“Don’t fucking tell me to stop!” His drunken wrath was now directed at me. “You short-changed me for a goddamned magazine.”
My heart stopped beating. His words sliced me open. “There are people here, Frank,” I said firmly. “You need to calm down.”
“Yeah, buddy. You need to calm down!” Dante croaked, moving to stand by my side.
“Are you happy, Cassy?” His gaze swept over the stage, then back at me. “Or are you tired of fucking a guy who can’t use both hands?”
The blood drained from my face. “That’s enough, Frank.”
“Is that why you came here? To find a replacement for me? Someone who can fuck you properly?” His slurred voice was like a slap in my face.
A giggle rang out somewhere in the crowd. My entire body felt like it’d been set on fire. I’d never been subjected to this kind of public humiliation before. My words were stuck in my throat along with my breath. Tears swelled in my eyes.
Frank jumped on stage and twirled around in front of the microphone. A few claps came from behind me. Dizzy with hate, he trotted around the small podium as if he was looking for something he’d lost. Maybe his sanity. His frenzy seized all the air in the room.
I watched him through the gathering mist in my eyes. Part of me knew this wasn’t my Frank. This was the alcohol talking, but part of me hated him for bringing us into this stupid squabble with Dante, for making us a spectacle.
It hurt too much.
“Could you please come down?” I asked quietly, nearing the stage.
He ignored me. “You guys want to hear a new song?”
The crowd responded with a cheer.
“Frank.” I held out my hand. “Please come down.”
“Just wait, baby.” He shook his head and pulled out a piece of paper from the side pocket of his jacket. “I wrote some stuff the other day.” His fuzzy eyes settled on my face. “While you were mad at me.”
“Please come down.”
“Johnny! My man! Can you help a brother out?” Frank whipped his hand in an attempt to unfold the paper. “Fucking sucks when you’re disabled, right?” A silly grin passed his lips.
Scattered laughter filled the ballroom.
Not able to bear this anymore, I got up on stage. “Everyone is making fun of you. Let’s go home.”
He gave me a confused look. “I just got here, doll. I’m going to sing the song I wrote.”
“Please.” I clutched his elbow.
He jerked away. His body swayed backward and slipped from my grip. The rattle of cymbals filled the room as Frank wrecked Carter’s drum kit on the way down. I dropped to my knees to help him, but he was too heavy and too drunk.
“What is wrong with you people?” I cried out, glancing at the sea of spectators. “He just had two surgeries! Someone help him!”
Johnny and Dante hopped up. I saw Marshall making his way through the crowd. Cell phones and cameras continued to record. My body shook. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or something else. Emotions of all colors surged through me. From the darkest to the brightest, they fought within me as I watched Johnny and Marshall helping Frank up.
“My song,” he slurred, looking down.
Someone picked up the paper from under the destroyed kit and handed it to him.
“You gotta hear this, baby.” He dragged his gaze to me and a lopsided grin curled his lips.
Dante stepped in. “You’re ruining my party, man. Get your ass down.”
“I wrote the fucking album! You wouldn’t have a party if not for me.” Frank tried to shake off Johnny and Marshall, who held him straight.
“Can we please stop this?” I thrust myself between them. “What is it with you rock stars? What are you, in sixth grade?”
“See?” Dante giggled. “Listen to what your girlfriend says.”
“Why don’t you keep my girlfriend out of it?”
I turned to Frank and rested both palms on his chest. His heartbeat was scary loud. “Stop this. There’s press here. You two are going to be all over the tabloids. It’s not worth it.”
“Yeah, not worth it, Cassy. But you felt the need to be here tonight anyway, even after I asked you not to go.” A sad smile twisted his lips. “Is that how you love me?”
“Please don’t drag me into this.” My voice was low, but I knew that people could still hear us, and if they couldn’t, they’d be reading about this on TMZ’s front page in two hours.
“Why not?”
Johnny wrapped his arm around Frank and pulled him toward the edge of the stage. Marshall assisted.
The crowd swallowed them as they descended. I waited a second. Carter lingered in my peripheral. He held out a hand and helped me get down. My knees felt like they’ve been skinned and glued to my slacks.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m definitely better than your drums.”
“Ah, it’s not a big deal.” He shrugged.
The attention of the entire room was on Johnny ushering Frank to the exit. Cameras clicked, and then I heard a collective gasp. I ripped my way through the wall of security with Carter one step behind me.
In the middle of all the chaos, Frank and Dante were engaged in a pathetic fist fight. Or more like a drunk dance. I didn’t know how else to describe their swinging and shaking and the slew of profanities there were exchanging. It felt a lot like my high school. Only worse.
“Enough you two!” I grabbed Frank’s hand and stared at Dante. “Stop provoking him. He’s going to hurt himself.”
“Stay out of this, Cassy,” Frank growled, swaying backward. The crowd moved along with him to make room.
“I’m not going to stay out of it until you stop this,” I hissed.
Dante laughed. “Since you’ve got one hand. I’ll let you hit me first, Frankie-boy.”
“No one is hitting anyone.”
“Just get out of my way.” Frank gritted his teeth.
“I won’t!”
“Get out of my way, Cassy!”
“I won’t.
