“Eat me, sis.” Ashton shoved his middle finger in my face and slid back inside.
“I won’t allow this!” I growled to the empty space in front of me.
“I’m eighteen. You can’t tell me shit.”
“Fine! Then I need half the rent before the first,” I countered.
“That’s blackmail!” he screamed from the bathroom. “Besides, I’m already working for free.”
“It’s called internship, asshole!”
“It’s called slavery.”
In my peripheral, Roman was cracking up.
“This is unbelievable.” I gritted my teeth.
“We’ll be in the car, Ms. Evans,” he noted before leaving.
“Do I need to bring my social security card?” Ashton yelped from the bathroom as I shut the door and hurried to look for my phone.
“We’re not going anywhere,” I shouted, dialing Frank’s number. My pulse roared and my hands shook.
His voice on the line was sweet and made me ache all over.
“You can’t do this,” I said. “You can’t just show up here unannounced and fuck up my brother’s birthday surprise.”
“You haven’t returned my calls.”
“You wanted to be alone.”
“Not anymore.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Frank. You hurt me and then send me cheesy presents, hoping a stuffed animal will earn my forgiveness back.”
“You didn’t like the teddy?”
“He’s too big. There’s not enough room for him in my apartment.”
“There is in my house.”
I took a deep breath to defuse the anger rushing through my blood. “I don’t want you to buy Ashton a car.”
“I’m sorry for being an ass.”
“You’re not hearing me, Frank,” I pressed, my voice firm but my legs wobbly. “He needs to learn that nice things only come to those who work hard. Getting him a car right now will undo months of effort. It’s not how you teach someone to be a responsible adult.”
“Please let him have a fun day.”
There was a knock on my door. “Are you ready or what?” Ashton bellowed impatiently and I knew then and there that I didn’t have a choice. It was either let my brother leave with Frank or tag along to ensure he didn’t buy a car he couldn’t drive. Or worse—a motorcycle.
“Okay,” I said into the phone, my tone flat. “You win. I’ll be downstairs in twenty minutes… Actually, make it thirty. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“We can buy coffee on the way,” Frank offered.
“I like my home-brewed coffee better.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”
I took my sweet time getting ready, just to piss him off. There were nine hysteric messages from Ashton on my phone when I finally finished with my hair.
Downstairs, the Escalade waited across the street. Roman hurried to open the back door and I slid inside. Butterflies filled my stomach despite all the anger that still ruled my bloodstream.
Frank was seated next to me. “Hi, Cassy,” he said, flashing me his signature playboy smile, the one he used for the crowds during his shows.
“Hey.” I let my eyes wander over his body. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. A jacket was thrown over his shoulders, right arm in a sling.
We hardly spoke during the drive. My mind was preoccupied with my mother. I wasn’t sure how to tell her about this.
Hey, Mom! The man who may or may not be my boyfriend just bought Ashton a car for his birthday. You can put the money back into your 401k.
Thinking about the range of her possible reactions gave me whiplash.
Ashton enjoyed the spotlight. After assuming DJ duty, he and Frank launched into a lengthy discussion about the lyrical content of Body Count songs.
We eventually arrived at a car dealership in Beverly Hills. The lot stretched over the entire block and looked unapproachable with its glimmering rows of luxury vehicles that my brother had no business dreaming about, let alone driving.
“Frank,” I muttered over Ice-T’s rapping as we pulled into customer parking. “This is too much.”
Ashton killed the music. The door swung open and the hum of the lot poured inside. He jumped out of the car so fast, I didn’t even get a chance to blink.
Frank remained in his seat, his hand covering mine. He turned to look at me and I heard deep, anxiety-ridden breaths. “Please come back, Cassy.”
The words were a shockwave inside my head. A warm, gooey feeling filled my chest. The man didn’t waste time. He went straight in for the kill, bypassing explanations.
“I thought you said this was a relationship?” I glared at him, dumbfounded. My heartbeat thrummed in my temples.
“Yes. It is.” He stressed the present tense. “And I want you back in my life.”
“But that’s not how relationships work.” A shaky exhale left my lungs. “It’s not always about hot sex and midnight drives to Ventura County. It’s about being there for each other when people are at their lowest. And you don’t let me do that for you when you hit bottom. You shut down and you won’t talk to me.”
I didn’t understand how exactly I knew this since I’d never been in a serious relationship before. My knowledge seemed to have been gathered from my own childhood observations of my parents. Everything my father hadn’t been able to give my mother was what I wanted. And I wanted it from Frank. The whole nine yards. I just didn’t know whether he was capable of giving me the things I longed for.
The real Frank Wallace, the one most Hall Affinity fans didn’t know, was a very complicated man. A man with demons who kept crawling out of their hiding places, and the prospect of meeting them terrified me.
“I wasn’t in a good state of mind, doll,” he said quietly. “I had to let you go because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“But you did hurt me, Frank. I cracked my heart open for you and you didn’t even acknowledge it.”
“And I’m sorry. I truly am.”
“I don’t know if that’s enough anymore,” I confessed. “Is this how it’s going to be every time your head isn’t in the right place? Are you just going to shut me out until you feel better?”
“It won’t happen again.”
Ashton’s excited voice slipped into the car. He and Roman were talking to a salesman. “Don’t you understand what you’re doing?”
Confusion flitted across Frank’s face.
I motioned toward the door that was still wide open. “He doesn’t have a father figure in his life. He looks up to you and I don’t want you to buy him a car and then disappear from his life. We’ve already been through this with our father. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to keep him straight?”
“I’m not going to disappear. I want this—us—to work.”
“Well, it won’t work unless both parties are trying, and you haven’t been, Frank.”
His hand squeezed mine. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to get help. Real help.” My voice shook. “I know you don’t think you have a problem, but you do. You’re not thinking straight and you’re mixing alcohol with painkillers. That only damages your body more and delays the healing process.”