Crazy For You (8 page)

“Yeah.” Candy pulled a roach-clip from her purse and
clamped it onto the joint.

Glenna picked up on Roxanne’s anxiety. “I’m not
saying that’s what Frank would do.” She had to get that notion out
of Roxanne’s head. Otherwise, Frank would hit the roof. “So don’t
go judging him by my husband’s actions.”

Glenna prayed Roxanne had nothing but pure thoughts
of Frank. If not, there would be hell to pay. Frank would see to
that.

A few days later, Frank and Roxanne were lounging by
the motel’s pool, along with most of the band and their current
guests. With Candy and Glenna gone, Rich and Glen had reverted back
to their old ways.

Roxanne turned away. It sickened her, watching Rich
and Glen letting a bunch of groupies jump through hoops to decide
who would be the lucky one—or ones—tonight.

Frank seemed to be enjoying the task of polishing
Roxanne with suntan oil, and she let her thoughts wander off to her
story. With hopes of diverting her thoughts elsewhere, she decided
to question Frank about Ben and Cherie.

“Frankie…”

“Yeah.”

“Remember the hypothetical situation we talked about
a while back?”

“About the rock-n-roll guy?” he asked.

“Yeah. Remember the girl? The one you’d hide it
from?”

“Yeah.” Frank chuckled. “I remember her too.”

“Well, suppose that the more you get to know her,
the more you realize she’s not going to like it when she finds out
that you’ve been hiding this big secret from her.” Roxanne paused,
giving the idea time to ramble around inside Frank’s head. “So what
do you do now?”

“If I tell her…it’s very likely I’m going to get
dumped.” His voice pitched higher, as if he realized the probable
outcome in mid-sentence.

Roxanne nodded.

“And if I really liked her…I probably wouldn’t tell
her until I was backed into a corner,” he said. “If she’s going to
dump me, I might as well enjoy what little time I have left with
her.”

Suddenly, Frank realized the conversation was
pointless. Figuring it had to be a basis for something else, he
asked suspiciously, “What are you getting at? You don’t think I’m
screwing around, do you?” He didn’t like her thinking that. Didn’t
want her thinking that. He hadn’t cheated on her and he had no
plans to do so in the future.

“No!” she replied sharply.

“Then what’s this line of questioning really
about?”

“It’s not about anything,” she said. “It’s not
real.”

“Can we drop it and forget about it then?” For some
reason it made him nervous.

“Okay,” she agreed easily.

Roxanne never found any appeal in being out on the
road. Aside from all the infidelity going on, as soon as she got
comfortable in one motel it was time to move on to the next. Even
though she found little joy in the lifestyle, she did it because
she wanted to be with Frank.

After checking into the latest motel, Frank parked
the van in front of their newest room.

Roxanne opened the passenger door and glanced over
her shoulder before getting out. Seeing Rich make no attempt to
move bothered her. Wherever his thoughts lay, they surely ran deep.
Secretly, she hoped he’d wrapped them in guilt. That’d serve him
right. The notion of Rich wallowing in his own remorse lightened
her mood.

“Hey, Rich…”

Nothing.

“Hey, Richie…?”

Her teasing, playful tone broke into his thoughts.
He glanced up and thought about saying something, but changed his
mind.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, concern seeping
into her voice.

“Nothing that a little time can’t handle.”
And a
whole lot of women
. Wouldn’t you know it? The first time he
really wanted a girl, she didn’t want him. He didn’t know which was
worse—the thought of never seeing her again, or, never having her
for himself.

“I hate to see you like this,” she said with a
measure of pity. “I wish there was something I could say to make
you feel better.”

“Roxie, I appreciate that.” He tried to smile. “But
I think your sister is the only one who can do that.”

“Don’t be too hard on her, okay?” she said, trying
to find an excuse for Candy’s actions. “She really does care about
you. She’s just afraid.”

“Really? You think so?” Rich didn’t want to hear the
voice inside his head warning him that Roxanne might be giving him
false hope.

But he knew Roxanne wasn’t vicious or malicious. If
she said Candy really cared about him, then she believed it. And
that gave Rich hope. False hope, maybe. But nonetheless, hope.

Roxanne continued to work on The Secret every chance
she got. She also continued to employ Frank’s help, even if he
didn’t necessarily know about it.

In the latest motel room, the sun filtered through
the curtains and cast a thin ray of light on Roxanne. She’d been
awake for hours, while Frank had been and continued to rest
peacefully.

How can you sleep
? She studied him.
I
can’t sleep
.

“Frankie…” She shook him lightly. “Frankie, wake
up.”

“What! What?” He moaned and covered his face with
his hands, as if it made a difference.

“I need to talk to you.” Her voice was fragile.

“What?” His tone was a bit more attentive now, but
still, he made no move to uncover his face.

“We need to talk about Ben.”

“Who?” His voice snarled out as he jumped up. Frank
didn’t have a clue who Ben was, but he better not be some guy
chasing after Roxanne.

“You know…” She huffed out a sigh as if agitated
that he’d forgotten. “The rock star.”

“Not them again.” Frank fell back on the bed and
covered his eyes with the base of his hands. “I can’t believe you
woke me up to ask me about some people that aren’t even real.”

“It’s important. Indulge me just this once, okay?”
Her persuasive tone coaxed him into humoring her.

“If I answer your question,” he said in a bargaining
way, “can we go back to sleep?”

“You have to tell this girl who you are—before she
finds out from someone else.”

“So I just told her.”

“She never wants to see you again.”

Frank sat up and cast a studious look over her, his
eyes cold and hard. “So I just committed suicide. Now, can we go
back to sleep?”

“Frankie, that’s no good.”

Frank dragged his fingers through his hair. “What’s
going on?” He peered at her with a glint of annoyance in his eye.
“And don’t tell me anything about hypothetical bullshit.”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” Clearly, he didn’t buy her claim that it
was merely for curiosity’s sake. “Start talking, Roxanne.”

“No,” she whispered. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“I can guarantee you—” His voice was full of
resolve. “—I won’t be laughing.” Nothing she could say would make
him laugh right now. “What’s going on?”

“Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“Scouts honor.” He waved a couple of fingers in the
air, hoping that if he humored her it might somehow lead to sleep.
“I promise. I will not laugh at you.”

“The reason I’ve been asking you all of these
questions is...” her voice resisted and she cleared her throat.

Maybe
—
just maybe
—
we’re going to get
somewhere now
.

“Well…” She still hadn’t found adequate strength to
stimulate her words. She huffed, preparing to blurt out her secret.
“I’ve been writing this story. A novel.”

Curiosity and disbelief skewed his face. “You’re
writing a book?”

“Yeah.”

He scanned her with a discerning look. “Let me see
it.”

“What?” she said in a suffocated whisper. “You want
to see it?”

“Why haven’t you told me about this before?”
Accusation fueled his tone now.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me.”

“I would never laugh at you. No matter how bad it
is.” He waved dismissively. “Now, let me see it.”

“Okay.” Giving in, she slowly made her way to the
nightstand and retrieved the loose papers from their hiding place.
“This is only a rough draft,” she said, like she was delivering her
heart on a platter.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He winked at her, forcing
the papers from her hands.

She sat down on the bed and waited nervously while
he read her work. The possibility that he could think she had no
talent, horrified her.

After reading a few pages, he looked back at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me you could write?”

Astonishment warmed her face.

“I’m serious. This—” He acknowledged the papers. “Is
what you were born to do.”

“Don’t joke with me about this, Frankie.”

By now, she should know him well enough to know he
never paid a false compliment just to win a few points. He simply
didn’t care that much about flattering people. On the rare occasion
that he did pay a compliment—well, one could trust it was
authentic.

Frank and Roxanne went out to buy a typewriter and
the necessary materials she’d need to start typing her book. He
offered assistance at every opportunity, encouraging her to
complete her story.

She found his support motivating. And now, they
often discussed Ben and Cherie openly and he tried his damnedest to
help her with any scenarios she threw at him.

Frank wasn’t surprised when he found out Roxanne’s
birthday fell on Valentine’s Day. It suited her.

On this particular birthday, her twentieth, Frank’s
job was to get her down to Rich’s room, but he was finding the task
harder than he’d anticipated.

“I don’t want to go down there,” she said. “I just
want to spend what little time we have left…alone…before you have
to go to the club.”

“Just five minutes. Rich has a present for you.” He
enticed her with the implication that he was giving away some
carefully guarded secret.

After that, she willingly followed him.

Frank tapped on the door and it opened instantly
into darkness.

“Hi, Roxie,” Rich’s voice greeted her. He reached
out from the shadows and pulled her inside.

“Does the word electricity mean anything to you?”
she spoke softly, straining to see anything inside the room.

Tiny lights flickered on the far side of the room,
and it took her a second to realize that candles were feeding the
flames. Finally, Roxanne’s eyes adjusted enough to see Candy
holding a birthday cake.

“Happy Birthday, Roxie!” everyone chimed in
unison.

Frank switched on the lights and instantly the party
came into clear view.

“Happy birthday.” Rich smiled and gave Roxanne a
friendly hug followed by a kiss on the cheek. “I just wanted to
tell you—” He leaned back enough to gaze into her eyes. “I think
you’re probably the best person I know.” He laughed softly. “Aside
from me, of course.”

“Hey...” Frank pushed himself between them. “You
trying to steal my woman?” His words bubbled over with
laughter.

“If I thought you’d let me,” Rich joked.

Glen lay sprawled out on the floor near the
bathroom. Obviously wasted. Again. He was singing some muffled song
that no one could quite make out.

Frank shook his head at his friend, saddened by the
sight but knowing Glen had his reasons. Things weren’t as they
seemed, and he knew Glen was trying to forget that. Somewhere along
the way Glen had gone too far though, and lost touch with
reality.

Frank wasn’t self-righteous by any means. If someone
wanted to burn a joint, or do a line…well, he’d be first in line.
But he also knew where to draw the line.

He saw nothing wrong with catching a buzz, but he
didn’t see any sense in losing touch with reality, either. Frank
had to remain in control at all times. That didn’t leave much room
for drugs in his world.

He grabbed Roxanne’s hand and tugged her toward the
door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Quietly, they wandered outside, and it didn’t appear
that anyone noticed their departure. If they did, they didn’t try
to stop them.

“I got you a present,” he said, as they strolled
toward their room.

“You did?”

“Yes. Come and see.” He quickened their pace.

He’d hidden it under the bed, and Roxanne wondered
how long it’d been there.

“I looked and looked...” He offered the gift-wrapped
package to her. “And someone told me this was the perfect gift for
a writer.” Frank smiled, proud of himself.

Eagerly, Roxanne tore off the wrapping. Upon seeing
the leather bound thesaurus nestled cozily amid the tissue paper,
tears pooled around her eyes.

“Read what I wrote inside,” he encouraged her.

Roxanne opened the book and began reading his
inscription…

Dear Roxanne,

I just want you to know how much you mean to me. And
if writing is your heart’s desire, then consider me standing beside
you all the way. I love you with all my heart!

Forever, Frank

Roxanne struggled with the urge to cry. She swiped
at the one teardrop that did manage to escape. “You’ll never know
how much this means to me.” Clutching the book to her chest, her
tears fell freely.

“Come here.” Frank pulled her into his arms. “Please
don’t cry.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She wanted it to last forever, even though she was
well aware that time usually proves nothing does.

***

Chapter 8

T
he weeks turned into
months and April brought an end to Garrett-Hollander’s bar tour.
Returning home forced Roxanne to come to grips with the fact that
she’d nearly run out of money.

She’d have to get a job soon, which meant that when
Frank ventured back out on the road again, she’d have to stay
behind, leaving Frank to his own devices. The one thing she didn’t
want to have to worry about was what Frank might be doing out on
the road without her.

But Roxanne refused to worry about that right now.
Instead, she tucked that little problem safely away, deep down
inside her psyche. For now.