Three Cheers for Tyranny [part 1]
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]
While he was growing up, people called Frank Iero Jr. either Frank Jr., Frankie, or sometimes just plain Frank, because they usually called his dad Franco. He knew a few Italian words and phrases, and he could usually hold his own in the sprawling, good-natured family arguments.
Frank was used to the adults around him fighting. He had a large, Italian family; it was only natural. For a lot of his childhood, he was split between two homes: that of his parents, and that of Papa Rush. He actually preferred Papa’s, if only because that’s where his cousins were. Frank’s parents fought all the time, anyway, and even Papa’s house, which always had more occupants than Frank could keep track of, wasn’t as full of anger.
All the adults Frank knew fought, though, which was why it was such a shock to him when his mother and father sat him down one day and announced that they were getting a divorce.
Frank left New Jersey with his mother and went to live with a man named Bradley Johnson and his four kids. Bradley-not Brad, never Brad, so Frank made a point of calling him Brad at every opportunity-was a big guy, he looked like he’d played football in college, and he was blonde. His kids were named Jack, Brian, Amy, and Sarah, and they were all little carbon copies of him, even the twin girls. They were also exceedingly polite, got near-perfect grades in school, and played sports. Frank thought it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen, and he said as much to his dad during one of their weekly phone calls.
A year and a half later-a year and a half of torture, Frank later described it to the family-for Frank’s thirteenth birthday, his mother finally agreed to let Frank live with his father back in New Jersey.
Oddly, it was Gerard and Mikey Way who picked him up from the airport. They stood side by side at the terminal, Mikey staring down at the handheld video game he was playing, chatting idly while they waited. Gerard finally glanced up, noticed Frank standing uncertainly at the gate, and smiled. Frank saw him nudge Mikey in the side, but Mikey was engrossed in his game and didn’t look up. Frank started towards them, grinning. As soon as he was in range, Gerard pulled him into a tight hug, making Frank’s backpack slip off his shoulder and to the floor.
Mikey picked it up. “God, Frank, what the hell do you have in this thing?”
Frank reluctantly pulled out of Gerard’s warm embrace to look at Mikey. “Food. And a fuck-ton of CDs.”
Mikey’s face brightened. “Really? Sweet!”
Gerard brushed his fingers through Frank’s hair; it was cut into a mohawk that flopped across Frank’s forehead and was dyed black and white. “I like it,” he pronounced with a grin. “It’s very punk. Very you.”
Frank tossed his head back; he was proud of his hair. He’d cut and dyed it himself, without telling his mom first. He’d been grounded for a week.
Gerard’s hair, black as always, was hanging down to his chin. It looked a mess. “At least I can blame teenage rebellion,” he said. “What’s your excuse?”
Mikey looked almost exactly how Frank remembered him, though: streaky hair and glasses covering his eyes and his pointed chin buried in the collar of his coat.
“God,” Frank continued, exhaling loudly and slinging an arm over Mikey’s shoulder. “Those kids were so… ugh, blonde, like you wouldn’t believe. I missed you guys.”
Gerard laughed and tugged the two younger boys into step behind him. “C’mon,” he said over his shoulder. “Vinnie’s waiting for us at Baggage Claim.”
“Awesome,” Frank replied. “Where’s my dad?”
“He’s working,” Gerard said shortly. He kept a hand on Mikey’s arm to keep him from bumping into things as they walked; Mikey’d turned his attention back to his game. “You can stay with us for a few days, okay?”
It was phrased like a question, but the way Gerard said it, it didn’t sound like one. Frank shrugged and nodded. He was just glad to be back with the people he knew and loved, back in a familiar environment. Back home.
***
As soon as Frank stepped inside the Rush house, he was attacked, pounced upon by Mark, and then by Mark and Tony’s mom, Maria, who tried to pinch his cheeks and smother him in kisses.
“Hi, Aunt Maria,” Frank mumbled as she ruffled his hair. “Yeah, I missed you, too. Jesus, Mark, get off me!”
“Your hair looks stupid,” Mark said. He bounded away.
“Fuck you!” Frank shouted after him. Maria rolled her eyes, and Frank blushed and murmured an apology.
“Good to have you back, Frankie,” she replied warmly, ruffling his hair one last time before wandering after Mark.
“C’mon,” Gerard said quietly. Mikey and Vinnie had disappeared during the confusion. “You’re staying with Mikey. Let’s bring your stuff up.”
***
The boys quickly fell back into their old habits of causing happy mayhem around the house and at school. They went to the same Catholic high school, and even though they were all in different grades, they were as inseparable as ever during their free periods. It was just like old times. Almost.
While Frank had been away, Gerard had grown up. Tony had too, to a lesser extent. The two of them would often disappear into Gerard’s bedroom while Frank, Mark, and Mikey horsed around wreaking havoc.
That was mostly Frank and Mark, actually. Mikey stayed off to the side, watching them wrestle or listening to them bicker, and play his video games. Sometimes he jeered, egging them on from the sidelines, but he had always been more reserved than the others, even Gerard.
At school, though, Mikey was an entirely different person. Of the five of them, Mikey was the only one who had a wide circle of friends; freshmen like Frank and seniors like Gerard, girls and boys both. Frank was impressed, really, because he’d always thought of Mikey as kind of socially awkward.
Gerard, while not quite socially awkward, was definitely not a social butterfly. That was another weird thing, because even though Gerard had always been pretty introverted, at home he had a dramatic, exhibitionist streak a mile wide.
Frank stuck to Mikey like glue and made friends through him. It wasn’t a bad way to get through school; there was practically no effort required to be part of the popular crowd when he was around family. He just ignored the insults murmured in his direction when he was alone, walking the halls. Most of his classmates knew better than to mess with him. Messing with Frank meant messing with his family.
***
“‘Don’t listen to him,’ she says. Every time, she says that,” Gerard sighed, exhaling a long cloud of smoke and tapping his cigarette against the glass ashtray that sat on his bed, next to his foot. He had his legs crossed and his hoodie across his lap, flecks of ash littering the dark fabric. “‘Your father was a wonderful man.’”
When Gerard spoke in his mother’s accent, he sounded almost like a girl for real. Aunt Donna’s voice was stronger Italian than Jersey, while Gerard’s was the opposite. It sounded nice, though. Frank wanted to hear Gerard actually speak Italian.
“Was he?” Frank asked curiously. “I mean, was he a ‘wonderful man’ like she says?”
Gerard shrugged. “I don’t know, I barely remember the guy. Ma gets all weepy every time she talks about him, though, so I guess she loved him? Papa and Helena hated him, though. I know that much.”
He puffed on his cigarette again. Frank watched in fascination, savoring the smell in his nostrils. “Can I have a cigarette?” he asked hopefully, bouncing a little on the bed.
“No,” Gerard replied, chuckling deep in his throat. “You’re too young.”
“Am not!” Frank cried, realizing too late that the outburst made him sound even younger than he was. “Give me a cigarette or I’ll punch you in the face.”
“No, you won’t.” Gerard grinned and gestured towards the living room, where they could hear Mark and Tony shouting at each other. “Go punch Mark in the face, make him give you one.” His hand left a trail of smoke in the air as he moved.
Frank tumbled off the bed and made for the front hallway, shouting, “Mark! Give me a cigarette or I’ll punch you in the face!”
Mark was only kind of a bastard about it; he held his pack up high above his head, out of Frank’s reach, but Frank just climbed him and snatched it out of his hand. Mark let it go without a fuss. Frank decided he was the cool cousin, to which Mark replied, “Duh, dude.”
He went back into Gerard’s room after that, and Gerard tossed him his silver lighter. Frank clambered onto the bed and hunched over, shielding the feeble flame from the nonexistent wind.
Gerard gestured to Frank’s hands with the fingers holding his cigarette. “Not your first time, right?”
“Nah,” Frank said out of the side of his mouth. “I’ve stolen my dad’s cigs a few times before.”
Gerard let the subject drop. He seemed cool with letting a fourteen-year-old smoke on his bed, though, so maybe he was the cool cousin. Frank relayed these thoughts to Gerard, who laughed.
“I’m not your cousin,” he said after a moment.
“Yeah, I know.” Frank shrugged. “Whatever, man. Oh, hey, I wanted to ask you… Why do you call your grandma ‘Helena’?”
Gerard scooted back so he was leaning against the headboard. “I dunno,” he said. “I’ve heard people call her Helen, though, so I guess that stuck. Sort of. What can I say, dude, my brain’s a weird place.”
“Your brain’s an awesome place,” Frank corrected, looking around the bedroom. Gerard was in the process of redecorating: sketches and half-painted images covered the walls. Mostly of creepy stuff like bats and vampires and scary-ass houses on top of rocky mountains, but there was a unicorn in one corner that Gerard swore Mikey had requested. Knowing Mikey, Frank didn’t doubt him.
He glanced back at Gerard and caught him smiling. He shrugged off the compliment and said, “As long as you think so, Frankie.”
***
After graduating high school, Gerard started hanging out with Papa Rush while the rest of them were at class. He waited a year, until Tony graduated, and then the two of them moved to New York so Gerard could attend the School of Visual Arts. Frank didn’t really understand why Tony wanted to go with him, but he didn’t really care.
Mikey and Mark were in their senior year, and they, along with Frank, were the most well-known kids in the entire school. They earned reputations as partiers; Mikey could score pills from God-knows-where and Mark, with his fake ID, supplied the alcohol. Frank bounced between them, high on the freedom of being allowed to do pretty much anything he wanted without repercussions.
Frank didn’t really have any plans for what he was going to do after high school. Hell, he didn’t have any plans for next weekend. He knew Mikey, at least, was expected to go to college, but Frank and Mark didn’t have the same family duty.
Frank, not even a blood relative of Papa Rush, didn’t have anything to live up to except his father, who’d been arrested three times, each for a different crime, and Frank was already on his way to fulfilling that destiny: he’d been picked up once for shoplifting from a record store, once for driving while intoxicated, and a total of three times for defacing public property, all before his eighteenth birthday.
It was Gerard who finally gave Frank a plan. “You’re going to work for the family,” he said. At the time, Frank didn’t really understand. What Gerard meant was that he was going to work for the Family. Frank knew, of course, that Papa Rush was a powerful, rich man, and that his dad worked for him somehow, but he didn’t know what that meant.
About a month before Frank’s graduation, Gerard and Tony came home from their little rented apartment in New York. Frank’s dad picked him up from school, which was surprising in and of itself. Frank, thoroughly confused, just did as he was told.
“C’mon, kid,” Frank’s dad hissed, ushering him quickly out of the house. “We have an appointment.” Frank rolled his eyes and took the hangers his dad handed him. One had the white dress shirt Frank had worn once to his Confirmation, the second had a pair of black slacks that were frayed at the cuffs, and the third held one of Franco’s many dress shirts.
Frank didn’t know what they were doing at a tailor; they were pretty well-off, but they certainly couldn’t afford this place. Maybe the tailor downtown, with the sign that was falling apart, but this one had a man in a suit bringing them drinks while they waited.
Frank kept his mouth shut and stood obediently on the little platform while the tailor poked him with pins and chalk and whatever else. He found it slightly depressing that he still fit into his Confirmation shirt, but took comfort in the fact that it was a little bit tight in the sleeves.
His dad stood to the side and made casual conversation with the tailor, who seemed to know more about whatever formal occasion these clothes were needed for than Frank did. After they left the shop, Frank found the courage to ask what was up.
“Family meeting,” was all Franco would say. “You’re going to dress up, show up, and shut up, understand?” Frank nodded. “And get a haircut.”
“Dad!” Frank cried, one hand flying to his hair. It was shaped into a sort-of-mohawk, with the sides dyed red. He combed his fingers through it so that it fell awkwardly across his forehead. “Why do I need a haircut?”
“You look like a punk. You have to look respectable. Look decent for the next week and then do what you want, I don’t give a fuck. But you are not going to fuck this up for me, got it?”
***
Frank was led into the office by Uncle Joe, and his dad’s hand was tight and encouraging on his shoulder. The room was dark, and there were a few older guys standing or sitting against the walls. Joe sat down in the chair in front of the desk, leaving Frank and his father to stand beside him.
Papa Rush was sitting behind the desk with his fingers laced together, elbows on the desktop. Gerard was there, too, standing at his shoulder. He grinned at Frank; one side of his mouth was turned up more than the other, and it made him look almost smug. Frank clenched his jaw to keep from smirking back at him and settled for lifting his eyebrows once, quickly, in Gerard’s direction. They’d grown up together; Gerard would know what it meant.
“Frankie Iero,” Papa said, and Frank’s attention was forced back front and center. “Your father tells me you’re a pretty good shot.”
Frank blushed and hunched his shoulders a bit. His dad squeezed once, and he relaxed again. “Yeah, I guess, sir. I mean, I’ve been practicing. Dad and Johnny,” Frank nodded towards Johnny DeLuca, who was sitting off to the side, “have taken me to the range a few times.”
“Do you get into fights at school?”
“Um.” Gerard pinched his lips together and subtly nodded at him, and Frank said, “A few times, sir, yes.”
“Did you win?”
“Yes, sir.” Frank’s gaze flicked to Gerard, who rolled his eyes. Frank smirked at him.
Papa smiled and lowered his hands. “You’re a good boy, Frankie. Have a seat.” Frank and his father sat down on one of the couches lining the walls. The rest of the meeting was pretty boring, all the old guys talking about things that Frank didn’t really care about, and Frank amused himself by making faces at Gerard and trying to get him to laugh. He came close, a couple of times.
Gerard grabbed his wrist on their way out and pulled him towards the stairs. He led the way up to his bedroom and sat Frank down on the bed, then pulled over his desk chair and dropped into it.
“It was like a scene from The Godfather in there,” Frank said.
Gerard laughed. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “How did I not know about all this? How long have you known?”
“I’ve known since I was a kid,” Gerard replied, shrugging. “But it’s different for me. I’m supposed to take over one day, y’know?”
“What about Mikey?”
“He knows, but it’s not really the same. He’s not expected to…”
“Yeah, yeah.” Frank rubbed his face. “This is just kind of surreal, y’know? I mean, it’s weird, but none of it’s that much of a stretch. Like, I always kind of knew, or something.”
“Yeah, well, if you grow up around it, it’ll just be like, the next logical step.”
“Yeah, exactly!”
Gerard nodded and went quiet, just staring at Frank.
“Um,” Frank said, to break the silence.
“When you graduate, you’re going to work for the family,” Gerard said. His voice was somehow different than it had been a second ago. Smoother, more confident. Frank also realized that Gerard wasn’t asking, and he wasn’t going to accept ‘no’ for an answer.
“Okay,” Frank whispered. It wasn’t like he even wanted to disagree. “Okay.”
***
Gerard and Tony went back up to New York after that and Mikey spent most of his time at college, though he still lived at home. After Frank graduated, he and Mark started going out with some of Papa’s best guys, his top button-men, people like Johnny DeLuca, to train. Papa insisted that they learn from the best.
Frank already knew how to use a handgun, but Johnny taught him where to shoot if you wanted to kill, or just hurt, or if you wanted them to die slowly. A large guy Frank only knew as Worm taught him to use switchblades and knives, and how to intimidate people with just a look. Worm’s friend Chris took Frank and Mark out to a gym, where they learned various fighting techniques.
Within a year, Johnny deemed them both good enough to go out and work on their own. Frank was a little disappointed that they weren’t given much to do, though. He’d never had to kill anyone, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not, but he didn’t appreciate being thought of as a kid, like he couldn’t handle it. He wanted to prove himself. His first tattoo, a band around his left bicep, read Loyalty - Respect - Honesty. He wanted to live up to that. He wasn’t a kid anymore.
“You are a kid,” Mark said when Frank complained to him. He caught Frank around the middle and tackled him to the ground. Frank got in a few light jabs to Mark’s ribs. “Ow, fuck, Frankie!”
Frank squirmed out from under him and immediately jumped onto his back. “It just pisses me off,” he said, “‘cause I could totally do it.”
Mark sighed and stopped fighting. “I’m sure you will, eventually.”
***
Things were fine until Papa Rush fell ill.
“Gee, I think you should come home,” Frank whispered, listening carefully for the catch in Gerard’s breath. “You need to come home.”
“Where’s Mikey?”
“He’s here; he’s taking a few days off classes. Gerard, you need to-”
“We’ll be there tomorrow.” Gerard took a quick breath. “Frank, where’s Helena?”
“Just come home, Gerard. She needs you. We all will.”
Gerard hung up the phone without another word, and Frank was left staring at the silent handset. It was as clear as day to him that Papa wasn’t going to make it, and he was scared. Gerard was only in his twenties, but he was next in line. He’d been trained for this, to take over, Frank knew that, but just because Gerard needed to take over didn’t mean that he was ready to.
***
Frank waited for Gerard out in the hall, his eyes lowered out of respect for Maria and her sons, who were looking at each other in varying states of dejection. His own father had come in yesterday to pay his last respects, along with two of the other caporegimi, Johnny DeLuca and Salvatore Bertini.
Frank considered fleeing downstairs, but he thought Vinnie and Elena might be down there, and besides, he wanted to be there for Gerard and Mikey when they came out. It seemed weird, to him, that they were all just waiting around for Papa to die.
The door cracked open. Mikey slipped out, quickly wiping his eyes and resettling his glasses on the tip of his nose. Maria touched his shoulder. “He wants a priest,” Mikey mumbled.
“I’ll go,” Frank offered quickly. Someone had already called Father Russo; he was waiting in the living room. Frank flew down the stairs, carefully skirting around the kitchen, where he could hear Vinnie’s low, heavily accented voice. He didn’t go back up after fetching Father Russo. He didn’t think he’d be able to deal with all the crying family members.
He felt near tears himself. Papa Rush and Elena had practically raised him, and this was like losing one of his own grandparents. Frank threw himself onto the couch and curled up with his knees to his chest.
***
He woke up to Gerard’s hand on his back and he turned over quickly. Gerard’s eyes were rimmed in red, but dry. “Gee?”
“He’s gone,” Gerard breathed. “Would you come upstairs with me?”
Frank rolled up onto his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around Gerard’s neck. He felt Gerard’s chest expand and contract several times as he breathed in deeply. “Of course,” Frank whispered, but they didn’t move for what felt like several minutes. The house was silent to Frank’s ears. Everything was somehow indescribably different.
Gerard’s bedroom was dark and neither of them bothered to turn on the light. Gerard led Frank to the bed and they lay down side by side. Gerard’s pale skin seemed bright in the darkness, framed by his black hair and clothes. He looked tired. Frank couldn’t blame him.
“Where’s Mikey?” he whispered. “Have you told your mom?”
“Mikey’s talking to her now,” Gerard replied. “She’s gonna come home for the funeral.”
Frank thought Gerard’s mom was kind of crazy, and the rest of the family’s opinions supported that. She’d run away after their father died, and eventually moved to the family’s house in Sicily. She very rarely came back to New Jersey, and Frank had only ever met her a few times that he could remember. Frank wondered if she was planning on making amends with Elena.
As if reading Frank’s mind, Gerard added, “She’s not going to stay.” Frank nodded, and they fell quiet.
An indeterminate amount of time passed and Gerard’s eyes were closed; Frank thought he might’ve fallen asleep, but he wasn’t sure. Gerard’s body still seemed tense. Frank carefully put his hand on top of Gerard’s.
“Are you ready for this?” Frank breathed.
Gerard opened his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He turned his hand palm side up and squeezed three of Frank’s fingers. “Frank, I want you to be my consigliere.”
Frank waited for the punch line. When it didn’t come, he asked, “Um, what?” Gerard just stared at him. “You can’t be serious,” Frank said at long last.
“I am,” Gerard replied simply.
“Do you want people to hate you?”
“I know you, Frank. I trust you. I want you for this.”
“You’re insane,” Frank said. “I’m barely out of high school!”
“Vinnie’s going to advise me,” Gerard explained, “and Helena, but they won’t be around forever, and I want you next to me, Frank. My right-hand man. Will you do it?”
“Of course. Fuck, yeah, of course I will.”
“Good,” Gerard said, breaking into a weak smile. “After the funeral, we’ll talk, okay?”
Frank nodded and tilted his head towards the door. “Do you want me to go?”
“You don’t have to…” Gerard closed his eyes again.
Frank nodded again and squeezed Gerard’s hand. “I’ll stay.”
***
The funeral was surprisingly small, at Elena’s request, limited to only the closest family and a handful of important friends. Franco came, along with Johnny and Salvatore, and Vinnie, Papa Rush’s consigliere, and of course Maria and her family. Donna Way made a dramatic, tearful appearance for the ceremony, but after hugging and kissing her boys and paying her respects to Elena, she disappeared again. Elena didn’t voice her disapproval, but to Frank, it was obvious.
Gerard remained stoic and blank through the ceremony, his detached expression rivaling Mikey’s. He kept Frank at his side-his right side, and Frank was sure nobody missed the meaning there-but he let Mikey wander. Tony moved into Mikey’s place at Gerard’s left for the majority of the time.
Back at the house, Frank’s dad approached him. “How are you holding up?” he asked. Frank was pretty much living at Papa’s house-he didn’t know what to call it, now that Papa was dead. Elena’s house? Gerard’s house?-though he still kept a room at his dad’s place. They hadn’t really had a chance to talk in several weeks.
“I’m okay,” Frank replied, glancing around for Gerard.
“And the Ways?”
“They’re holding up, I think.”
“Gerard?” Franco asked pointedly.
Frank bristled. “He’ll be fine.”
“Frank, Michael Rush was a powerful man-”
“Gerard will be fine, Dad,” Frank repeated. He caught Gerard’s eye from across the room. Gerard tilted his head towards the office door. “I have to go,” Frank said.
Gerard was already sitting down when Frank slipped into the room. He took a moment to examine the setting; he’d been in the office before, of course, but it was different, now. Vinnie and Elena were on the couch, Vinnie’s hand resting comfortingly on Elena’s forearm. Gerard sat opposite them, in one of the armchairs that were usually turned towards the desk. The space behind the desk was glaringly empty.
“Frankie,” Vinnie said quietly. He cocked his head at Frank. “Have a seat.”
Frank sat down quickly in the chair next to Gerard.
“People will be coming by the house,” Elena began. She readjusted her glasses on her nose and cleared her throat. “Both to pay their respects to Michael and to properly meet the new Don of the family. You can’t seclude yourself, Gerard. If you are going to take your place in this Family, you must do it now, and you must be sure.”
“I’m sure,” Gerard said.
Vinnie nodded. “You’re young, Gerard. Don’t take this the wrong way, but Elena and I are willing to help you. Advise you.”
“I understand.”
“Frank-”
“I want him as my consigliere,” Gerard broke in quickly.
Vinnie raised both eyebrows, but Elena just nodded. “No offense to either of you,” Vinnie began carefully, “but Frank is a fighter.”
“If you’re going to advise me, I want Frank to learn. He can act as my bodyguard.”
Frank felt trapped by Vinnie’s calculating gaze and Elena’s sad one. He was glad of Gerard’s confidence in him, but now it was something Frank had to live up to. Something big to live up to. It made Frank nervous.
“It’s your decision,” Vinnie said after a lengthy pause. He glanced at Frank. “Has he talked to you about this?”
“He-he just asked,” Frank replied quietly.
“You’re a sharp kid, Frank. You can learn.”
“I will,” Frank said, and at the same time, Gerard said, “He will.”
Vinnie nodded. “Okay. You’ll have to choose an underboss-Mikey, obviously, but in name alone. I think we all know his feelings…” he trailed off pointedly. “Take some time,” he continued, when Gerard nodded. “Learn your men. Figure out who would be best for you, for your second in command. I’ll help you with this.”
“Look to the caporegimi,” Elena added. “They know how to run the business, they have experience.”
“You have time to make your decisions,” Vinnie reiterated. “We just want you to be prepared. Everyone will have questions, and you need to be ready to answer them. Build your trustworthiness; tread carefully at first. You can’t fill Michael’s shoes right away; you must step into them gradually.”
“People will be looking to you to lead the family,” Elena said, “but they won’t want you. Let them get accustomed to the change before you try to do anything drastic.”
Ten minutes later, Frank and Gerard were left alone in the office. Frank hadn’t spoken during the entire second half of the meeting, and he broke his silence now, saying, “You shouldn’t do anything drastic.” Frank took a breath, unsure if it was his place to say these things. Gerard made a questioning noise that Frank took as encouragement. “You’re a smart guy, okay? You’re fucking brilliant. I know that you’ll be a good Don, ‘cause you’re good at anything you put your mind to. But Gee, your grandpa was really fucking good at what he did.”
Gerard nodded slowly. “Just follow his business model, basically?”
“Yeah,” Frank replied. “I think, when his dad died, he really changed things up fast, and now Vinnie’s expecting you to do the same. But he knew what he was doing, so I think you should just learn from that. At least at first.”
“Try not to change things up too much. Stick with what works,” Gerard finished, gesturing vaguely. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
“People won’t trust you, if you do spread your wings too quickly, y’know? Vinnie and Elena are right; let people get used to you first. Give them time to learn to trust you.”
Gerard smiled. “I knew you’d be a good advisor.”
Frank blushed. “I’m your bodyguard, Gerard. And come on, it was nothing you weren’t already thinking.”
“Trusted advisor-slash-bodyguard,” Gerard teased. “No, but seriously, Frank. You’re going to be good at this. We both will. I just want to… Thank you.”
***
In the next two weeks, Frank learned more than he thought possible to know about the Family. He sat with Gerard and Elena as men came in to pay their respects to the previous Don, and Elena filled them in on each person’s background, what they did for the Family, and how trustworthy they had been to Papa Rush. In a rare quiet moment, she teased that she knew more about how the business was run than Papa or Vinnie did, just because of the gossip she shared with the other wives and mothers.
Vinnie showed Frank the files he kept on various politicians and business associates, and said that Frank and Gerard would need to work out some kind of system of their own for sharing information without incriminating people they couldn’t afford to offend.
Frank met with the men who got things done, Johnny and his button-men, including Worm and Chris. They gave Frank a basic run-down of how things worked, who followed whose orders, and how information was passed in secret.
All of the new faces started to blend together for Frank, names lost in a blur of Italian that all sounded the same, and he was exhausted. Gerard had all this to deal with and more. Frank didn’t know how he was staying sane.
Everything was happening so quickly that Frank began to lose confidence that he and Gerard would be able to manage everything on their own.
***
Mark, as always, kept things in perspective by tackling Frank to the ground and throwing weak punches.
“You don’t have to do it on your own,” he said, panting heavily. “Grandma and Vinnie are still gonna help out, and I think Gerard’s telling Tony a lot of stuff, too. Tony’s good at that kind of intellectual shit. Gee probably should’ve picked him as consigliere.”
Frank threw Mark off and kneed him in the stomach. “Shut up. He chose me. I can totally do it.”
“Sure, whatever,” Mark agreed easily. He was likely to agree to anything as long as Frank’s knee was in the vicinity of his crotch. They wrestled for a few more minutes, until Mark said, “Alright, dude, you win. Let’s go get a fucking drink.”
Frank hopped to his feet and reached down to give Mark a hand, thinking about what he’d said. It was true that Tony was more suited to this consigliere thing than he was, so why had Gerard chosen him? Frank couldn’t deny that he liked the feeling of being singled out by Gerard, because Gerard was like an amazing older brother and Frank looked up to him, but there was really no reason for Gerard to choose Frank over Tony.
Mark hit him on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. “You driving?”
Frank dug into his pocket for his keys. “Sure.”
***
At their usual club, they ran into Mikey and Tony. Mikey was at a table with another guy and three girls, none of which were Alicia. Frank rolled his eyes and headed for Tony’s booth near the back. He was sipping a Coke through a straw.
“Designated driver,” he said when Frank raised an eyebrow. Mark laughed and clapped his brother on the shoulder, then headed for the bar.
Frank followed a few seconds later, because he was sure that Mark wouldn’t get him a beer. By the time he got the bartender’s attention, Mark had already found a group of people he knew. Frank gave Tony an apologetic look and went over to them.
Brian Schechter and Gabe Saporta were the only ones Frank knew personally, but he recognized two of the other guys from hanging out with Mark in high school. Gabe kissed him sloppily on the cheek.
Brian glanced down at the beer in Frank’s hand. “How’d you get in here? You aren’t 21.”
“What, you never heard of a fake ID?” Gabe asked, grinning. He squeezed Frank’s shoulders once and then said, “I need to talk to Mikeyway, where is he?”
Frank pointed Gabe in the right direction, then turned to Brian. “I know the owner.” The owner was actually Gabe’s father, and Frank and the others had been coming in here since they were in their teens.
Brian shrugged and went back to whatever he’d been talking about before Frank arrived. Frank listened for a while, but he wasn’t really following any of the conversations around him. He tapped Mark on the shoulder.
“I’m gonna head home, catch a ride with Tony and Mikey, okay?”
He didn’t really feel like getting drunk tonight, and he was thinking about maybe asking Gerard… No, he couldn’t do that. Gerard must have his reasons. Frank told himself not to dwell on it.
***
Frank was half-asleep in the room he shared with Mikey when he felt something touch his arm. He flinched and jerked his arm away, sure that some creepy bug had been crawling on him, but it was only Gerard.
“Are you asleep?”
Obviously not anymore. Frank rolled his eyes and shook his head. Across the room, Mikey snored.
“C’mere,” Gerard whispered. He pulled on Frank’s hand, leading him out of the bedroom and across the hall to his own room. Frank glanced back at Mikey as they tiptoed out, hoping they weren’t being loud enough to wake him up. He was a notoriously light sleeper, except when he was drunk, but judging by the fact that he and his cousins had only come home an hour ago, Mikey was probably very drunk. Frank closed the door behind him and followed Gerard into the other room.
“Hey,” he said, tugging Frank towards the bed. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure, okay,” Frank whispered, crawling up on his knees. Gerard sat cross-legged with his back to the headboard. “What’s up?”
“You’ve never killed anyone before, have you?”
“No,” Frank replied, his brow creasing. “Not yet, anyway.”
“I want you to go out with Worm tomorrow,” Gerard said. “Are you ready for that?”
Frank nodded. He wasn’t actually sure if he was ready, and it was kind of a big deal, but if Gerard wanted him to kill someone, then he would fucking kill someone.
“Have you ever-”
“I’ve never had anyone killed before.”
“Does he deserve it?” Frank asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then I’ll do it.”
“Do you want to know why?”
Frank hesitated. He did want to know, but he didn’t want anything he learned to bite him in the ass and make him feel guilty later. Gerard waited patiently, his eyes wide and bright in the darkness. Finally, Frank shook his head.
“If I need to know anything, you’ll tell me, right?”
Gerard nodded. “If you need to know.”
Gerard rubbed his knuckles over the back of Frank’s hand. “I should let you go back to bed,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“It’s fine,” Frank said. “I wasn’t really asleep.” His fingers twitched beneath Gerard’s hand. He debated asking Gerard why he asked Frank to be his consigliere; the question was on the tip of his tongue, but then Gerard tapped his hand again and seemed to decide that their conversation was over.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
Frank slid off the bed and waved goodnight.
***
It wasn’t anything like Frank thought it would be, watching the life drain from someone’s eyes. He fought the urge to drop the gun-it was still smoking in his hand; he could still hear the shot ringing in his ears-and frantically wipe his hand clean on the thigh of his jeans.
Worm let the guy fall to the floor, a limp, lifeless body, and nodded approvingly at Frank.
Frank stared back. He hadn’t blinked since he pulled the trigger.
Worm came over to him and took the gun from his hand, flicked the safety back on and put it back in the shoulder holster Frank was wearing. He patted Frank on the back and said quietly, “You did good, kid.”
Frank nodded. Worm led him out of the dingy apartment, muttering something about sending someone back to take care of the body. Frank had killed someone. Gerard had told him to, so he’d done it.
Gerard had a reason. Frank didn’t know what it was, but it was compelling enough for Gerard to want this guy dead. Frank trusted Gerard’s opinion. Frank blinked and took a breath. He grinned at Worm. He’d just killed someone. Worm caught his expression and smiled back.
“Nice shot.”
“Thanks.”
***
Mark congratulated him heartily, smiling and teasing like normal, but Frank could see in Mark’s eyes that he didn’t want that for himself. Mark wasn’t ready for that. Frank felt a surge of pride; he’d stepped up, he’d been ready at Gerard’s request, and he would do it again.
Frank started going out with Worm and Chris more often. He killed three more people. It got easier every time.
***
Frank and Gerard were out on one of their usual coffee runs, Gerard ensconced in a booth in the corner while Frank waited at the counter for their order. Gerard had brought his sketchbook out, and Frank watched as he flipped through it, looking for a blank page. The barista handed him their two coffees and Frank carried them over to the low table with sugars and creams and napkins. He was in the middle of adding a second packet of sugar to his own cup when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Frank glanced at Gerard before answering.
“Frankie, where are you?” Tony asked. “Is Gerard there?”
“Yeah, we went out for coffee. What’s up?”
“Frankie,” Tony said, and it was weird because Tony rarely used the nickname and he’d just used it twice in a row. “Elena’s dead.”
Frank’s phone slipped out of his grasp, clattering down to the table, where it knocked against his cup and made it slosh over the side. Gerard raised his eyebrows but Frank ignored him. He picked up the phone again and said, in a very measured voice, “What happened?”
“Heart attack,” Tony explained. “We called an ambulance but it was too late. It was about half an hour ago. Will you tell him?”
“Where are you?” Frank asked. He wanted to take Gerard home, but not if it was going to be a circus.
“We’re at the hospital,” Tony replied. “Me and Vinnie, and Mikey’s on his way here with Mark. Johnny’s still at the house, with Joey and Pete, but that’s it.”
“I’m taking Gee home,” Frank decided. “I’ll tell him there.”
“I’ll call ahead and tell them not to get in your way.”
Frank flipped his cell closed and braced his arms on the table, allowing himself a moment for the information to sink in. Elena was dead, and he had to break it to Gerard. Frank took a deep breath to regain his composure.
He turned back to Gerard and held his hand out to help Gerard up. “We’re going home,” he said shortly. “C’mon.”
“What about the coffee?” Gerard asked, his brow wrinkling. “You wanted to get out for-”
“We have to leave, Gerard, just come with me and don’t argue.” Frank knew he sounded bitchy, and that Gerard wasn’t used to taking orders, but he couldn’t keep himself in check. He grabbed Gerard’s hand and pulled him to his feet, then put his other hand at Gerard’s waist to steady him. He didn’t let go of Gerard’s hand.
“Frank, what’s going on?” Gerard asked quietly. His hand tensed and Frank gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“I’ll tell you at home, okay?” Frank answered under his breath.
“Frank.”
“Just wait until we’re home, Gerard, please.”
They walked back to the car in silence and neither of them seemed to want to let go of the other’s hand. Frank’s behavior was probably only making Gerard more nervous, but Frank didn’t know how else to act. He continued the silence as he drove them home. He could feel the weight of Gerard’s heavy gaze on him.
As soon as they were inside the house, Gerard caught him by the shoulder and whispered his name in an urgent undertone. Frank couldn’t keep the information to himself any longer.
“Tony called me, Gerard. He’s at the hospital. Elena had… she had a heart attack-”
“Frankie, oh god-”
“She’s gone, Gerard.”
“Oh my god.” Frank could almost sense Gerard’s knees going weak and he pulled Gerard into a tight embrace. They fell to the floor anyway, tangled together. Gerard was completely silent. Frank felt him drawing in deep breaths.
“I need to-”
“They’re taking care of it.”
“I can’t-I don’t know-”
“It’s gonna be okay, Gee. C’mon, let’s get you out of the hall, okay? It’ll be alright.”
“No, it won’t,” Gerard moaned. “Oh god.”
“Gee, shh, Gerard, c’mon, Gerard, shhh,” Frank soothed gently. He rubbed both hands up and down Gerard’s back; he could feel Gerard shaking. “Let’s get out of the hall, Gee, c’mon.”
***
Gerard didn’t talk to anyone at the funeral, not even Frank or his cousins. Both he and Mikey were silent, standing side by side at the front of the group while Elena’s coffin was lowered into the ground. Frank watched them closely, ready to do anything they needed. He saw Mikey slip his hand into Gerard’s pocket and pull Gerard’s hand out. Mikey squeezed once, tightly, and held on. Neither of them moved until long after the others had gone.
Frank sat down in the grass near another gravestone and watched as Gerard knelt by the fresh grave. Mikey stroked his hand through Gerard’s hair and rested it on his shoulder, a silent comfort. Frank wasn’t close enough to hear what they were saying-he wasn’t sure they were saying anything at all.
***
When they got back to the house, Gerard started towards the stairs immediately. Frank touched his arm and whispered, “Gee, you need to-”
“Take care of it,” Gerard replied shortly. “I can’t.”
“Gerard,” Frank said seriously, “people are waiting for you to-”
“Take care of it, Frankie,” Gerard hissed.
Frank didn’t want to force him, so he let Gerard go. There were men and women in the lounge waiting to express their condolences, offer Gerard their apologies and guidance, and someone needed to deal with them. Frank straightened his shoulders and breathed deeply. Apparently that someone was him.
***
Gerard didn’t come out of his room for three days. He didn’t let Frank in, and he only spoke to Mikey through the door. Frank was running himself thin trying to fulfill Gerard’s duty to the Family, a job he didn’t even know how to do, and Gerard wouldn’t even see him.
Frank thought it was selfish of him-they’d all experienced loss, they all needed time to grieve, but Gerard was taking his self-imposed isolation to entirely new levels. Frank hadn’t even had a spare moment to himself. No time at all to cry for Elena.
Which is why he had a minor meltdown at the breakfast table with Tony and Mikey sitting on either side of him.
“It’s not fair,” he cried. “I can’t do this by myself. I’m not supposed to do this. I can’t.”
“Frankie,” Mikey said tiredly.
“Your brother is being a fucking asshole,” Frank shot back, turning to him and glaring. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry, I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” Tony broke in quietly. “We’re all dealing with-”
“No, you’re not,” Frank said shortly. “I’m dealing with it. I’m dealing with everything. Because Gerard won’t.”
“Gerard can’t,” Mikey hissed.
“Then why does he think I can?” Frank shouted. He felt tears sliding down his cheeks but he ignored them. Wiping his eyes would be like admitting he was crying. Crying in front of Mikey and Tony, crying like a fucking baby, and it was Gerard’s fucking fault.
“I’m not as good as him,” Frank continued tearfully. “I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“Frankie,” Tony said, and put his arm around Frank’s shoulders. “It’s okay, we’re gonna help you, all of us. You don’t have to do everything.”
Frank bit back the instinctive response: I need to. Gerard had told him to take care of everything, and that’s what he was trying-and failing-to do. The knowledge that he couldn’t do it, that he couldn’t make things better, was almost a harder blow than Elena’s death.
“I’ll talk to Gee,” Mikey murmured.
“Yeah,” Tony replied stiffly. “You need to.”
Frank let Tony pull him into a hug and once Mikey was gone, he turned his head, pressed his nose into the rumpled collar of Tony’s shirt, and cried.
***
“Gerard?” Frank asked quietly. He sat down with his back against Gerard’s door. He’d fall if Gerard opened it, but Frank doubted Gerard would just open the door after three days. “Gee, are you there?”
“I’m sorry, Frank,” came the muffled reply. “Mikey-”
“I can’t do this without you,” Frank said, cutting him off. He didn’t want to hear about Mikey telling Gerard that Frank burst out crying in the kitchen for no apparent reason.
“Frankie, I’m sorry, Frank,” Gerard said, and he was closer to the door now, his voice was louder. He was slurring. Frank realized with sudden clarity that Gerard was drunk.
He tried the doorknob, but as expected, it was locked. “Gee, open the door,” he said.
“No, I can’t…”
“Gerard-”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gerard admitted slowly. Frank heard a thump and the door shook for a moment; he assumed Gerard had just sat down against it on the other side.
“Gerard,” Frank said, pressing his hand to the smooth wood. “Gerard, please, let me in.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Gerard continued as if he hadn’t heard Frank. Maybe he hadn’t. “I never learned… what to do, Frankie. I just can’t. Not like this. I’m… I don’t know how.”
“This is hard for all of us, Gee,” Frank murmured. “Please come out, I’ll help you. Me and Tony and Mikey, and all the other guys, we’ll help. Please, Gerard.”
“No.” There was a scratching noise and then retreating footsteps. “I can’t do it.”
“Gerard. Gerard! Gee, please!” Frank cried, but Gerard was gone.
***
“We need to do something,” Tony said quietly.
“He won’t talk to me. He’s on some fucking epic bender or something, I don’t even know-”
“Has he even eaten anything in the past week?”
“Mikey’s giving him food, I think,” Frank sighed. He put his head down on the table. “And alcohol, I’m guessing.”
“Yeah, like he needs more of that. Shit, Frank, this is-”
“It’s bad, yeah, I realize that, Tony,” Frank snapped. Tony glared at him. “Sorry.”
“Everyone’s looking for some kind of leadership-”
“And Gerard’s not giving it,” Frank finished. “There’s not much we can do about it at the moment, if he won’t even see us. Shit.”
“I think we should just take over for a little while,” Tony whispered.
“What?” Frank asked. He raised his head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the consigliere, Frank.”
“I’m not-”
“Yeah, sure, Vinnie’s the guy, but Frank, you’re the one who knows what’s going on.”
“Tony, I can’t do-”
“No, I know,” Tony said quickly. He put his hand on Frank’s arm. “Frank, listen. Gerard hasn’t done anything to the system, yet. Why don’t we just… take care of things ourselves?”
“Because we have no idea what we’re doing?” Frank asked skeptically.
“Neither does Gerard,” Tony replied pointedly. “We should talk to the main guys, the caporegimi. They’ll know how to handle things until Gerard can deal with… life again.”
Frank hesitated. It seemed too much like pulling the rug out from under Gerard’s feet, taking over without his blessing. “We should talk to him…” he hedged.
“He won’t listen, Frank,” Tony said sharply. “Something needs to be done, and we’re the only ones who can.”
Frank stared down at his hands for a long few minutes, thinking hard about what his decision would mean. Gerard might resent him for it. It was a betrayal, of sorts, even if they were only working in the Family’s best interests. On the other hand, Gerard might be grateful. He obviously wasn’t prepared to take over completely, he’d said as much to Frank’s face, and his recent behavior confirmed everything Gerard hadn’t said. He wasn’t ready. It was up to Frank.
He nodded.
***
The first meeting Johnny DeLuca controlled was awkward in all the wrong ways. Johnny wasn’t bad, was the problem. Frank shifted in his seat nervously; Johnny knew how to sweet-talk people, how to put on a show of politeness and caring even though Frank knew he didn’t, really. Johnny was good at pretending. Where Gerard was genuine, Johnny could fake it.
It made Frank uncomfortable, seeing the man run the Family like a pro. It was as if Johnny had been trained to take over, and in a way, he kind of had. Johnny DeLuca had been Papa Rush’s underboss; he’d managed whatever Papa hadn’t had time to deal with.
It was disconcerting how easily Johnny slipped into the commanding role, and Frank didn’t like to watch him in Gerard’s position. The office was locked, so Johnny conducted meetings from the study near the back of the house, but it still set Frank on edge.
He stopped going to the meetings.
Instead, Frank sat outside Gerard’s door, or paced the hallway, or shared miserable looks with Tony in the kitchen. Tony seemed to feel the same way about Johnny that Frank did, and they often just shrugged at each other in mutual uncertainty. They’d done what they’d had to do.
***
The day Gerard finally opened his door to Frank, it was raining and miserable outside and the house was quiet, everyone too sapped by the weather to speak loudly or even move around much at all. Frank sat with his back against Gerard’s door, a comic book propped on his knees, but he wasn’t reading. He was listening to the soft patter of rain on the windows, and waiting-hoping-for some sign of life from Gerard.
The door opening nearly gave Frank a heart attack. He jerked upright and whipped around. Gerard was on his knees, eye-level with Frank, and peering out at him through the small crack. The room behind him was dark, the curtains over the windows drawn.
“You’re here,” Gerard whispered, and Frank detected a note of surprise.
“Of course I am,” he replied, his voice equally quiet. “Are you okay?”
Gerard looked horrible. His eyes were red, but not like he’d been crying. Frank was sure he had been crying, but apparently not recently. He looked hungover, miserable, glassy-eyed exhausted. His hair was greasy and stringy and sticking up at odd angles over Gerard’s ears.
He shook his head. Frank nudged the door open a bit more and saw that Gerard was wearing the black button-down shirt he’d worn to the funeral and a pair of stained sweatpants.
“Can I come in?” Frank asked hesitantly.
“Okay,” Gerard said. He backed away from the door and Frank went in on his hands and knees. Gerard closed the door behind them and they both sat in front of it. “I’m glad you’re here,” Gerard said.
“Gee,” Frank began. The room was stuffy and desperately needed to be aired out. The mattress was bare, all the sheets and blankets lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Frank wasn’t sure if Gerard had been sleeping on the mattress or the pile of bedclothes. Either way, it surely wasn’t comfortable. “Gerard,” Frank tried again. His throat felt clogged and he could sense that his voice was going to break when he next spoke, so he stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Gerard said. He looked heartbroken, apologetic and earnest in a way that only Gerard could manage.
Frank leaned forward and wrapped both arms tightly around Gerard’s neck. “You asshole,” he whispered. He broke down into tears, then, and cried into Gerard’s shoulder for a few minutes. Partly out of grief, but partly out of relief at Gerard finally, finally welcoming him back in.
“I can’t do it, Frank,” Gerard continued. “I can’t do what they did.”
“Yes, you can, Gee,” Frank replied instantly. He wiped his eyes quickly and leaned back. “We need you to. I know you can.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gerard protested. “I can’t just wing it.”
“Gerard. Gerard. I need you, okay, I need to you to do this. I know you can. You can do fucking anything, Gee, come on. Just-just-Gerard, just try, please, I need you to try, at least,” Frank said desperately.
“I want to,” Gerard said. “But it’s not enough.”
“It is,” Frank insisted.
“I’ll do it wrong.”
“Your Family’s counting on you, Gee,” Frank said. “I’m counting on you. Please try, Gerard. Please. I’ll help you, you won’t be alone. Gerard. I need you out there.”
“You don’t need me-”
“I do, Gee,” Frank said pleadingly. “Johnny’s trying to do your job, and it’s just not right, Gee, please, come out and do what you were fucking born to do.”
“I wasn’t-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Frank snapped. “I can’t deal with this bullshit right now. Gerard, listen to me. I need you to eat. I need you to take a motherfucking shower. And I need you to get out of this room and do your fucking job, Gerard.”
Gerard didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. Frank stared back, holding his breath, wondering if he’d pushed too far. He wanted to just give Gerard a hug-he looked like he needed one-but Frank suspected that wasn’t what would get Gerard out of his bedroom.
His instincts paid off. Gerard looked down at his hands and nodded mutely, the very picture of contrition. Frank grabbed Gerard into a hug.
“The world didn’t end, Gee,” he whispered into Gerard’s ear, “but it might, without you.”
“Idiot,” Gerard said fondly.
“I need you, Gee.”
Gerard sniffed and rubbed his nose on Frank’s shoulder. “Okay.”
***
[ part 2]