Crazy For You (11 page)

“I got home early. Where’s Roxie?” He glanced past
her.

“She’s not here,” Candy said, and still didn’t
move.

“Candy…I live here too.”

“Oh, yeah.” Realizing that she had to let him in,
she moved aside.

Roxanne had gotten lazy where her makeup was
concerned. Instead of taking it off at work, many nights she’d wait
until she got home. Maybe it didn’t have so much to do with
laziness as it did the inherent need to get out of that place.

She inserted the key in the front door’s lock while
humming a tune. She opened the door, feeling no pain. When she saw
Frank standing in front of her she stopped singing abruptly and
froze.

Frank pulled her to him. He was about to kiss her
when he noticed all the makeup. Too much makeup for a normal girl
to wear.

“Got a little carried away with the makeup, didn’t
you, Roxie?” he said, studying her face.

“I…ah…I had it done at the mall. Guess they didn’t
do such a great job, huh?”

Great job
? She looked like a hooker. But
Frank was satisfied with her story and let it go.

Hours later, just past three in the morning, Frank
slept soundly while Roxanne lay in his arms, wide-awake. She didn’t
want to hide the truth from him any longer, and she didn’t want to
wait until the morning to tell him either. Besides, he’d be
thankful that she loved him enough to help him.

“Frankie...” She shook him, eager to earn his
praise.

Nothing.

“Frankie.” She shook him harder. “Come on,
Frankie…wake up.”

“What?” He moaned.

“Wake up. There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Can’t it wait until morning?”

“No it can’t. Wake up.”

“Okay. Okay.” He grumbled and sat up.

“I’ve been helping you,” she said, fully expecting
him to be grateful.

“What?” Frank looked at her.

“Financially,” she said. “I’ve been helping Glenna
support the band.”

“I thought your money was all gone.” It was more of
a statement than a question.

“It is.” Fear crept up from the back of her mind.
“I’ve been working with Glenna.”

“What?” Frank hissed. Fire shot from his eyes. He
was wide-awake now.

His reaction confused Roxanne. He was supposed to be
appreciative, not angry. “Frankie...I did it to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” He threw the covers
back and barreled out of bed.

“But I wanted to help you,” she said. “Just like
Glenna helps Glen.” Why didn’t he get that?

In the dark, Frank searched for his blue jeans. “If
Glen wants to let his wife be a whore—” He found a pair of pants.
“—that’s on him.”

“What...?” Panic scratched her voice.

“I never wanted
you
to be a whore.” Frank’s
anger became a scalding fury that almost choked him. “How could you
do that?” He realized the blue jeans he’d been trying to put on
were Roxanne’s, and hurled them across the room. Finding his own
pants, he dove into them. “How could you do that to us?” He
snatched his tee shirt off the nearby chair, pulled it down over
his head and then stopped long enough to toss her a glare that he
hoped would project all his anger and humiliation onto her. “How
could you, of all people, turn into a whore?” Frank snatched up his
shoes and walked out.

Roxanne chased him down the stairs. “Frankie...” She
reached out to him. He jerked away. “Please...let me explain.”
Tears blurred her eyes, but it didn’t stop her from seeing that his
accusing glare was glued to her.

“I’ve gotta get outta here,” he ripped out the
words. “You’re a whore!” He gave her a brutal scowl just before he
turned and stormed away.

The sound of the slamming front door echo through
Roxanne. She jumped. Slowly, she sat down on the stairs and let the
tears fall.

Well, now she knew where she stood. Nowhere. Frank
had made it clear exactly how he felt about her. She saw no use in
pretending differently. Not anymore. In his eyes, she was nothing
but a whore.

You’re a whore
…
you’re a
whore
…
you’re a whore
…kept running through her mind like
a scratched record. Her worst fears had come to life. It was
over.

The next morning, it took every bit of energy
Roxanne had to push aside the mentally-draining anguish and drag
herself downstairs. Downstairs, she would have to face Candy. And
when that happened, she’d have to face the fact that Frank had
walked out on her.

Listlessly, she headed into the kitchen and grabbed
a glass from the cabinet. She plucked the o.j. from the fridge and
focused on pouring herself a glass. Wrapped up in her sadness, she
barely noticed Candy coming into the room.

“Good morning,” Candy said.

Roxanne nodded, but didn’t speak.

Her lack of chatter surprised and puzzled Candy.
She’d expected Roxanne to be in a great mood now that Frank was
home. “Frank still sleeping?”

“He’s gone,” Roxanne said vaguely. Her red and
swollen eyes never left the carton of juice as she put it back in
the fridge.

“Where’d he go?” The thought that he could be gone,
for good, made a fleeting appearance in Candy’s mind—just not long
enough to get stuck there.

“I don’t know,” Roxanne said easily, as if it didn’t
matter. “My guess would be Rich’s place.”

“Rich’s place...?” Candy was confused. “When’d he go
over there?”

“Last night.”

“Last night?” Candy repeated Roxanne’s words in a
quick, bewildered tone. “What happened?”

“It’s over.”

“He found out.”

“I thought he would appreciate my help,” Roxanne
said as if he should. “But instead…he hates me now.”

“He’ll calm down,” Candy said. “He’ll be back.” She
wasn’t even sure that she believed what she was saying.

“It’s too late for that.” Roxanne shook her head.
“He made it quite clear what he thinks of me now. He thinks I’m a
whore.” She needed more time to ease the pain. “I don’t see any
reason to continue this farce of a relationship.”

Clearly, Roxanne had made up her mind. In her eyes,
Frank should be thanking her for what she’d done. Instead, he’d
condemned her and walked out. As far as she was concerned, he ended
their relationship when he did that.

The telephone rang, startling Roxanne. She knew it
was Frank.
He probably just wants to tell you you’re a whore,
again
. She looked at Candy. “Get that would you?”

Without argument, Candy answered the phone. She
listened to Frank’s repartee as she looked at Roxanne. “It’s for
you,” Candy said to her.

Roxanne shook her head. “Tell him I’m not home.”

“She’s not here,” Candy said into the phone.

“Tell her she can call me at Rich’s,” he said.

“I’ll let her know,” Candy hung up the phone. “That
went well.” She rolled her eyes.

“Why is he doing this?” Roxanne asked, as if she
didn’t get his motive.

“Because he wants to talk to you,” Candy said, a bit
annoyed. She paused for a moment to push her subjective feelings
aside, but couldn’t resist offering her two cents. “And you really
should talk this thing out with him.”

“Why?” Clearly, Roxanne didn’t see the sense in
prolonging this mess any longer. “I don’t want to talk to him,” she
said. “It’s over.”

During the next few days, Frank burned up the phone
lines calling eight or ten times a day. Yet, he could never get
Roxanne on the phone. She refused to talk to him, and he was just
about fed up. Did she really think he would to let it go so easily?
It wasn’t over until
he
said it was over. And it definitely
wasn’t over, not by a long shot. She might as well get ready to
face him because he intended to see her whether she wanted to or
not.

Frank laid on the condo’s doorbell.
Come on
.
Somebody open the door
. He knew she was in there, and he
intended to sit on the bell until somebody let him in.

The door opened, and an uneasy look washed over
Candy’s face when saw him. “Frank…I don’t think she wants to talk
to you right now.”

Frank shoved past Candy. “I don’t give a damn if she
wants to talk to me or not. But I’ve got a few things to say to
her, and she’s going to listen.”

“Frank...” Candy grabbed at him, missing, as he
headed up the stairs.

He stopped long enough to glare at her. The fire in
his eyes issued an unmistakable warning, and he said, “Stay out of
it, Candy.”

Roxanne, still in her robe, was methodically
applying makeup to her emotionally-drawn face. If she heard Frank
storming into the dressing room, she didn’t let it show.

“We have to talk,” he said in an almost peaceful
voice.

Roxanne dusted her face with loose powder. “I can’t
see that there’s anything left to talk about.” Her eyes never left
her reflection in the mirror.

“Put your makeup down and look at me,” he said in
that same cool tone. “You’re not going back there.” He waited for
her to comply. When she didn’t, he snatched the makeup from her and
threw it against the wall. “I told you to look at me,” he said in a
choked voice. “Look at me, damn it.”

His actions didn’t affect Roxanne one way or
another. She merely reached for her flauntingly sexy dress, dropped
her robe and eyed him with a vacant stare before slipping the
garment over her head and down her body. “Look...” She tried, but
failed to reach the zipper on the back of her dress. “I really
don’t have time to argue with you. I’ve gotta go, or I’ll be late.”
Her cold glare left him as she turned away.

She wasn’t listening. Frank had to do something to
get her attention. He couldn’t let her go back there. The thought
of other men touching her drove him crazy. Rage made him grab her
wrists harder than he meant to. “Take that dress off!”

“Let me go.” She stood her ground with a festering
detachment.

“I’ve already told you—you’re not going back
there!”

Sensing Frank was out of control, Roxanne tried to
pull away. But her efforts to free herself were fruitless. He
clenched her dress in tight-gripped fists, and Roxanne’s soul
deserted her body, fleeing to the other side of the room.

She couldn’t do anything except stand by horrified
as he ripped the dress from her body.

The next thing she knew, she was crouching on the
floor by the bed. Naked. Weeping and shaking wildly, she tried to
cover her body, her head, and her face with her arms—all at the
same time.

Seeing her like that, so helpless, Frank caved. He
knelt beside her and gathered her frigid body in his arms. He
dragged the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around her.
Holding her close, he wondered why she didn’t understand.

Frank loved Roxanne so much that he couldn’t bear
the thought of another man touching her. If that’s the price he had
to pay for success, well then, it was too high. “Don’t cry,” he
said in a soothing tone. “It’s going to be okay. But you have to
call them now.” He reached for the phone on the nightstand. “Tell
them you quit,” he said calmly, holding the phone out to her.

There was something unbalanced residing in the
undertones of his voice. Roxanne took the phone, fearful of what he
might do if she didn’t obey.

“You belong to me,” he said as she dialed the phone
number. “I should have known better than to leave you alone like
this. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to handle all those
people out there just waiting for the chance to take advantage of
you.”

Roxanne heard someone say “
hello
” at the
other end. She looked at Frank with fear—fear of what she was
seeing in him—and it pounded her heartbeat a little faster.

“Hello,” she muttered into the phone, “this is
Chris.” She identified herself by the working name she’d chosen. “I
was just calling to say that I won’t be back.”

Once she’d said that, Frank took the telephone from
her. “Don’t worry,” he said, hanging up the receiver. “I’m not
going to let anything like this ever happen again.” He gave her an
unsettling smile. “I’m going to take care of you. Just like I
should have done from the very beginning. I’m not going to let
anybody else ever get close enough to you to do anything like
this…not ever again.”

Roxanne held onto the comforter and made her way
into the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door and slipped
into her robe, then decided a couple of Valiums were in order.

She popped the cap, and Frank walked in. Roxanne
froze, dropping the bottle and the pills scattered.

Frank bent down and scooped up a handful of the
pills and looked them over.
Valiums
. “Roxie honey…do you
have any more of these?” he asked calmly enough.

She nodded in a slow, agreeing motion. Without a
word, Roxanne retrieved the Triavil from the medicine cabinet and
handed them over.

“You can’t take these anymore,” he said in a gentle,
coaxing way.

Roxanne watched, horrified, as Frank dumped the
pills into the toilet and then flushed. He gazed at her with a
frightening smile.

“Frankie,” she said weakly, “I need those
pills.”

“No you don’t,” he corrected her. “You don’t need
anything but me.”

Frank cut her off right then and there. She suffered
a few minor symptoms for a few days. But soon, she was back to
normal. Well, about as normal as she could get at that point.

Frank had always been one to learn from his
mistakes. And he learned this lesson all too well. Now he realized
he had to shelter Roxanne from herself. It wasn’t her fault. At
least he couldn’t blame it on her. For his own sanity, he couldn’t
do that. He would just have to make sure nothing like this ever
happened again. But to do that, he’d have to keep her by his side
every second of every day. Even if he had to starve, he intended to
see to it that he protected Roxanne from herself.

Time dragged on for Roxanne, who felt trapped under
Frank’s watchful, reprimanding eye. He no longer had enough faith
in her to let her out of his sight, robbing her of the chance to
prove herself worthy of his trust once again. Still, she waited.
She kept telling herself he would come around, and soon he’d be the
person she’d fallen in love with.