“As long as you didn’t like it,” he mumbled against my hair.
“That’s the thing. I wanted to like it, Frank. So I could forget you.”
He was silent. My confession didn’t render any reaction or questions. Having his arms wrapped around me felt nice and familiar.
“You’re not mad? Not even a little bit?” I asked, swallowing down my tears.
“Why would I be mad?” He cradled the back of my neck and pressed his lips to the top of my head.
“That I kissed someone else?”
“I don’t think I have a right to be mad at you. At least, not for the things you were doing while I was gone. I pushed you away. I’m here now to correct all my fuckups. You’ll give me a chance, right?”
“You know what?” I slipped my hands underneath his jacket and hugged his body. My chin pressed to his chest. “Yes. I think you deserve it. I’m proud of you for fixing the mess you created. It means a lot to me. The support you’ve given Isabella and the effort you’ve put into making it right. I love how the film turned out and I love this theater. Thank you for talking to Margerie.”
Frank’s palm cradling my head froze. “Cassy.” A shuddered breath escaped his mouth. “When I reached out to Levi, the venue had already been secured.”
Pulling my face from his chest, I gazed up at him. “You didn’t ask her to reconsider?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”
Shocked, I stared at him unblinkingly. This fact absolutely didn’t diminish the importance of his heartbreaking confessions about his journey that nearly six hundred people had just witnessed on screen, but my mind scrambled. “Then who was it?”
“I don’t know, doll.”
The door swung open and Brooklyn’s head popped in. “Jesus, you two! This is not a high school reunion.” Rolling her eyes, she hurried over. One of the guards trailed behind. “You need to get ready, Frank. They’re about to start.”
Flushed, we were straightening our clothes when the distant noise of agitated voices and footsteps came from the other end of the hallway.
My head snapped toward the commotion. I noted Roman’s bald head and a loud cluster of people near the employee entrance.
I saw him then, behind the line of security. He looked different. Pale. No flashy clothes. No hat. No women attached to each arm.
Frank didn’t move. He stared down the empty stretch of space between him and Dante and I couldn’t read his eyes.
Brooklyn was first to react. “What the hell is he doing here?” She walked down the hall, heels clacking against the cement floor.
The air thickened. Something was happening. I didn’t know what exactly, but the tension was there, deep, ugly, and undeniable. Atoms were shifting. Voices were clashing.
“You need to leave, Dante,” Brooklyn’s shriek drifted from afar. She stopped in her tracks, hands on hips. “If he doesn’t pick up his goddamn phone, that means he doesn’t want to talk to you. I will file a restraining order if you keep doing this.”
“Stay out of it, huh?” He skirted around her and began his approach. Roman positioned his body at the midpoint between Dante and Frank. He stood tall and menacing. A wall separating the two men.
“Frank,” I whispered. “Maybe you should talk to him.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“You don’t need to give him your forgiveness.” My mouth neared his ear. “He’s not well. Just hear him out.”
“It’s his own damn fault.”
I took a step back and pressed against the coolness of the wall. My voice was a soft, tremulous murmur. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Frank. You wanted me to give you another chance after you publicly humiliated me, but you won’t give him two minutes of your time? All he wants is to be heard.”
I had no idea why I was siding with Dante. Our phone conversation had gotten under my skin. We were all part of a broken circle, quietly hating each other for the things we’d done to ourselves and the people surrounding us, and it had become tiresome, harboring grudges and animosity.
“Please,” I mouthed.
Frank’s eyes blazed with pain. The tic of his jaw told me he was struggling.
“I’m not here to rain on your parade, Frankie-boy, but I didn’t have a choice,” Dante shouted, his words soft around the edges. “Because you won’t fucking return my calls.” He paused. “I’m not asking for your friendship back. I just want to talk. Face to face.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Frank turned to look at him. Roman shifted to the side, but the urgency of his movements told me he was combat-ready.
“There’s a whole lot and you know it. Twenty years.”
“You threw twenty years away when you decided to find a replacement for me.”
“You know what?” Dante chuckled. “You haven’t changed a bit. I thought time off may have done you some good, but you’re still a stupid stubborn fuck who thinks he’s invincible. You don’t get it, do you?” A crooked, unfamiliar smile twisted his lips. “You don’t get to drive yourself into a fucking freeway divider and leave everyone to sort the shit you created for seven years and then come back and do the same thing you did in your twenties when you had all your bones. It doesn’t fucking work like that, Frank. You don’t get to start where you left off just to kill yourself for it.”
Frank whipped around and walked down the hallway. A few feet of space separated them.
“There’s no time for this,” Brooklyn tried to intervene. “You need to get ready for the performance.”
“Well, you don’t get to fuck my ex-wife, me, and my band and then pretend it never happened.”
A collective gasp filled the hallway.
“Let’s not make another scene,” I pleaded, rushing over to Frank. “Not today.”
Dante’s gaze swept over to me. “You look very nice, Cassy.”
“You look good too.” I nodded, eyeing his features and searching for something to validate my statement. The slight slant of his left eye told me he wasn’t well. The health issues triggered by his overdose weren’t publicized, but one look at him was enough to see he was a mess.
The door to the lounge flung open, letting the noise of the party spill into the hallway. “We’re about to get started!” a voice shouted. “Izzy’s looking for you, Frank.”
“Okay, I guess if that’s how you want this to end,” Dante mumbled. A small smile tipped up the corners of his lips. “I’m sorry I fucked Heidi. I’m sorry I was a shitty friend. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. Say hi to Margerie for me.” His words were a confused string of whispers, rolling and tripping.
Frank didn’t move, but I felt the wild thrum of his pulse when I grabbed his wrist.
My mind was a warren of questions and ideas. I couldn’t imagine Dante doing anything remotely nice, except maybe talking about nice. Something as big as persuading the woman who didn’t want to work with us because of everything he represented took guts.
“We really need to get going,” Brooklyn whispered.
“So it was you who talked to Margerie?” I returned my gaze to Dante.