin had never been cruel, and I didn’t like this version of him. Over the years, I’d imagined seeing him again—millions of times—and although I knew he’d be angry with me for ditching him in Vegas and then disappearing, I hadn’t expected him to be a total dick.
“Just keep it down. I have to get up early tomorrow,” I snapped back, my irritation taking hold.
His smirk turned into a wicked grin. “Good to know.” And then he slammed the door in my face.
I stood there staring at his wooden front door for a long time wondering how things could have gone so horribly wrong between us. I’d only been trying to do the right thing in an impossible situation. I wished I could explain that to him. But to explain that, I’d have to tell him the truth and I didn’t know how. Couldn’t trust how he’d react. It was too much of a risk.
It wasn’t until I heard people shouting Austin’s name from the back of the house that I realized he was truly gone and I remembered to take a breath. It hurt that he’d walked away so easily.
I threw my shoulders back and then turned from the door, making my way down the front steps which looked as if they were brand new. I walked through the thick grass, crossing his yard into mine. I heard his voice in the distance, and watched as he came out of his house and approached the pool. Like a magnet unable to resist the pull, his head turned and his eyes locked on me. He tipped his chin at me, and then held my gaze as he reached over to something on the table and then turned the music up even louder.
What. A. Jackass.
I glared at Austin as he strutted over to a beautiful blonde girl in tiny denim shorts and a lacy white tank. He scooped her up in his arms, and she kicked and screeched happily as he jumped into the pool with her, just like he used to do to me.
I didn’t watch them come up for air.
***
I stomped angrily on every single step on my way up to the attic.
He wanted to play games and act like an asshole?
I grinned to myself as I rummaged around in one of Pauly’s box of things I’d packed up earlier.
Fine by me. Austin might have a few tricks up his sleeve, but I perfected the asshole act years ago. I had a whole summer to get through here, and if he was intent on making me suffer by throwing loud midnight parties, I was going to take him down with me.
I found what I was looking for and held it up triumphantly, feeling a rush of adrenaline as I stuffed it in my back pocket. A maniacal grin took over my mouth as I gathered everything else I needed. Then I tugged on the cord to turn off the bulb dangling from the ceiling before I ran down to my room, stuffed my goodies into an old canvas shoulder bag, and pulled on my favorite black sweatshirt.
It was too hot for long sleeves, but it was time to go ninja on Austin Stone and remind him that he used to be a nice guy, a guy who cared about others. I wasn’t about to let him turn into an asshole and get away with it.
As I hurried down to the main floor and crept out through the back door, I remembered all the other times I’d snuck out of the house to make mischief with my brothers or Austin. The memories were just as sharp and clear as they were years ago, and instinct had me catching the screen door so it didn’t slam shut and give me away. Not that anyone could have heard me over the music, but it was habit. The windows of my house were shaking with the thrum of the bass from next door and I knew that noise, along with the darkness, was going to make this way too easy.
Just another shadow in the night, I slipped through the yard and into the woods that ran along the back of our neighborhood. Being careful not to get caught up in the sticker bushes, I tiptoed through the brush and undergrowth until I was behind the Stone house with a good view of the party.
In reality, there were only a handful of people there, but they were making enough noise for a crowd ten times that size. I squinted my eyes trying to see who was there, but I didn’t recognize anyone. That realization gave me a sick fluttering in my stomach. Theoretically, I knew that Austin would meet new people, make new friends, maybe even date someone. But knowing that and seeing that were two different things. Watching him surrounded by strangers and seeing how happy he was? It was like a wound, fresh and raw, forcing regret to burn in my eyes. Four years was a long time to be apart from one another, and there was so much about Austin I didn’t know anymore.
Which only made me want to hold my secrets even closer.
I watched as he hauled himself up out of the pool followed by the tiny blonde girl who was drenched from head to foot. They’d gone in with all their clothes on, and she was giving her best impression of a wet t-shirt contest. I had to admit she had nice tits. If I were a horny bastard, I’d probably throw her in the pool just to see that top all wet, too.
A few people were sitting on floats in the water while others lounged in chairs on the deck, drinks in hand. Austin was laughing as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head before flinging it in a wet, sloppy mess to the ground.
Well. Fuck me sideways.
Please.
Austin was acting like a dickface, but he was a fucking hot dickface. That there? That was not the body of an uncertain seventeen-year old that let the rowdy girl next door get him in trouble. That was the body of a man who was trouble.
Who would have thought that my shy, nerdy, cellist would grow into that kind of magnificence? I mean, he always had magnificent hands. Really fucking talented hands and fingers if I was honest with myself. But shit. Austin Stone was magnificent all over now.
A magnificent prick, I reminded myself.
My eyes darted to the wet t-shirt girl who laughed and then stumbled into Austin so that her hands were all over his naked chest. He caught her and held her steady until she’d regained her balance. She took her sweet ass time doing so.
“You got me all wet!” she drawled loudly over the music, her words dripping with sexual innuendo.
I almost sprained my eyeballs I rolled them so hard.
Really Austin? This is what you like now? This fucking sausage jockey? Seriously? She definitely looked like an experienced rider. Hell, even I could see that her flirt game was top notch.
I was a little ashamed to admit to myself that the girl made me even angrier than the loud music. Time to break this party up so I could get back to bed.
I pulled Pauly’s old slingshot out of my back pocket and then rummaged around in my canvas bag until my fingers found the box of ammo. I scooped out a small handful of paintball pellets and then carefully cradled them in the curve of my fingers as I used the same hand to pull back the slingshot pouch. Aiming in Austin’s general direction, I let loose, and the balls flew through the darkness. I didn’t see where they landed, but I heard them hit their target just fine.
“Ow! Something bit me!” the blonde whined. She reached down to touch her leg, and when her hand came away covered in red paint, she started screaming. “I’ve been shot!” She collapsed into Austin’s surprised embrace, and he lowered her to a lounge chair to get a better look.
I hadn’t meant to hit her, but I couldn’t say I regretted that she became collateral damage. Her reaction was worth the mistake, and I tried to hold back my laughter as she orchestrated an epic freak out. Playing off her hysteria, which was drawing the attention of the rest of the crowd, I let the next round fly. Paintballs peppered the patio and water, and people scrambled to get out of the pool as they shouted in panic.
“Oh my God! Call nine-one-one,” the girl wailed. “I’m losing so much blood.” She clamped her hand over the spot where she’d been hit.
Austin looked around nervously, his friends ducking for cover like they were in a war zone, before turning his gaze to her leg. He pulled her hand away and then frowned when he wiped his hand across the spot of red and found no wound.
I saw his lips form the words, “It’s paint,” as his eyebrows drew together in confusion.
Before he got out another word, I aimed and fired again.
His body shot upright and his back arched as his left side took about a half a dozen direct hits.
Man. I was good.
I didn’t waste any more time. I continued to reload and shoot, aiming for the sound system. Paint splattered all over the speakers and Austin, making it clear exactly what the target of my anger was. The partygoers hurried to escape my onslaught, one of them tripping over a table and taking down the entire sound system in a glorious crash that cut the music off.
Perfect.
As I continued to shoot haphazardly, Austin looked in bewilderment at the chaos around him, wiping the paint off his ass and taking in the splotches of paintball explosions everywhere. Then his head turned and his gaze immediately honed-in on the woods. By the way he was scanning the darkness, I knew he couldn’t see me, but I also knew my time was up. I let one more handful of paintballs fly just as he started heading away from his patio and toward my hiding spot.
“Where are you going, Austin?” the blonde cried out, irritated.
“I’ll be right back,” he answered, not even bothering to look at her as he placed his hands on top of the metal fence surrounding the yard and leaped over it with ease.
Holy hell. Someone has been working out. Time to retreat.
I shoved the slingshot into my back pocket and held the bag close to my side as I started running back toward my house, crashing through the undergrowth and making no attempt to be stealthy. I had no doubt that if I didn’t haul ass, Austin would catch up to me, and I couldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Branches and thorns snagged at my clothes, but I could barely feel the tears they left on my skin. My body was humming with the excitement of what I’d just done. Distantly, I could hear Austin in pursuit as he followed me and my heart pounded with the thrill of the chase. As hard as I tried to be a respectable and upstanding citizen nowadays, I had to admit…I missed this.
Breaking through the woods in the darkest part of my yard, I scrambled up the steps of the porch and threw myself through the back door, locking it behind me. Laughing uncontrollably like a lunatic, I crawled across the floor until I got to the closest window and peeked over the edge. I was just in time to see Austin exit the trees with something in his hand. Something that looked suspiciously like my—
I reached for my back pocket.
Shit. I’d dropped my slingshot. Excuse me…Pauly’s slingshot.
Before Austin could make his way to my porch and bang on my door, the sound of sirens echoed off in the distance. He turned toward his house as the flashing red and blue of a police car scattered light over the lawn and across his face. His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head in annoyance, casting a frustrated glance at my house before jogging over the grass toward his own.
Staying low, I scurried into the living room to get a better view. I used the edge of the curtain to wipe the dust off the window so I could see better. Austin’s party guests trickled out of his house and gathered on his lawn. A few curious neighbors also came outside or surveyed the scene from their windows. As I watched everything unfold, I wondered how the police had gotten there so quickly.
Maybe they heard a DiGorgio was back in town and they were on standby, a small voice muttered in my head.
Austin met the officers at their car and began talking to them. He seemed angry enough that I worried he just might turn me in whether there was evidence against me or not.
Fuck. I reached up and yanked my ponytail tighter in worry. I was going to end up in the back of a police car my first night home. This would be like giving my brothers the best Christmas present ever. They might not even mind making the trip to bail me out of jail as long as they had this to hold over my head for the rest of my life.
But ten minutes later, after taking Austin’s statement and receiving a shake of his head, the cops left. Relief flooded my chest when I realized they weren’t going to interview any of the party guests. I was surprised the mouthy blonde hadn’t called an ambulance for herself. Austin went inside, and soon after, people began leaving. The excitement of the night was finally over.
To be honest, I was a little disappointed.
***
Thirty minutes later, I’d just gotten myself tucked back in bed when there was a heavy banging sound coming from the first floor. I reached under my bed and grabbed Jimmy’s old baseball bat. I’d shoved it under there earlier when I realized I’d have to leave the windows open if I didn’t want to suffocate in the sweltering heat. Without turning on the light, I crept down the stairs, staying close to the wall and scanning the darkness. As I got closer to the bottom, the banging started again, and I realized it was coming from the front door.
My head dropped back in defeat, and my head knocked against the wall. Crap. Maybe Austin had pressed charges and sent the police for me after all.
Before opening the door, I peeked out the side window and saw Austin on my front porch. He looked fucking furious.
Satisfaction settled deep in my gut for his reaction at least.
He raised his fist to beat on the door again and I swung it open, leaving him standing there with his hand raised like an angry Statue of Liberty.
“I have a doorbell you know,” I told him. “You don’t have to beat the door down.” I leaned against the edge of the doorway, my hand resting on the top of the baseball bat, not quite threatening, but not quite meek either. I gave him a shit eating grin.
The hand that had been raised to knock immediately dropped by his side where it curled into a tight fist. “I know it was you,” he growled in answer.
“Of course it’s me.” I blinked innocently at him. “Who else would it be answering my door in the middle of the night?”
He took a menacing step toward me, and I lifted my chin in defiance to keep my eyes on him. There was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of intimidating me. I wouldn’t give him so much as an inch.
“You dropped something, Francesca,” he said, snarling my name like it was a pile of shit he’d stepped in. I schooled my expression into one of indifference even though he knew I hated when he used my given name. He held up Pauly’s slingshot between us.
I looked at it. “That’s not mine, Beethoven,” I countered, hurling his awful, pretentious middle name at him like a backhand. And honestly, I was telling the truth. If he looked at the handle, he’d see Pauly’s name scribbled on it in messy letters, not mine.
He took another step toward me, and when I refused to step away in response, his hard body pushed into me, pressing me backward. His arm lifted and braced against the wood behind me. His glasses were gone, but instead of looking like the heroic Christopher Reeve Superman of the eighties, he looked like the tragic version from Superman III—the one ready to go on a drinking binge and act like an epic asshole—all while looking drop dead gorgeous.
Austin’s head bent down as he locked eyes with me and for a moment, I was sure he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to. Needed him to. It had been so long. My lips parted in expectation and want, the heat of him settled against me with aching familiarity.
His head dipped lower, and my eyes fluttered shut as his lips hovered next to my ear. “Francesca?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper.
I’d never liked my given name. It was too girly and formal and so unlike me. But when he said it like that, I kind of wanted to be the girl that could make him say my name that way over and over again. Forever.
“Yes?” My response was so vulnerable. So unlike me.
“If you want a war, you’ve got one, sweetheart.” His sentence ended in a sneering growl as he pushed away from me and took a step back.
I blinked my eyes open. Sweetheart? Oh hell no. I was going to rip his balls off.
“What?” Irritation shot the word out of my mouth like I was snapping a towel at him. There was no way I was going to let him get away with calling me “sweetheart.” I was not some insignificant tramp who fetched him beers at the local bar while wearing Hooters shorts.
Austin grabbed my hand and lifted it firmly, but not roughly. He turned it over so I could see the traces of red paint on my fingertips that I hadn’t noticed before. One of the paintballs must have broken inside the bag while I was in the middle of my assault.
“I know it was you,” he said.
I snatched my hand out of his grip and looked at him like he was insane. “You don’t know anything,” I huffed.
He reached for my hair and even though I leaned back out of his reach, he managed to free a leaf from my tangled ponytail. “It was you,” he said brandishing the evidence from the woods.
I shrugged. “Then press charges.”
His lip curled with a smile that held a wicked promise. I’d never him look so devious. Austin was laid back, the one who let things roll off him like water off a duck’s back.
“What fun would that be?” He stepped away and held my gaze, his eyes blazing. “If you want a prank war, I’m happy to oblige.”
I didn’t want a prank war. I wanted the old Austin back.
I scowled at him and crossed my arms. “A prank war? What are we? Ten?”
He chuckled darkly and turned to walk down the steps. My slingshot was tucked in his back pocket, which was covered in paint splatters. “You started this,” he warned, throwing a look at me over his shoulder as he avoided the broken step.
I barked out a laugh. “Hardly. You’re the one who was keeping me up all damn night.”
Putting his hand on the banister, he turned to face me, taunting me with a cocky grin. “In your dreams, darlin’.”
Sweetheart and darlin’? He really had a death wish. I stiffened in annoyance. “Not likely, twat sniffer,” I said, pulling out one of Pauly’s favorite insults. “Speaking of twats, I think your girlfriend is probably wondering where you are. She needs you to come kiss her boo boo.”
His expression darkened for a moment before he wrangled it back into careless bravado and gave me a smirk. “Jealous?”
Yes. I forced a look of exasperation. “You can sniff whatever you want. I just thought you had better taste.”
“I guess I’m not known for my taste in women,” he shot back.
His comment hit me dead center, and I wondered if he could see me slowly bleeding from the crippling words he’d just flung my way. As if he’d done no more than given me the weather forecast, he spun around and headed for his house, calling over his shoulder. “Watch your back, Francesca. This game is just getting started.”
My hand instinctively moved to cover the spot where my erratic heartbeats were stuttering and tripping as I watched the only boy I’d ever loved walk away, knowing he had the ability to deliver the fatal blow that could destroy my heart for good.
Watch my back? More like watch my heart.
The boy I fell in love with? He hated me.
If I ever thought I could trust him with the secret I’d been keeping for the last four years, he’d just taken that urge and drop kicked it. I’d always thought that one day he might give me a second chance, an opportunity to confess, an opportunity to be forgiven. But this bitter, cruel man? He wasn’t my Austin anymore.
As I shut the door, things became clear to me. I had made the right choice all those years ago, and Austin didn’t deserve to know the sacrifice I had made for him.