Crazy For You (25 page)

The fact that she had to track Frank down just to be
able to talk to him only reinforced her belief that she was doing
the right thing. As she should have guessed, she found him at the
rehearsal studio with the band, working on the new album.

When your pride goes

You know you’re going to fall

But you never let it get you down

You just keep standing tall

You know that getting through to me is like

Beating your head against a brick wall

But you never give up

And I don’t know why

I should even care

But I always need to look back

I need to see you standing there

That was about as close to an apology as Roxanne was
going to get from Frank. But it didn’t matter anymore. He had
accomplished his goal. Now she intended to carry out hers.

Frank strolled out of the booth and plastered on an
expression of indifference as he stopped at her side, towering over
her instead of sitting. “What are you doing here?” Well at least he
acknowledged her presence.

“I want to talk to you.” She knew the best way to
get anywhere with him was to be direct. “It’s about our honeymoon.”
She wished she could see behind those damned shades.

“Roxanne, I don’t have time for this.”

“When you’re done with the album,” she said, one
step ahead of him. “That’s when I was thinking of going.”

“That’ll probably be late in March, at least.”

“That’s about when I had in mind.”

“Whatever,” he said, lacking enthusiasm. “Just fix
it and I’ll go.” He shrugged and walked away, probably telling
himself he had until March to find an excuse to back out.

But she didn’t care. Let him knock himself out
trying to find a plausible reason to renege. Wait until he found
out it was all for nothing. That’d serve him right.

Roxanne hopped down off the stool. “Wonderful.” She
gave his backside a smile derived in distaste before heading
out.

In the parking lot, she marveled at how easy it was
going to be to carry out her plan. Really, she’d expected Frank to
put up more of a fight. But oh boy, was he going to be surprised.
She would win. She would get away from him. It might be the last
thing that she ever did, but she would succeed in doing that one
thing—escaping.

Next, Roxanne paid for the yacht in advance. She did
everything to indicate that her plans were legitimate. Now the time
had come to pay Jerry a visit. With all those details she’d seen
to—and a little luck—she’d be able to persuade Jerry that she
actually intended to go on this trip. The task shouldn’t be too
hard for her. She had the Oscar statuettes to prove she could act.
If she gave an award-winning performance today, she’d be rewarded
with three hefty prescriptions right before the ship set sail—worth
more than any Academy Award.

Wrapped in an air of elation, she waltzed into
Jerry’s office as if she were on top of the world. And in a way she
was. She’d definitely be the happiest person around if she got what
she came for today.

“Roxanne…” Jerry uttered her name softly, eyeing her
with a measure of suspicion. “You seem to be in an unusually good
mood today.”

“Life is wonderful.”
Well, at least getting out
will be.

“I’m happy to see you’ve had this sudden turn
around. The basis behind it is...?”

He wasn’t going to be nearly as easy to convince as
Frank. But that didn’t bother her. She’d just have to come up with
a new angle.

“Frankie and I have decided that we want our
marriage to work,” she said. “We’re trying really hard to get past
the pain we’ve caused each other.”

“And you believe that he can actually forgive
you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“And that’s going to make life wonderful?”

“Well we have a beautiful son together. I have a
fabulous career, as does my husband.” She rattled off supporting
motives to suggest that she’d at least thought about it. “If we can
regain what we’ve lost—” She shrugged, as if it were just that
simple. “What more in life could a person want.”

That’s just it. There was nothing left to wish for.
Nothing she wanted more than getting out.

“Your theories are all fine and well,” Jerry said.
“But just how are you going to accomplish this great feat?”

“Well for starters, Frankie and I are going on our
honeymoon.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We’re taking a cruise on a private yacht.”

“And just how long is this private cruise going to
last?”

“Thirty days.”

“Roxanne…” Jerry shook his head. “I just don’t see
how I can give you a thirty day supply of potentially lethal
narcotics.”

“Look…” She tried to bite back the frustration
clawing its way out. “It was your idea for me to take this stuff in
the first place. And you’re the one who’s been ranting and raving
about how important it is for me to keep taking it.”

“I’m sorry, but under the circumstances I cannot
give you that much at once.”

“Fine,” she said with a sullen shrug. “I’ll just go
without it. Frank’s more important to me than your drugs
anyway.”

Culpability stiffened Jerry’s face with a
tight-lipped scowl. Good. She was wearing him down and it had come
more easily than she’d expected. It was more important now than
ever to keep her cool. Just a few more minutes and she’d have Jerry
wound tightly around her finger.

“Do you mind if I check with Frank about this?” he
asked, and then waited.

She said, “No, I don’t mind.”

Jerry knew he shouldn’t trust Roxanne. But what if
she was telling the truth? What if they really were planning a
honeymoon? Who was he to stop them? God knows Roxanne wouldn’t last
a week alone with Frank Garrett without her meds.

“But when you do talk to him,” she said. “And you
find out that I am telling the truth…you owe me an apology.” The
way she appeared to be insulted gave credence to her claim that the
trip was real.

Jerry felt like a heel. Yet he couldn’t shake the
bad feeling imploding inside him.

As soon as Roxanne left, Jerry got on the phone to
track down Frank. He was surprised to find that Roxanne was telling
the truth. This was the first time Jerry had misread a patient. And
believing that she’d lied when she hadn’t—well that was unsettling.
Especially with this patient. Jerry had treated her for damn near
seven years. He should know her by now. But far be it from Jerry to
refuse to admit when he was wrong.

Without hesitation, he snatched up the phone and
dialed her number.

She answered the call with a friendly, “Hello.”

“Roxanne…it’s me, Jerry.”

“Hi, Jerry.” She could tell by the anxiety in his
voice that she’d won. “I take it that you’ve talked to Frank.”

“Yes, I have. And I’m sorry.” His apology was swift,
but serious.

“Well you should be,” she scolded him. “After
everything we’ve been through…I was beside myself that you could
have so little faith in me.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and she
wondered what was running through his head. “Roxanne,” he said in a
self-loathing tone, “I really am sorry.”

She didn’t doubt that he meant it. And she hoped he
felt like shit for it too. But she had a part to play. “It’s okay.
I know you’re just trying to look out for me.”

“You can pick up your prescriptions the day before
you set sail.”

Great. Nothing could stop Roxanne now. Finally, she
was going to be free. She’d convinced herself it was the right
thing to do. The crazy thing was, she was actually looking forward
to her grand escape.

***

Chapter 23

J
anuary turned into
February. And while Roxanne grew more and more distant, Frank was
having his own moment of indecision. But rather than change course
in mid-action, he chose to put his feelings into the last song on
the album. No matter what he thought or how he felt about things,
it didn’t change the fact that Roxanne had to be punished and Frank
refused to let his feelings get in the way.

Don’t walk away

Just hold on tight

Hold on to me

I promise it’ll be all right

Let’s give in to the pleasure

Let’s give in tonight

A
s the days passed,
Roxanne’s excitement grew over the event that would soon take
place. Not even Frank’s apathy toward her could dampen her spirits.
Nonetheless, it amazed her that no one bothered to wonder why she
was in such a good mood when things really weren’t so good at home.
Not that it mattered. Nothing could stop her. Not even Frank.
Especially not Frank.

The yacht she’d chartered was scheduled to set sail
at eleven-thirty in the morning on February 25th. She doubted Frank
had plans to show up at the marina before eleven twenty-nine and
fifty-nine seconds—if he showed at all. But she didn’t care. Mainly
because she wasn’t going to be there when and if he did turn up. By
then, she’d be long gone. By then, she’d be free.

Candy and Frankie were going to stay with Rich while
Roxanne and Frank were away. The day before the cruise they moved
into his place temporarily.

It was important that Roxanne had the house to
herself, so that evening she sent Jameson and Rose out for a night
on the town. With the house empty, she prepared to set the next
phase of her plan in motion. It’s not like she’d have to worry
about Frank raining on her parade. There wasn’t a chance in hell of
him coming home.

F
rank was quite content
sitting in a little pub in St. Pete, nursing a beer. He’d had lots
of time to kill during the last couple of days since the band had
wrapped up the album.

He hadn’t found it surprising that Roxanne was on
his mind. She’d been trying so hard to make their marriage work.
Frank hadn’t made that easy on her, and he ridiculed himself for
it. He’d been working hard at subduing his own feelings, keeping
them tucked neatly away. That feat had gotten harder and harder to
do with each passing day.

Frank took a drink of his beer, hoping the feelings
of remorse would pass, and wondering what the chances were that
Roxanne might change her mind and opt out of the trip.

T
he one thing Roxanne had
decided on was a bath. If she was going to leave this world, she
wanted to be clean when she did it.

She sank down into the bath water, strengthened by
the notion that soon, very soon, it would all be over. She wouldn’t
have to spend another day with Frank Garrett. She wouldn’t have to
waste any more time wishing and wanting him to show her love and
affection. She wouldn’t have to spend one more day wondering where
he was or when he was coming home. Best of all, she wouldn’t have
to live with his hatred.

Roxanne hated to leave Little Frankie and Candy
behind. But she knew Rich would take good care of Candy. And as
much as she hated Frank and wanted to get away from him, she knew
he’d take good care of their son. In the end, she needed to escape
more than she wanted to stay.

This was the last bath she’d ever take. There were a
lot of things she’d never do again. She’d never drive her Porsche.
No more talks with Candy. And she’d never hold her baby again. That
thought splintered her heart into a thousand pieces.

No
.
Don’t think about all the things
you’re going to miss
. Forgetting her objective wasn’t smart.
Neither was thinking Frank gave a shit. The fact that he wasn’t
here was proof enough.

F
rank was still perched on
his stool at the pub in St. Pete, drinking his beer. Part of him
hated that he was excited about tomorrow. He didn’t want to be
thrilled about going anywhere with her. But he was. The thought of
being alone with her for thirty days had his mind tripping over the
possibilities.

Maybe she’d suffered enough. Maybe the time had come
to put the past misfortunes to rest, to look ahead and not behind.
Maybe it was time for forgiveness. Frank peeled off his sunglasses
and laid them on the bar. He felt a smile tip the corners of his
mouth as he got up and walked out the door.

A
fter Roxanne got out of
the bathtub she put on her silk nightgown. She dug around in her
purse that was on the dresser, searching for the meds Jerry had
prescribed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and put the pills
on the nightstand. Deciding she needed something to wash them down,
she headed downstairs to get herself a drink.

She was about to grab the OJ out of the fridge when
she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to mix alcohol with her
medication. That was a better idea. If she used vodka or something,
that might help move things along.

But why not do this in style? Nothing could compare
to serving up her salvation on the best silver and china her money
could buy. She collected a silver tray, saucers made of fine china,
and happily tucked the bottle of vodka under one arm and carted
everything upstairs.

Humming merrily, she put the tray on the nightstand
and sat down on the bed. Carefully, she positioned the saucers on
the tray and poured the contents of each pill bottle onto the tiny
plates. She let the empty containers fall to the floor and paused
momentarily to straighten the contents of each saucer.

Now
, she thought, looking at the bottle of
vodka.
Damn
. She’d forgotten a glass. But there was one in
the bathroom. She hopped off the bed and ran to get it. Smiling,
she returned to the bed. This time she had everything she
needed.

The rings on her finger—Frank’s rings—caught her
eye. She stopped and inspected them closely. They were certainly
rare and beautiful. But they were a lie. Just like his love was a
lie. Roxanne took them off and dropped them onto the tray. She
didn’t want to die with
his
rings on her finger.

She filled the glass with vodka and grabbed a
handful of pills from one of the saucers. Casually, she popped a
few of them into her mouth and took a drink, forcing the pills and
the liquor down at the same time. She repeated this process
methodically until all the pills in her hand were gone. “Don’t
worry,” she assured the other two saucers, “I’ll get to you.”