Three Cheers for Tyranny [part 2]
Three Cheers for Tyranny
[ index] - [ prologue] - [ part 1] - [part 2] - [ part 3] - [ part 4] - [ part 5a] - [ part 5b] - [ part 6]
[ art by laziilemon] - [ mix by quarterturn]
“Gerard, we have to get out of this fucking house,” Frank groaned. He was lying on his back on the floor behind Gerard’s desk. The same desk in the same office Gerard’s grandfather and great-grandfather had occupied, once upon a time.
Gerard made a noncommittal noise and didn’t turn his head. He obviously wasn’t listening.
Frank pushed himself up to his knees and looked out the window, his elbows resting on the windowsill. “Geraaaaard.” His breath made the window fog up, but it dissipated quickly. “Nobody should be inside for this long. We need to go out.”
“Maybe later.”
Frank hopped up and put his chin on Gerard’s shoulder. “We’re going out for dinner, okay? I’ll call Carlucci’s and make a reservation for seven.”
“I need to finish th-”
“We’ve been working for hours,” Frank whined. “We need a break.”
“I’ve been working. You’ve been complaining. Alright, fine, but seven-thirty, okay?”
“Ugh, fine.” Frank wasn’t really upset, though. He counted it as a win that Gerard even agreed to go out for dinner. He spun away from Gerard and went out into the hall to call the restaurant.
Out in the lounge, he ran into Vinnie, Mark, and Tony, sitting around the coffee table playing cards. Mark looked up when Frank came in, grinning at him. He must be winning, then.
“Where’s Mikey?” Mark asked.
“Um.” Frank dialed the number for Carlucci’s on his cell phone without even looking. It was his favorite restaurant; they had an amazing vegetarian lasagna. “I dunno? I was with Gerard.”
“He owes me two hundred bucks. He bet me I couldn’t win against Vinnie.”
“You haven’t won yet,” Vinnie grumbled, holding his cards up to his face.
Frank laughed. “He’s not actually gonna pay you, y’know.”
“Yeah,” added Tony, “that’s how he makes so much dough. He makes bets all over the place but never pays up when he loses.”
“Everybody pays him, though,” Frank pointed out. “Hey, me and Gerard are going to Carlucci’s tonight. You guys want us to bring you anything back?”
“Take Chris with you,” Vinnie began.
“Nah, we’ll be fine,” Frank said quickly. “It’s just Carlucci’s, and I’ll be with him. He needs to get out. Like, outside. I can’t even remember the last time he went outside.”
“Yesterday,” Tony said.
Frank rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Tony.”
Mikey appeared before Frank could continue. He brushed past Frank, skirted around the table, and went out the front door without a word. Tony rose smoothly to his feet and followed him. He paused at the door to wave at Frank, who rolled his eyes knowingly.
Mikey had a habit of just disappearing like that; he’d been doing it ever since he was a teenager. When Gerard and Tony had come back from New York, Tony had started sticking to Mikey like glue to keep him safe and out of trouble. Frank didn’t know whether Gerard had asked him to or if it was just something Tony did, but he knew Gerard felt better when Mikey wasn’t going out alone.
“I was losing anyway,” Tony said, and left.
***
Even though it was just the two of them, the glad-handing in the Carlucci’s lobby seemed to take ages. Frank greeted the hostess and the two waiters who were standing there with casual hugs and kisses on the cheek. The maître d’ smiled at Gerard and shook his hand warmly, then ran off to find the owner, Anthony Carlucci, who wanted to stay and chat for a while until Frank leaned in toward Gerard and made a quiet, impatient noise in his ear. They were shown to their table the very next minute.
They always sat at a table in the back corner, even though it was sort of dark. They got excellent service, but that was because of who they were, not where they were sitting. It was kind of awkward when it was just the two of them, though, because neither of them knew where to sit.
Frank sat against the wall whenever possible, so nobody could sneak up on him, but Gerard liked sitting against the wall because he liked to watch people. While it might be better for both of them to have Frank where he could see who was approaching, it also left Gerard slightly more in the open, and with his back turned.
It wasn’t the first time they’d been out alone, though, not in all their years of knowing each other and over two years working together, and Frank nudged Gerard into the seat in the corner and then scooted in next to him.
It was almost romantic, with the candle and the fine china and bottle of wine. Frank took it easy on the wine, though, because it was his job to be paranoid and he needed to pay attention. And drive them home.
“Sorry for being such a hermit,” Gerard said after a while. Frank shrugged, nudging Gerard’s shoulder. “No, it’s true, though,” Gerard continued. “I’ve been keeping you cooped up in the house and I know you hate it.”
“It’s alright,” Frank replied. “We’re out now, right?”
“I’m just really busy right now, Frankie.”
“It’s okay, Gee, really.” Frank was one of a handful of people who could still get away with using that nickname, and that fact gave him a little thrill. It felt like a secret whenever he used it.
“So I was thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe you should take over for Tony and start hanging with Mikey. He’s more your scene, really. He goes out to clubs all the time, and I know he annoys the shit out of Tony…”
“Gerard-” Frank sat up straight and touched Gerard’s arm tentatively, but Gerard wasn’t listening.
“And you and Mikey’ve always gotten along really well. I mean, you kind of shared a room with him for years. He actually likes you. I think he just tolerates Tony, which is why he’s being such a brat right now. But he talks to you, right? I think it might be-”
“Gerard, shut up,” Frank interrupted loudly.
Gerard shut up. They both glanced around, but nobody was sitting close enough to them to hear. People didn’t just tell Gerard Way to shut up. Not even someone in Frank’s position. Maybe especially not someone in Frank’s position. To outsiders, he was a glorified bodyguard.
“Do you want me with Mikey?” Frank asked quietly.
“I just think that you might be more comfortable with him for a while, or maybe out on your own…” Gerard murmured back, looking down at their dishes. Then he finally noticed Frank’s fingertips on his arm, and he frowned, but Frank didn’t remove them. Gerard lifted his other hand and touched one of Frank’s black-painted fingernails, a look of intense concentration on his face.
“Gerard, I’ve been at your side since you came back from New York,” Frank whispered. “I’m not going to choose to leave you, not even for Mikey. Unless you’re trying to get rid of me, or something.”
“No, it’s not-”
“I mean, I know I’ve been a pest lately-”
“Frankie.”
“I’ll just back off or something. I won’t be so annoying, I promise.”
“Frank,” Gerard said softly, “you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I just thought, y’know… You might want a… a change of scene, or something. Y’know, so you’re not just sitting around the office, bored.”
Frank’s smile was so wide that it felt like it was going to break his face in half. He shoveled a healthy forkful of pasta into his mouth to cover it up. With his mouth full and a noodle clinging to his chin, he mumbled, “You’re stuck with me, then.”
It was exactly the kind of thing Frank would have done in high school, and it still made Gerard laugh. Frank ducked his head, blushing, and swallowed his food. Gerard put his hand on top of Frank’s, which Frank just now realized was still resting on Gerard’s forearm, and squeezed.
“Yeah, guess so,” Gerard said happily.
***
The next day, Frank was maybe regretting not going out with Mikey. Just a little bit. He was lying on his back again, but this time on one of the sofas Gerard kept in the office. It was lumpy and short enough that Frank could touch the opposite armrest with his feet while he was leaning against the other. It was really more like a loveseat, by today’s standards, but it was old. Everything in the house was old.
Frank was reading a comic book while Gerard read over papers and typed things and signed things, or whatever it was he was doing at the desk. They weren’t talking, but Gerard had music playing from his computer to fill the silence.
Gerard hit him in the face with a paper airplane.
Frank squeaked in surprise, then coughed to make it sound like he wasn’t a complete pussy. Not that Gerard would care, really, and not that he hadn’t been privy to the most embarrassing moments of Frank’s life, but still. He had a reputation to uphold.
Frank twisted around to look at Gerard, but he was doing something on his computer, facing the other direction. He wasn’t even smiling. Frank picked up the paper airplane. On one wing, it said “OPEN ME,” in Gerard’s loopy handwriting.
He pulled open the folded paper. On the inside, there was a drawing of Frank lying on the sofa, asleep, with a thought-bubble that contained Frank with blood on his face and hands, holding a gun, and several black lumps surrounding him, which Frank assumed were bodies. There were artful blood-spatters all over the thought-bubble, and even a few large drops dripping down from the little cloud. Gerard had even covered Frank’s arms in swirls of color for his tattoos.
Underneath the drawing, Gerard had written: sorry i’m so boring. xoxo g
Frank rolled off the couch, landing stealthily on his hand and knees, and crawled around Gerard’s desk. He popped up right behind the computer, and Gerard made a quiet noise of surprise. It was nowhere near as embarrassing as Frank’s squeak, though. Frank, still on his knees, rested his chin on Gerard’s desk and smiled.
“You’re not boring, Gee.”
Gerard smiled back. “You don’t have to stay in here, if you don’t want. I’m sure Vinnie and Worm are playing poker or something out in the living room.”
“How ‘bout if I just get us some lunch?” Frank asked. “Sandwich alright? We might have some pasta left over from last night.”
Gerard shrugged. “Whatever. Make what you want, and give me some.”
“Sure thing.” Frank stood up and tapped the back of Gerard’s hand. His colored markers were still scattered all over the desk. “Back in a few!”
***
Johnny was in the kitchen, bits and pieces of various guns laid out on the counter in front of him. Frank didn’t know if he was cleaning them or just admiring them; Johnny was kind of crazy like that. Frank didn’t touch anything. He didn’t want a bullet between the eyes. Johnny was kind of crazy like that, too, and it didn’t even matter that Johnny had known him since he was a kid; Frank still believed he would snap one day and kill them all.
“How’s the boss-man?” Johnny asked, not looking up from the revolver he was fondling.
“Busy,” Frank replied with a sigh. He opened the refrigerator. “Hey, do we still have any of that sausage shit?”
“Yeah, in the meat drawer.”
There was an unopened grocery store package of steak in there, and Frank almost couldn’t reach in. He shuddered. He didn’t know what made him so squeamish-it sure as hell wasn’t the blood. Frank felt around for the leftover sausage slices, then grabbed a few different kinds of cheese and a bowl of salad, left over from a family dinner earlier in the week.
He made Gerard’s sandwich first, loading it with meat and cheese and condiments, and then started on his own veggie version of the same thing. Johnny looked up and scoffed at him.
“I’m so much healthier than you,” Frank muttered under his breath. “Don’t even start with me, fucker.”
“You’re such a chick, Frankie.”
“I’ll knock your teeth in and all you’ll be eating is tapioca,” Frank shot back.
Johnny shook his head, giving him a ‘whatever, man’ wave, and turned his attention back to his guns. His eyes fucking gleamed. Crazy-ass creep.
Frank grabbed two Diet Cokes out of the fridge and carried everything back to the office balanced on his arms. He could’ve been a waiter, he thought smugly, if only he hadn’t been so busy being a delinquent in his teens.
When he opened the door (nearly dropping both plates in the process, but luckily nobody was in the hallway to see that), Gerard was on the phone, a sour expression on his face. He wasn’t speaking. Frank walked in as quietly as he could and put everything down on the table beside the sofa, then lowered himself into the chair across from Gerard.
“Y’know what? Just shut the fuck up, okay? No, seriously, shut up. I’ll let you know when to speak again,” Gerard said loudly, his voice full of anger. Real anger, Frank realized, not the act he pulled to get people to listen to him. “You think you can threaten me? Well, you’re wrong. It doesn’t matter who the fuck you are, I am still the most powerful man in New Jersey, and that’s not going to fucking change.
“If you want to start a fucking war over this, you’re fucking welcome to. You’re not going to win, I can fucking guarantee you that.” Gerard lowered his voice to a silky-smooth hiss, and even Frank had to admit that it was scary as fuck. “You can’t threaten my Family and expect to get away with it. I will fuck you up, and I will fuck up everyone you fucking know in the process. Do you understand me?”
Frank smirked. No way in hell was the guy on the phone misunderstanding that.
Gerard didn’t even wait for a reply. He slammed the phone down on its cradle and sat there glaring at it for a few long seconds before Frank cleared his throat and asked, “Do I need to kill anyone?”
Gerard laughed. He really laughed, a full laugh that Frank hadn’t heard in forever. “Only you, Frankie. Only you.”
“What?” Frank asked, smiling.
“Only you would twist this absolute fuck-up into something that you actually want.”
“Hey, are you saying I’m a bloodthirsty psychopath?” Frank asked with feigned offence.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Fucking psycho.”
Frank leapt out of the chair and snatched the plates and drinks off the table, setting them down gracefully on top of the mess of papers on Gerard’s desk. “A fucking psycho who brought sandwiches!”
“Ahh, I love you,” Gerard sighed gratefully. “And you even put meat and cheese on it! I really do love you.”
Frank blushed and ducked his head. “Anything for you, baby,” he teased. Gerard nudged his arm. He was smiling.
***
Frank glanced at the caller-ID and snatched up the phone before anyone else could catch it. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “Gerard can’t talk right now, he’s-”
“I wanted to talk to you,” Franco interrupted smoothly. He scoffed teasingly. “I can’t even call up my own son anymore.”
“Oh. Well. Hi, then.”
“How are things at the house?”
Frank looked around; the kitchen was empty and there were no noises from the front rooms, and he knew Gerard was closed up in his office, alone. “Fine,” he answered. “Pretty quiet. Gerard’s working, and I think everyone else is out.”
“And how’s Gerard doing?”
“He’s good. I took him out to dinner the other night, ‘cause we hadn’t seen the outside world in about a week, so…” Frank replied casually.
“What is he working on that has him so busy?” Franco asked. His tone was politely interested, but a warning flag waved in Frank’s mind.
“Um, y’know, just…” Frank said vaguely, “stuff.”
“Stuff? Frank, tell me what’s going on. I just want to make sure everything’s running smoothly.”
“It is.”
“You don’t know that. If he’s working ‘round the clock, something must be wrong-”
“Everything’s fine, Dad,” Frank insisted.
“I just think it might help to have someone else in the loop,” Franco replied gently. “Someone who knows-”
“Gerard knows what he’s doing,” Frank said through gritted teeth.
“Maybe Johnny DeLuca would be willing to-”
“He’s willing to do anything he can,” Frank interrupted, “but Gerard wants to do this alone. So back off, okay? He can handle it.”
“Frankie,” Franco said condescendingly, “it’s just that it’s so soon after Elena’s death, and Gerard was never fully prepared for this position-”
“Dad.”
“Johnny was a very powerful man when Michael was in charge, and Gerard could benefit from having-”
“Dad.”
“He knows how to run this Family, Frank.”
“You weren’t listening. Gerard wants to do this alone. And he will. That’s the end of it,” Frank said firmly. “Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
***
After his phone call, Frank set the handset back on the base to charge and wandered aimlessly around the house for a few minutes. It was a little bit surprising how empty it was; usually there was somebody else besides Frank and Gerard hanging out or waiting for a job to do. Today, though, the house was deserted. Frank sat down in the front lounge, slightly paranoid at being the only person with a gun inside the house.
“Hey, Gerard?” Frank called, boredom seeping into his mind.
There was no answer, so Frank made his way down the hall to the office. When he opened the door, he caught the end of a conversation and saw Johnny with his shoulders stiff and fists clenched behind his back.
“I appreciate your input,” Gerard was saying, “but I really feel I need to take this myself.”
“Oh, sorry-” Frank muttered, realizing they were having some kind of private conversation.
“It’s fine, Frank, come in,” Gerard cut in quickly.
“I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed,” Johnny said gently, and Frank was reminded of his dad saying almost the same thing on the phone. Johnny shot Frank a sharp look and continued, “I know you have a lot to deal with, and you’re not as experienced as-”
“I’m perfectly capable of-” Gerard began firmly.
“I’m concerned, Gerard.” Johnny held out an open hand toward Gerard and Frank raised an eyebrow. “I’m worried you’re stretching yourself too thin, trying to do too much on your own so soon after-”
“Enough,” Gerard snapped. Johnny withdrew his hand and curled it around his other fist at the small of his back. Frank glanced back and forth between them nervously. “Thank you for your concern,” Gerard continued tightly, “but I’m fine, and I am going to deal with this alone. Now, if you would step out of my office…”
Johnny gave Gerard a short nod and turned on his heel. He brushed roughly past Frank as he left. “What was that all about?” Frank asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Nothing to worry about,” Gerard replied blithely.
***
“Frank, I’m sending Johnny with you today.”
Frank couldn’t stop the “Why?” that slipped past his lips. “Sorry, I don’t need to-”
“It’s to show him that I’m not a kid,” Gerard said candidly. “He thinks I’m going to fall apart. He doesn’t trust my judgment. He needs to.”
Frank nodded quickly. “So, what’s on the agenda?”
Gerard handed him a list. “Check up on these people,” he said, pointing to the first two names, “get money from these people,” he moved his finger to the next three, “and get back here by five, ‘cause I have a meeting I want you here for.”
It wasn’t what Gerard’s grandfather would have done. He would’ve made everything happen through phone calls and reliable third parties, and he wouldn’t have bothered checking up on people first, but Frank liked Gerard’s way better. Gerard was more peaceful, yes, but he certainly wasn’t weak.
Frank pocketed the list and gave Gerard an encouraging grin before running off to find Johnny.
***
“Dude,” Frank said over drinks as he watched Mikey eye a girl at the opposite end of the bar. “You’re never going to win Alicia’s heart if you keep sleeping around.”
“Shut up, Frank,” Mikey replied shortly.
“At least he’s getting some,” Mark added. “I don’t think he needs your advice.”
“Hey! I was with Jamia for two years; I know how to get a girl.”
“She dumped you,” Mikey said. Mark cracked up.
“No!” Frank objected shrilly. “We just… came to a mutual agreement that we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
“Dude,” Mikey said, raising his eyebrows expressively. “Give it up. She dumped you. In junior year.”
Frank frowned down at his beer. “She was too good for me, anyway,” he conceded miserably.
“High school sweethearts never last,” Mark said, as if he knew, waving his bottle around in front of them. He’d never had a steady girlfriend in school, only hookups. Mikey downed the rest of his beer and after a moment, he nodded.
“Who gives a fuck about what Alicia thinks,” he asked rhetorically.
“You do,” Frank replied. “You can’t say you don’t care.”
“Yeah, man,” Mark added, apparently playing both sides of the debate. “You lost your virginity to her in Gerard’s bedroom when you were fifteen.”
“What?!” Frank cried. Mikey groaned in annoyance. “Mikey! I have to sleep in there! Jesus. Now all I’m gonna be able to think about is you and Alicia having stupid first-time sex on my bed.”
“You sleep on Gerard’s old bed,” Mark said. “You think he’s never had an orgasm on it?”
“Gerard never had a girlfriend in high school,” Mikey pointed out, and Mark cackled. “And besides, we did it on the floor the first time.”
“Oh. Oh god. Mikey, Jesus Christ. The first time?”
“I was sharing a room with this loser,” Mikey said, jabbing his thumb at Mark. “What’d you want me to do?”
“Not have sex in your brother’s bed! Ew, gross! God. I’m so telling Gee about this.”
“He knows,” Mikey said morosely. He stole the rest of Frank’s beer. “He walked in on us, once.”
Mark started laughing hysterically and couldn’t stop, not even when Mikey thumped him on the back. Frank put his head down on his arms. “Can we talk about something other than Mikeyway’s sex life, please?”
“Better his than yours,” Mark giggled drunkenly. “At least he’s getting some.”
“God, Mark, shut up,” Frank groaned.
***
When Frank rolled out of bed the next morning and stumbled down to the kitchen, Gerard was already there, freshly showered and rubbing a towel over his hair with one hand and pouring himself and Frank each a cup of coffee with the other.
“Busy day today,” Gerard said tiredly. Frank took his mug gratefully from Gerard’s outstretched hand. Apparently distracted, Gerard reached out and touched the ‘hope’ tattoo on Frank’s chest with one fingertip. Frank tried not to shiver. “I need you to wear a suit, though. We’re going out.”
“What kind of ‘out’?”
“Your kind.”
A suit he wouldn’t mind getting blood on, then. Frank grinned. “I’ll go shower.”
***
Pete was their chauffeur today; he picked them up in a dark blue car Frank hadn’t seen before. Chris sat beside him in the passenger seat, and Frank was in the back with Gerard, double-checking his weapons. He had a blade strapped to his ankle and two guns in shoulder holsters, but he was mostly counting on his fists.
“What’s the deal?” Frank asked quietly. Gerard didn’t always tell Frank the reasons behind his plans, unless Frank asked. He knew the other guys didn’t get the same privilege.
“Mr. Goldwin needs to understand that he can’t order me around,” Gerard replied smoothly, tilting his chin up. He looked completely unaffected.
“You want me to kill him?”
“No, not yet. Just fuck him up. This time.”
That sounded ominous even to Frank, but he nodded, grinning. “My pleasure.”
It worked out the way it always did: Frank and Gerard went in and did whatever needed to be done. Chris stayed just outside, in case he was needed (he usually wasn’t, lately, and Frank was pretty fucking smug about that). Pete waited with the car, as extra backup and a quick getaway.
The guy Frank was supposed to fuck up was a middle-aged, heavy-set guy with a butt-ugly mustache and an unfortunate mole on his nose. His name was Jimmy Jackson, and everything about him set Frank on edge.
He greeted Gerard with a half-smile and a perfunctory handshake, and didn’t offer his hand to Frank. Frank stuck out his hand and said, “Jimmy?”
“Mr. Jackson,” Jimmy corrected with a grimace, and that was his first mistake. Frank had to keep himself from punching Mr. Jimmy Jackson in the nose right then.
Jimmy led them in to the living room and had them both sit on the sofa, throwing himself into an armchair before they’d even come all the way into the room. That was his second mistake. Frank clenched his fists. No wonder Gerard wanted to fuck him up.
It became obvious as Jimmy and Gerard spoke that Jimmy had no respect at all for Gerard. The Family, maybe, but he was treating Gerard like a bratty teenager. Gerard hadn’t been treated like a teenager since he was fourteen, and even men three times his age now knew to show respect for the head of the fucking Family.
Finally, Gerard interrupted the guy’s whiny monologue with, “If you think I’m going to listen to you, you’re sorely mistaken. If you think I care, you’re just an idiot.”
“Mr. Way-” Jimmy began, in a tone that meant he thought Gerard was being unreasonable.
“Frankie?”
“With pleasure,” Frank growled.
The plus side to being short was that Frank was always underestimated. He was still young enough to have a shitload of pent-up energy and his body was still pretty resilient, and he rarely got hurt too badly. His favorite method of attack was throwing himself on his victim, or climbing them like a tree and beating the shit out of their face until they went down. Chris had taught him to use his small stature to its best advantage.
In this case, he launched himself off the sofa and tackled Jimmy with enough force to overturn the armchair. He pinned Jimmy down and snarled at him for a few seconds before winding up for the first punch.
When Gerard felt Jimmy’s face was suitably fucked up, he touched Frank’s shoulder gently. “C’mon,” he murmured. “We’re leaving.”
Frank popped up-the dude only managed one real retaliatory punch to Frank’s ribs, but it was probably only going to bruise for a few days, nothing serious-and followed Gerard out of the house, straightening his suit as he walked. He had blood on the cuffs of his shirt, and a little bit on his lapels, but otherwise, he didn’t look too bad.
Gerard pulled handkerchief from his front pocket and reached for Frank’s chin. Frank obediently stilled and tilted his head so Gerard could wipe the blood off his face.
“Okay?”
Frank nodded. “Dude was a fucking pussy. Annoying as fuck, though.”
Gerard grimaced and muttered, “Yeah.” He tapped Chris on the shoulder as they passed him and the three of them headed back towards the car. When they were all in, he said, “We’re making one more stop before we go home.”
“Same deal?” Frank asked.
“Not quite.”
Frank waited for more, but Gerard remained silent. Frank raised his eyebrows. Gerard replied with a little wave of his hand that meant ‘I’ll tell you later’.
Pete parked the car at a derelict apartment building. Gerard told Chris to wait in the car, and then he and Frank marched confidently towards the elevator.
“This is about intimidation,” Gerard murmured once the doors had closed. He pressed the button for the fourth floor. “Freak him out. Use a gun or a knife, I don’t care, but not your fists. I want to scare him, but don’t leave a mark on him. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Frank replied quickly. He unholstered one of his pistols and emptied the clip into his hand. “What’s this about, Gee?”
The elevator dinged and the doors opened.
“I’ll tell you later,” Gerard said, already walking. He stopped at the door marked 4B and pressed his ear to it, ducking beneath the peephole. Frank could hear trance music from inside, the bass turned up enough to make the walls vibrate. Gerard moved away and nodded. “Knock it down.”
“Not being polite today?” Frank teased. He took a few steps back and shook the tension out of his arms.
“Not this time,” Gerard replied grimly.
Frank took a flying leap at the door, throwing all of his weight behind his left shoulder. The door bulged with the force and cracked, and Frank threw himself at it again. It snapped off its hinges and Frank even landed on his feet with only minor stumbling. There were three guys and a seriously stoned chick inside, lounging around on the floor with a bunch of pillows and blankets. The room was hazy with smoke, and Frank smelled pot. He found the stereo and silenced it.
Gerard marched right in and grabbed one of the men by the hair, yanking his head back. The other guys stared at him with wide eyes, unmoving. The girl was too out of it to even react. Frank glared at them and they cowered. They weren’t going to be any trouble.
He looked back at Gerard and was surprised to find him on his knees behind the guy, both hands fisted in the guy’s hair now, bending around to whisper in his ear. Frank couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the dude looked like he was about to piss himself. Gerard had that effect on people, sometimes.
“Frank?”
“Yeah?”
Gerard whispered something else into the dude’s ear and he nodded frantically. Gerard then rose smoothly to his feet, still holding the guy’s hair in one hand. “Teach him a lesson,” Gerard said.
Frank pulled out the gun and steadied it between the guy’s eyes. He could practically see his pulse quicken. Frank smirked.
“You fuck with my brother again, I will kill you,” Gerard hissed, jerking on the guy’s hair. “Got it?”
Frank cocked the gun and pressed it against his sweaty forehead.
“Yeah, yeah, got it, I got it, I swear, it won’t happen again, I swear to God,” the guy cried. His eyes were welling up with tears. “It wasn’t my fault, I just told her what I saw-”
Gerard let go of his hair and circled around behind Frank, leaning in to whisper in harsh tones, “Forget what I said before. Mark him up, below the neck.”
“With pleasure,” Frank snarled. He gave the guy a kick to the chest to get him on the floor, and then another two swift kicks to the side. The man curled in on himself, shouting for Frank to stop. Frank felt Gerard’s hand on his arm.
“Let’s go.”
Frank kicked him one more time and followed Gerard out the door. When they were back in the elevator, he asked, “That guy fucked with Mikey?”
Gerard gave him a lopsided grin and said, “He won’t anymore.”
***
“Clean yourself up and call your dad,” Gerard said when they got home. “I have some work to do. Alone.”
Frank frowned but said, “Sure,” and went to do as Gerard asked.
He took a long, scalding shower and tried to work some of the tension out of his back. His knuckles were bruised, but none of the blood he scrubbed off his skin was his own. His left shoulder was sore as all hell from knocking down the door, and though the hot water helped, Frank could feel his muscles stiffening.
He didn’t bother getting dressed before calling his father, flopping down on his bed with only a towel around his waist.
“Hey, Dad,” he said without preamble. “Gerard wanted me to call you?”
“Yeah,” Franco replied slowly. “There’s a meeting tomorrow night. Hadn’t he told you?”
“No, he didn’t mention it…” Frank said, frowning. It wasn’t like Gerard to keep things like that from him.
“Well, apparently something’s going down. Just tell ‘im everything’s as it should be.”
“Sure,” Frank said. His dad was being vague on purpose, but Frank trusted that Gerard would tell him why if he needed to know.
“So, how was your day, kid?”
“Beat a couple of people up,” Frank replied. “Gee’s been cooped up in his office for like, a month. I think this was partly just to give me some exercise or something so I would quit whining at him. I was going kind of stir-crazy here, and I wasn’t really being subtle about it.”
“He’s probably stressed,” Franco observed quietly.
“Yeah,” Frank agreed. “I think he is.”
Franco didn’t stay on the phone long after that. He made his excuses and hung up, leaving Frank staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, at the dragon Gerard had painted there when it was still his room. It was calming, all of the swirls of color.
Frank sighed and rolled to his feet, searched the floor for a pair of sweatpants, and went downstairs shirtless. He knocked on Gerard’s office door, waiting for permission before entering. Gerard was at his desk, phone in hand but not in use.
“My dad says ‘everything is as it should be.’” Frank threw himself onto the sofa and covered his eyes again. “Is something going on tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I wanted to meet with the caporegimi,” Gerard answered simply.
“Oh.” Frank couldn’t very well accuse Gerard of not mentioning it to him, not when Gerard was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Frank heard him punching numbers into the phone.
“You alright, Frank? You look kind of-Yes, hello, this is Gerard Way for Mr. Ricci?”
Frank sighed.
***
That night, Frank woke up to Gerard’s hand on his foot, shaking him gently and murmuring, “Frank. Frankie. Wake up.”
“What? Huh, what?” Frank gasped, sitting bolt upright and instantly wide awake. His shoulder throbbed in protest of the sudden movement. “Gee?”
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Gerard soothed, rubbing his ankle. “I just need to talk to you.”
Frank rubbed his eyes. “In the middle of the night?”
“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Gerard replied sheepishly.
“Whatever, it’s fine.” Frank yawned. “What’s up?”
“That meeting tomorrow,” Gerard began in a whisper. “I think something’s starting, and I want to catch it before it happens.”
Frank blinked. “Um.”
“I don’t know exactly what to do about it, but… I think I have to do something.”
“Um. Yeah, Gee? Maybe I’m just still half-asleep, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Gerard sighed and flopped onto his back. Frank crawled down to the end of the bed to join him. They stared up at the dragon together.
“That guy today, Jimmy?”
Jimmy the Disrespectful Asshole, Frank thought. He nodded.
“He’s not the first,” Gerard admitted quietly.
“Yeah, sure, but-”
“There’s a bunch of guys, around my dad’s age, or would be if he-”
“Yeah.”
“They’re like… They don’t want me. They want my grandfather. I’m just a kid to them.”
“You’re twenty-six.”
“And they’re in their forties and fifties.” Gerard rolled onto his side and stared at Frank. “The older guys, they know how it works. They understand when someone takes over. The young guys are all younger than me, so they don’t question me. But these middle-aged guys…”
“They’re assholes,” Frank interrupted vehemently. “I will fuck them up, Gee, every one of them.”
Gerard raised a hand to his mouth and started nibbling at his thumbnail. “I don’t think that’s enough,” he murmured. They fell silent for a few minutes.
“So what’s this meeting about, then?” Frank asked. “What are you gonna say? What did what my dad said mean?”
“Frankie, I just think-”
“Gerard, tell me. What’s going on?”
“I don’t think it’s just those guys,” Gerard finally said. He sounded almost ashamed to admit it. “I think there’s guys in the Family who are thinking the same things.”
“In the Family?” Frank asked disbelievingly. “You mean-”
“I asked your dad to figure out who he trusted.”
Frank let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. If Gerard still trusted his dad’s judgment, he still trusted Frank.
“He said everything’s fine,” Frank whispered.
“I know,” Gerard breathed. “And to be honest, that’s worrying me a little bit.”
Frank swallowed. So much for trust. “Gerard-”
“Frankie, no-I trust you with my life and my secrets,” Gerard whispered urgently, “and I just need to know if you will stay with me no matter what.”
“Of course,” Frank replied instantly. He thought that was obvious.
“I mean it.”
“I mean it. Gerard, I love you.”
Gerard curled his hand around the back of Frank’s neck and kissed his forehead.
“Things are really fucked up right now, Frankie,” he whispered when he pulled away. “Right now I trust you and Mikey and Vinnie, and that’s about it.”
Gerard hadn’t moved his hand from the back of Frank’s neck. Frank closed his eyes. “I’ll protect you,” he whispered.
He felt Gerard nod, and a second later, he was alone in the room. He rolled onto his back, his eyes still closed.
“Fuck.”
***
Gerard tapped the top of Frank’s head the next day when he came down for breakfast. Frank paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “You have an appointment with Bryar this afternoon, and I want you at the meeting tonight. Don’t be late.”
Frank twisted around, but Gerard was already disappearing down the hall towards his office. “Okay,” Frank said. He didn’t remember feeling sick recently.
Dr. Bryar had been working for the family for as long as Frank could remember, treating everything from scrapes on the knees to pneumonia to bullet wounds. Frank called him Mob Doctor Bob, just to annoy him. To keep up appearances, he ran a private practice with another doctor who didn’t know anything about Bryar’s clientele, but the Family practically had Bob on retainer.
Frank had to sit around in the waiting room for almost half an hour, making small talk with a woman and her two kids. The older one, he looked to be about ten, kept staring at Frank’s tattoos, and it made him self-conscious. He finally pulled his sleeves down over his knuckles to hide them and the bruises.
“Mr. Iero? Dr. Bryar will see you now.”
Frank then made himself comfortable in Bob’s exam room, settling in for another wait. He’d been seeing Bob for his various medical issues since he was in his teens, anyway, and he was used to waiting by now.
“You’d better not have the flu again,” Bob said when he walked in, holding Frank’s thick file open in one hand.
Frank grinned. “Don’t think so. Gerard just sent me in for a check-up, I think.”
“Yeah, that’s what he told me. Been getting into fights recently?”
“A couple.” Frank held out his hands. “Nothing broken, though.”
Bob gently raised Frank’s knuckles to eye-level and stared closely. He prodded one bruise, but Frank didn’t flinch. Frank had been expecting it. “Gerard said you knocked down a door,” Bob muttered distractedly. “What happened?”
“I knocked down a door,” Frank replied happily. It was fun to annoy Bob, because he was a doctor and he didn’t hurt people. “My shoulder was sore for a while, but I think it’ll be fine.”
“Take off your shirt, let me see. And then you need an up-to-date flu shot, ‘cause I know you’ll go out of your way trying to get sick.”
Frank wiggled out of his hoodie and his t-shirt at the same time, taking care not to move in a way that would make his shoulder twinge. When Bob turned back around to find Frank shirtless, he sighed.
“Frankie.”
“What?”
Bob trailed a finger from Frank’s shoulder to his ribs, and yeah, okay, that hurt a little. “You’ve got a bruise the size of New Jersey here. What was this door made of, titanium?”
“Okay, so I haven’t had much practice breaking down doors. Now I know.”
Bob lifted Frank’s arms and pressed his knuckles lightly into another bruise on his chest. It was about the size of Bob’s fist. “Did the door hit back?”
“No, that was another guy. He didn’t hit very hard, though. I’ll be fine.”
“Does anything else hurt?” Bob asked wearily.
“Nope.”
“Alright. A nurse will give you your shot, then you’re free to go. And if you come in here sick in the next few weeks, I will hurt you.”
“I will try my very best not to contract a fatal disease,” Frank said with his best innocent smile. “Hey, um.” Bob stopped at the door and looked back at him expectantly. “Has Gerard been in for his flu shot?”
“No, he’s been putting it off,” Bob replied. “Remind him, would you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
***
Back at home, Frank was once again lying on the sofa in Gerard’s office, but he couldn’t find a position comfortable enough to let him sleep. One shoulder ached from its run-in with a door, and the other ached from the stupid flu shot. Frank groaned and flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face in the musty cushion.
“Everything okay?” Gerard asked.
“Bob wants you in for your flu shot,” Frank mumbled. “Also, I can’t get comfortable.”
“Ugh,” Gerard groaned. “I’ll get the fucking shot. Eventually.”
Frank turned over again. “Why’d you schedule me an appointment, anyway? I haven’t been sick or anything lately.”
Gerard shrugged, then sighed. “It’s flu season, and people have been sick, and you have the immune system of a sponge. I really can’t afford you spending time in the hospital right now.”
Frank nodded. “Yeah, well. You hate hospitals, so you’d better get that shot, too.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gerard replied, waving him off. “You should go upstairs and rest, you look pretty beat.”
“But what about the meeting-”
“It’s not for a few hours,” Gerard said warmly. “Go on up. Maybe take a bath and soak your shoulder.”
The idea of a hot bath sounded pretty irresistible. Frank pushed himself off the couch and stumbled towards the door. “I’ll be back later,” he said, giving Gerard a grateful smile.
“I’m counting on it.”
***
Frank stayed at Gerard’s shoulder during the entire meeting. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, not even his dad’s; he stared straight ahead, at the closed door, or watched Gerard and concentrated on keeping a neutral expression on his face.
Gerard was as smooth and controlled as ever, and if Frank hadn’t known that he was on edge, he never would have guessed. It was like every other Family meeting Gerard had ever conducted. He smiled, he was polite and friendly, and he listened when the other men talked. As they were filing out, he called Franco back.
As soon as the door closed and it was just the three of them in the room, Gerard stood up and asked, “Who?”
Franco’s gaze darted over to Frank, but Frank kept his face a blank mask. “There’s nobody,” his dad replied nervously.
“I want you to test everyone. Every single one of them. Check them out. And then I want names.” Gerard’s hands were in fists on top of his desk. He looked scary as fuck. “Understand?”
Franco clenched his jaw and said, “Yes, sir.”
“You can go.”
The door opened and closed again, and Gerard deflated, sinking into his chair with his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he sighed. “Fuck, Frankie.”
Frank put his hand on Gerard’s shoulder and squeezed once in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Frank started to worry about how stressed this was making Gerard.
“Tell me you’re still mine,” Gerard said without lifting his head. “Tell me you’re still on my side.”
Frank sank to his knees beside Gerard’s chair to look up at him through the mess of black hair falling in front of his face. “Always, Gee,” he whispered, smiling softly. “I’m yours.”
***
When Frank left Gerard’s office, he found his father in the lounge, smoking. A glance at the ashtray told him that Franco was on his third cigarette. “I thought you’d left,” Frank said casually, digging into his pocket for his own pack. His dad obviously wanted to talk to him.
“I don’t know what that boy thinks he’s doing, but-”
“Who?” Frank asked, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach.
“Fucking Gerard,” Franco spat while Frank was lighting his cigarette. Frank’s hand shook. He took a breath and concentrated on holding the flame steady. He wanted to remind Franco that they were in Gerard’s house, that Gerard was their boss, but his dad kept speaking. “He can’t throw that shit out there in the middle of a fucking meeting and then order me to check my guys as if I didn’t trust them. I do trust them, and so should he,” Franco finished, jabbing his finger towards Gerard’s office.
“He’s just being careful,” Frank shot back defensively. He looked down and watched the tip of his cigarette burning, watched as the paper turned brown and black. “He has to be careful who he trusts, especially now.”
“He’s acting like he doesn’t trust us,” Franco said bitterly. Frank didn’t answer, and his silence was enough for Franco to fill in the blanks. “Oh, fuck, Frankie, don’t tell me you’re buying into his bullshit. I’m your father-”
“He has a point,” Frank interrupted sharply. “Test your men. I’ll see you Friday.”
Frank ground out his cigarette in the glass ashtray, then turned on his heel and stormed upstairs to his bedroom. Even Frank could admit that his father’s attitude was suspicious, and that Gerard was probably right to have doubts. If Gerard couldn’t control his own caporegimi, things would get bad really fast. Frank didn’t know if Gerard was prepared for that, or if he had even considered the possibility. He hoped Gerard wasn’t stumbling forward blindly.
***
[ part 3]