Crazy For You (15 page)

Frank stared absently across the bar and suddenly it
hit him. There she sat, directly across from him. And it wasn’t
some look-alike. Oh no, this was the real thing. He’d loved her and
he’d hated her all too much over the last five years not to know
her when he saw her.

Their eyes locked. Frank was wrapped in relief but
it didn’t last long, pushed aside by anger and rage that suddenly
filtered out and stretched across the bar.

Roxanne’s expression stilled, then grew alarmed. She
tucked her purse under her arm and bolted for the door.

No
. Frank chased after her. No way would he
let her get away again. Not this time.

Anxiously, he pushed his way through the crowd. They
were grabbing at him. Calling out to him. Trying to stop him.
Trying to talk to him. But he didn’t want to talk to any of them.
He only wanted to get to Roxanne. More than anything else he wanted
to catch her and make her explain why she’d betrayed him.

Frank rushed outside, finding only a crowded parking
lot and a few people hanging around. He didn’t see Roxanne
anywhere. Searching desperately, he tried to see her out there
somewhere. Anywhere. He didn’t pay much attention to the red
Porsche as it sped away. Instead, he hurried through the parking
lot, quickly scanning each vehicle as he passed it by. His efforts
were fruitless.

Nearing exhaustion, he slowed to a trot and then a
walk. Finally, he accepted it; she was no longer there. Not
anymore.

Desolation setting in, he headed back toward the
bar. Cruising along the side of the building, he cursed himself
silently. He’d come so close. Yet, she’d slipped through his
fingers, once again. But now, Frank wanted to find her more than
ever.

Hatefully, he kicked the side of the building, but
failed to release his anger.

***

Chapter 14

F
rank walked back into the
nightclub, seemingly right back where he started. The fact that
Roxanne had gotten away from him before was bad enough, but she’d
done it again.

He’d find her one day. Oh, yes he would. And when he
did, she’d pay for every rotten thing she’d ever done to him. His
day would come, because it was his will. He just wanted that day to
be now.

Frank pushed his way back up to the bar and ordered
another beer. He turned, leaned against the railing and scanned the
crowd even though he knew it was useless. He wasn’t going to find
her, not in here anyway. She was long gone.

He picked up his beer and casually took a swallow.
He felt pretty helpless since he had no idea where to look for her,
and he sought desperately to think of a solution. In all his dismay
he realized something—something pretty great, in fact. He happened
to be staring right at his pal Rich. And right behind Rich sat
Candy.

Frank’s thoughts filled rapidly with a newfound hope
because where there was Candy, one could always be led to Roxanne.
Flashing an unbeatable smile to no one in particular, he headed
toward them.

C
andy saw Frank approaching
and pulled Rich in front of her. “Here. If I’m behind you, maybe he
won’t notice me.”

“Why are you afraid of Frank?” Rich asked. “He’s not
gonna hurt you.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” she said, trying her
best to hide behind him.

Frank stopped in front of Rich.

“What’s up?” Rich said to him. “When did you get
in?”

Frank ignored his question. Instead, he looked over
Rich’s shoulder, directly at Candy. “Hello, Candy.” He paused, for
the sole reason of irritating her nerves. “Or should I say…Ms.
Cantrell?” he said with such sarcasm that it implied he knew
everything about the last five years.

“Hi, Frank.” Candy flashed a friendly smile to go
along with her composed response.

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“The Queen of England.” His anger pushed the words
out. “Roxanne...who do you think?”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Frank said. “You’re going to tell me
where she is.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You will.”

“I won’t.”

Frank looked around the club, as if trying to keep
his cool. Slowly, he turned back to Candy. “Let’s just say you have
one of two choices. You can tell me where she is. Or you can show
me.”

This didn’t feel like much of a choice to Candy, but
it’s all she was going to get from Frank.

“Hold it.” Rich stepped in. “I’m sure we can come up
with a compromise that’s agreeable to everyone.”

“Go ahead.” Frank at least indicated his willingness
to listen.

“Let’s suppose that when Candy leaves…unbeknownst to
her you could follow her home.” He offered a solution to the
problem. “That way, Roxanne can’t be mad at Candy for taking you
there.”

Reluctantly they both agreed to Rich’s plan. In
Candy’s eyes, she was still taking Frank to Roxanne. But what could
she do?

“Candy,” he said, “you better not try to lose
me.”

Some fifteen minutes later, Frank followed Candy
into a gated community near the intersection of Dale Mabry and
Busch Boulevard. Her car came to a screeching halt at the front
door of a two-story corner lot. She charged toward the house as
Frank and Rich’s cars lined the driveway behind her Targa. She
veered away from the house and stormed toward Frank’s car,
motioning him to lower the window.

“You stay here.” She tossed him a ferocious glare.
“I’ll go find her, and she’ll decide whether or not you can come
inside.”

“We’re either going to have it out inside the house,
or out here in the front yard.” Frank propped his hand up in the
window and gave a dismissive wave. “Makes no difference to me.”

While Rich and Candy went inside, Frank looked at
the house, studying it. He could feel Roxanne’s presence all
around. It suited her. Clearly, this house was not a home for every
budget, but it didn’t indicate a showy celebrity status either.
Practical elegance. Exactly the kind of house he would’ve imagined
her to live in.

Roxanne and Candy
. He reminded himself of the
agonizing fact that she lived there without him. “Damn you,
Roxanne.”

This should have been their home. His and Roxanne’s.
If she would’ve had a little faith and trust in him, he would have
accepted the kid—even if it wasn’t his.

Rich came back outside and leaned down to look at
Frank through the open window. “She’s not here, man.”

“What kind of car does she drive?”

“Candy says a red Carrera.”

Frank nodded and revved the engine, recalling the
red Porsche speeding out of the parking lot back at the club. He
looked at his friend and smiled. “I know where she is.”

“Listen, buddy…” Rich straightened and tapped the
car door a couple of times. “You be cool, okay?”

Frank laughed softly. “Cool is my middle name.” He
hit the gas and sped around the other cars, leaving Rich standing
in the driveway.

If Frank knew Roxanne like he thought he did, there
was only one place she could be. Sunset Beach. Without further ado
he headed straight for the freeway. On the drive across the bay
Frank thought of little else but finding Roxanne.

By the time he reached Sunset Beach, his resolve was
still intact and stronger than ever. He cruised along the shore
until he spotted a red Porsche. Moving closer, he was able to read
the license plates:
ROXIE
. Luckily for him, that was a dead
give-away.

Frank parked his Ferrari beside the Porsche and got
out as quietly as possible, careful not to shut the door too
loudly. He knew she was there. Somewhere very near. He didn’t want
to give her any forewarning that she had company—namely him.
Walking from the pavement to the sand, he could see her silhouette
sitting out there in the darkness. Quietly, he crept up behind
her.

Finally he had her. No way could she get away again.
Not this time. He stopped a couple of feet behind her and stood
there with his hands in his pockets, fighting desperately to
collect his emotions.

Little did he know, but she knew he was there. She
could feel his presence even though she couldn’t see him. If she
wanted to, turning around would do the trick. That’s just it, she
didn’t want to look at him. If she did, there was always the chance
that all those old feelings might come flooding out again. Being so
close to him now, she knew that was a very real possibility.

A chill shivered through her as she searched the
ocean’s calm, seeking inner peace. “Why did you come here?” she
asked with difficulty.

“I think I’m the one who should be asking
questions.” His stoic voice gave nothing away about what he was
feeling.

She made no effort to turn and look at him as he
continued to stand behind her. And she didn’t say anything more.
She only stared out at the ocean.

“Why did you leave like that?” he asked calmly.

Roxanne didn’t move. She didn’t make a sound.

“Did he mean so much to you that you could just up
and leave me like that?” Bitterness invaded his tone. “Without a
word.”

Confusion washed over Roxanne. Surely he wasn’t
talking about Frankie. Curiosity pushed her to glance over her
shoulder, but she didn’t attempt eye contact.

All at once, Frank’s temper enraged him. He snatched
her up by the arms, pulling her to her feet.

Roxanne closed her eyes as he shook her.

“Damn it! Look at me when I talk to you!” he ordered
viciously. “Did you leave me for that English faggot?”

“What?” Slowly, she opened her eyes, expecting to
see those piercing baby blues. Instead, she only saw the
sunglasses. “Take those off,” she said, “if you want me to tell you
anything.”

Frank ignored her. “I have just one question for
you…and you better tell me the truth.” His burning hatred seeped
out in his tone, his glare, his grip. “God help you. It better be
the right answer.” If she answered wrong, he was going to kill her
right then and there.

Roxanne closed her eyes again, fearing what was
coming next.

“Is he my son?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Frank pushed her away.

And Roxanne started to cry.

“Why?” His pain seeped out in his voice.

She didn’t know what to say. What could she say
after all this time? Nothing. Nothing that would make it okay.

“Why did you let someone else publicly claim to be
his father?” He couldn’t understand what she was thinking when she
decided to let that happen. “Why did you hide our son from me?” How
he hated her for that.

Hiding Frankie’s paternity hadn’t been something
she’d gone to great lengths to plot against him. But after all this
time, Roxanne knew that any attempt at an explanation was
fruitless. “It just happened,” she said helplessly.

“It just happened?” His skeptical laughter shot
through her like hot shards of jagged glass. “Come on,
Roxanne…you’re a writer. You can come up with a better one than
that.”

“You know…” Roxanne was tired of taking all the
blame. “When I left, we weren’t exactly the picture of perfection.
You hated me. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But it wasn’t hate. I
didn’t hate you then.” Oh, but how he hated her now.

“Jesus, Frank...I was your prisoner.”

“I was just trying to protect you.”

“From who?”

“From you, Roxie,” he said. “From you.”

“If I’d told you I was pregnant,” she said. “What
would you have done?”

“I would have taken care of you and our baby.”

“Hell, Frank…” Her laughter had a bite to it. “You
couldn’t even take care of yourself,” she said. “Much less me and a
baby.”

There it was. The cold hard truth. She’d never had
faith in him.

“Roxanne,” he said in a quiet, calm tone, “I would
have done what I had to do.”

“You would have had to quit the band…is what you
would have had to do.”

“So what!”

“So what?” Her words tore at him. “You would’ve
ended up hating us for that.”

“That was not your decision to make.” He cleared his
throat and wrangled with his anger. She wasn’t going to hang
irresponsibility on him, not when he hadn’t been given the chance
to prove he would’ve done otherwise. “It was my decision. Not
yours.”

He
was Frankie’s father. By depriving him of
that knowledge, she’d taken away his God-given right. She had no
right and he hated her for that. Frank intended to see to it that
she paid. It might be the last thing he ever did, but—somehow,
someway, someday—Roxanne Simon was going pay.

“I know you hate me for what I’ve done to you,”
Roxanne said. “And you have every right.”

Damn right I do
.

She was starting with the waterworks again, but that
didn’t carry much weight with Frank.

“And I know there’s no way I could ever make it up
to you, but I truly am sorry,” she offered with apologetic
honesty.

Frank didn’t care about all that. “You’re sorry?” He
laughed. “Well I’m sorry, too. It’s not enough, Roxanne.”

“I know.” She waded through her tears. He hoped she
choked on them. “I know you hate me.”

“Well you’re right about that. I do hate you.”

Roxanne’s tears magnified and everything went
blurry. Racked with sobs, she turned away.

“Come here.” He embraced her with consoling arms.
“Don’t cry.”

After five long years Frank found a ray of hope. He
thought maybe, just maybe, things were finally going to go his
way.

“Please...” Roxanne fell into his trap, succumbing
to the faux comfort he offered. “He’s all I’ve got in this
world…please don’t turn him against me.”

Her futile pleas did little to sway him. Even as he
held her close and comforted her, his actions meant nothing. They
were just a ploy, a simple tactic to gain her confidence, allowing
him the chance to get back into her good graces. But only one thing
interested Frank right now—making sure that Roxanne Simon rued the
day she ever met him.